Page 31 of A Game of Deception
For one terrifying second, she didn’t move. Then, with a noise that sounded like victory and defeat combined, she kissed me back. Her mouth opened against mine, her fists grabbing my shirt, yanking me closer. The kiss burned hot and hungry, bottled words and denied wants compressed into one fucking reckless moment.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t gentle. It was a middle finger to the past, to her father, to all the secrets keeping us apart. We were mutually assured destruction, fire meeting gasoline, and God help anyone caught in the blast radius.
Somewhere beyond us, Diego sucked in a breath, the crowd buzzed with shock. But who cared? Nothing existed except Tara in my arms, her taste, my heart hammering like it might crack my ribs.
In this stolen moment, we were just Xander and Tara. Not doctor and patient. Not the owner’s daughter and a fallen star. Just two people broken by the same shit, finally connecting in the middle of chaos.
And if Hank Swanson wanted to can me for it, let him. Some things were worth burning for.
8
TARA
His lips were stillon mine. My hands still clutched his shirt. The world had narrowed to this; his taste, his scent, the slight stubble against my skin, the heat of his body against mine. The bass vibrated loudly through the club, but all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears and the soft sound he made when I parted my lips against his.
Twelve years of waiting.
Twelve years of planning.
Twelve years of obsession.
And in one reckless moment, Xander had just taken all the power I’d so carefully cultivated and thrown it right out the window.
Reality crashed back in. I realized every eye was on us—the shocked faces of my medical staff, the slack-jawed expressions of the players, the gleeful looks of those already pulling out phones to document the moment.
And there was Diego on the sideline, his face twisted into an ugly smirk.
My survival instinct kicked in with brutal clarity. This wasn’t just about regaining control of our twisted game. This was about my career. My life.
I shoved Xander back hard enough that he stumbled. Oxygen rushed back into my lungs.
And then, without thinking, I raised my hand and let it fly—flat-palmed, sharp, catching him square across that perfectly chiseled jaw.
The sound cracked through the club’s momentary lull in music. My hand burned from the impact. His head snapped to the side, a red mark already blooming on his cheek.
“Who do you think you are?” I snarled, my voice dripping with ice. “You are a player. I am your doctor. Don’t youeverforget that again.”
The shock on his face was so raw, so genuine, that for a heartbeat I almost broke character. Almost reached for him. Almost told him I was sorry, that I didn’t mean it, that the kiss had been everything I’d dreamed of.
But Diego’s satisfied laugh cut through the tension, and Xander’s expression hardened into something cold. Without a word, he turned away and walked out of the club.
I’d won. So why did victory taste like ash in my mouth?
“Guess he can’t handle rejection,” Diego said, sidling up beside me, voice thick with false sympathy. “Some guys just don’t know how to take no for an answer.”
I rounded on him, channeling all my conflicted emotions into a glare so cold it made him take a step back.
“I handled it, Diego. Stay out of it.”
“I was just?—”
“I don’t need your protection. I don’t need anyone’s protection.” I smoothed down my dress, hyper-aware of every eye still on me. “What I need is for everyone to remember that I am a medical professional, and this kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”
I could feel the narrative solidifying around me. Poor Dr. Swanson, accosted by the team’s newest troublemaker. The talented but unstable Xander McCrae, living up to his party-boy reputation. Just another incident in a long history of bad behavior.
I spotted Coach Wilkes across the room, his expression grim. Time for damage control.
I made my way over to him, my chin held high. The crowd parted before me, whispers following in my wake. This was a performance, and I needed to nail every beat.
