Page 47 of Fake Out Hearts

My breath catches. “W-what?”

“Take. It. Off.”

I freeze for a heartbeat, my gaze locked with his. I feel like I’m drowning in the depths of his dark green eyes, like the world is tilting wildly beneath us. The command in his voice isundeniable, and I move on instinct, gripping the bottom of the shirt and pulling it up over my head, right here in the kitchen. As soon as it’s off, he snatches it out of my hands—and in one powerful movement, he tears it at the side seam, ripping it nearly in two.

Holy shit.

My jaw drops open, an unaccountable rush of heat flooding my veins. Why did that turn me on so much?

We stand in loaded silence, staring at each other from mere inches apart, our breaths mingling between us. Theo’s gaze drops from my face, trailing downward for a brief moment, and I can feel his focus like a physical touch. My stomach is a molten pool as my skin prickles with awareness, and I drag in a shallow breath.

One of us needs to break this tension before something happens that we can’t take back. Before we cross a line we’ve already agreed we can’t afford to cross ever again.

But I can’t move.

I lick my lips, and Theo’s gaze darts back up as if drawn by the movement. His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening… and then he takes a slow step backward, holding out the torn shirt to me.

“You’d better go back to your room, princess,” he says in a low voice.

“Why?” I whisper.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Like I told you before, I’m not always a gentleman. And right now, I’m not feeling very gentlemanly at all.”

My heart feels like it stops as his words wash over me. It takes everything I have not to give in to the maddening desire to pull him toward me, to say to hell with all the rules and crush my lips against his for real this time. But the voice in the back of my head grows steadily louder as reason takes over.

Forcing my reluctant body into motion, I take the shirt from his outstretched hand and slip down the hall back to my room. I drop the tattered fabric on the bed and step into the bathroom, turning the faucet to the coldest temperature possible and holding my hands under the flow of water. I splash it on my face, gasping slightly at the chill, but it’s still not enough to put out the fire burning through my veins.

I’m going to need a shower—a freezing one—before bed. Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep like this.

I never thought being fake married would be this difficult,I think as I stare at my flushed face in the mirror.

And if tonight is any indication, I don’t have a clue how I’m going to make it through two years of this without exploding.

Chapter 15

Theo

I’m staring at Noah through his face shield while we’re crouched, our sticks clutched tight, and the fierce look he’s giving me in these five-on-five drills would normally get my blood racing, but practice is the furthest thing from my mind right now.

When Coach Dunaway blows his whistle, I’m so distracted that I don’t even register the drill has started for a few seconds. Dunaway blows the whistle again to get my attention.

“What the hell are you doing, Camden? Wake up!” he bellows, and although I skate after Noah and the others, my heart isn’t in it.

Everywhere I look, the only thing I can see is Becca.

Her cheering me on in the rinkside seats. Her hand on my leg while she talked sense into me. The look of confusion and raw desire she gave me when she tore off her shirt, just like I ordered her to. She didn’t even hesitate.

I’m halfway down the ice when I realize that I’m losing focus again, all my blood rushing south at the memory of how she looked in that moment.

“What fucking planet are you on right now, bro?” Noah asks a few moments later when he comes to a hard stop in front of me, sending shaved ice showering into the air. He waves a hand infront of my face like I’ve gone blind or something. “It’s like you aren’t even here.”

“Not gonna lie, I kind of wish I wasn’t.”

Noah’s eyes narrow at me, and he scoffs. “No one’s forcing you. At this point, practice might go a little smoother if you weren’t. So make up your mind. Are you in or out?”

He always knows exactly what to say to motivate me, and this isn’t any different. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it together, Dad.”

“Atta boy.” Noah snorts, then glides back to center ice for a repeat of the drill.

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