Page 49 of Fake Shot

“I’m not running. I just ... have to pee.”

“No, Jules. You’re running. I stole glances at you that whole drive home, and you were so lost in thought, it was like you were in another world. Where’d you go back there?”

Squeezing my eyes closed tightly, I try not to feel or remember anything. I just want to go to my room, curl up in a ball, and forget that Vegas ever happened.

“I was just watching the sky, lost in the music, Colt. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”

“We were listening to Britney Spears circa 2000. If you were lost inthatmusic,” he says, knowing that I despise pop, “you must be more drunk than I thought.”

“I don’t get drunk.” I spit the words out. My father’s an alcoholic and it only took being drunk once to know how easily I could fall down that rabbit hole of terrible decisions when alcohol is involved. I didn’t drink for years after Vegas, and even now, Ineverhave more than two drinks in one night.

“So are you saying that back at the bar, you weren’t grinding yourself against my cock because you were drunk?”

The whoosh of air that leaves my lungs is an audible sigh. I’d love to use alcohol as an excuse, but now I can’t.

“I’m saying that alcohol impaired my judgment, just like I’m sure it impaired yours.” Being around him is what impaired my judgment, like it always does. But I can’t tell him that, so I’ll blame it on the margaritas.

“Jules, I outweigh you by a hundred pounds. Those two beers didn’t even give me a buzz. Do you think I’d have driven you home if I was under the influence?”

“I guess not.”

“Youguessnot? Seriously?” He must twist the fabric of thejersey in his fist, because it tightens around me even more as he pulls me closer to him. “I’d never put you, or anyone, in danger like that.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you would. I was just thinking ... I don’t know ... that the beer made you ...”Horny?Well, I sure as hell can’t say that. So how do I explain what happened between us in the bar?

“Want you?” he suggests when I don’t finish my sentence.

“Colt, I know this is all fake. Tonight was just one big show—for the fans and for your teammates—so they’d believe it’s real. You don’t have to worry about me getting confused and thinking that youactuallywant me.”

He lets go of the back of the jersey and wraps that hand around my abdomen instead, pulling me against him so there’s nothing, not even air, between us. His body is hard ripples of muscle pressed against me, but what catches me most off guard is the way the steel pipe he’s packing in his pants presses between my ass cheeks.

His voice is almost deadly when he says, “Listen to me carefully, Tink. There’s nothing fake about the way I want you. But I promised your brother I wouldn’t touch you, and I don’t go back on promises. Jameson’s been like a brother to me for almost half my life, and I can’t do that to him.” He pauses for the briefest second before dropping his voice even lower. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

My breath hitches, a sharp intake that’s overly loud in the quiet outdoor space.

Then he says, “Now go inside, disappear up to your room, and give me a minute to compose myself. Then, we’re going to pretend like this didn’t happen.”

I don’t know which hurts more: that he values hisrelationship with my brother more than what we could have together, or that he’s so ashamed of wanting me that he never wants to bring it up again.

It doesn’t matter,I tell myself as I reach for the back door.You were holding him at a distance for exactly this reason. He’s never wanted a relationship with you, and he never will.

Chapter Nineteen

COLT

When we walk into the ballroom where the children’s hospital is holding their charity gala, all eyes are on us. Even though I warned her what to expect, Jules still stiffens, drawing her shoulders back and holding her chin high—something I’ve noticed she does when she’s uncomfortable. I squeeze her hand, then lean toward her, running my lips along her hair and whispering, “Relax.”

“Everyone is staring at me,” she says, turning her head and tucking her chin toward her shoulder to speak directly in my ear. “It’s like they all know this is fake and I don’t belong here.”

I’m a bit afraid she’s going to turn around and bolt, because that seems to be her default defense mechanism when she’s scared.

“Jules,” I say, dropping her hand and bringing mine to rest on her lower back while I guide her deeper into the room. My palm and thumb rest on the bare skin of her back, whilemy fingers splay across the gold fabric of this sexy-as-hell dress where it clings right above the curve of her ass. When she came downstairs in this dress tonight, I almost forgot all about what I told her last night—that nothing can happen between us. I don’t want that to be our reality, but the truth is that I can’t be what she’s looking for, so I don’t want to ruin the tenuous friendship we’re building. “They’re not staring because they think this is fake. They’re staring because when you walk into a room, no one else is even worth looking at.”

She raises her head to meet my eyes, and the look she gives me is nothing but a riot of confusion—like she can’t trust my words and so she’s searching my face to figure out my meaning.

“You seem to have lost the ability to speak,” I tease as I brush my lips across the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Why would you say that when no one else is even around to hear? You don’t have to sell this whole relationship when it’s just you and me, you know?”

---