Page 29 of False Start, Real Passion

“Tori.” His voice is low, urgent. “Are you okay?”

I keep my back to him, my knuckles white on the railing. “I’m fine. You played your part perfectly in there. The sponsors will be thrilled.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then, “Is that what you think that was? Me playing a part?”

I turn to face him, my heart in my throat. “Wasn’t it?”

He steps closer, his blue eyes burning into mine. “No. It wasn’t.”

His hands cup my face, his lips crashing into mine. The kiss is searing, desperate, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this one moment.

My mind short-circuits. This can’t be happening. But my body betrays me, melting into him, my fingers fisting in his tux jacket.

A camera flash makes us jump apart. I whirl around to see a photographer grinning at us from the doorway. “Thanks for the money shot, lovebirds!” he calls before disappearing back inside.

I stumble back from Jaxon, my hand pressed to my tingling lips. “I... I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I want to leave. Now.”

And then I’m running, pushing past him, ignoring his calls for me to wait. I have to get out of here, away from the cameras, away from him.

***

The ride home is excruciating. Jaxon sits beside me, his knee pressing against mine in the confines of the backseat. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything left unsaid.

I stare out the window, watching the city lights blur past, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding, the way I can still taste him on my lips.

“Tori,” he says finally, his voice low and rough. “That wasn’t just for the cameras.”

I close my eyes, my fingers trembling in my lap. “Don’t, Jaxon. Please.”

“Why not? Why can’t we just be honest about this?”

I turn to face him, my eyes flashing. “Because it’s a terrible idea! You’re my client. I’m supposed to be fixing your image, not...” I trail off, gesturing helplessly.

“Not what? Not falling for me?” He leans closer, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “Not fucking me at the retreat?”

My breath catches. I’m saved from answering by the limo rolling to a stop outside my building. I scramble for the door handle, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze.

“Goodnight, Jaxon,” I manage, my voice unsteady.

I don’t look back as I hurry into my building, my heels clicking too loudly in the quiet lobby. The elevator ride to my floor seems to take an eternity, my heart racing the whole way.

Finally, I’m inside my apartment, the door shutting behind me with a decisive click. I lean back against it, my chest heaving, my eyes squeezing shut.

I stand there for a full minute, reliving that kiss, the way his hands felt on me, the heat in his eyes when he looked at me.

I can’t want this. I can’t want him. It goes against every professional instinct I have.

But as I stand there in the dark, my lips still tingling from his touch, I’m terrified to realize that I do want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.

And I have no idea what I’m going to do about it.

Chapter eight

Lines Crossed

Todayispracticedayfor Jaxon and it’s going to be the day that I’m setting boundaries.

The practice field is already humming with activity when I arrive. I march onto the field like I’m being forced to visit my nemesis in the hospital. There’s resignation and a little bit of terror, both pushing me past clashing helmets and a shouting coach. I see Jaxon right away. How can I not? He’s like a giant, shirtless neon sign. Our eyes meet, and his face splits into a smile that screams trouble. I veer left like an Olympic sprinter trying to dodge a bus.

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