Page 65 of Enemies Off Camera
My role.
The—
His lips crash into mine, silencing every thought. His mouth is urgent, his tongue swirling around mine—tasting me, claiming me. He’s needy, but I match it with equal hunger. The world around us fades to a blur.
Even when he pulls back, lips breathless, my body is still humming, alive with electricity.
Warm breath brushes my ear as he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”
FORTY-SIX
“No way you’re leaving,” one of Jaxon’s teammates says, hooking an arm around his neck and dragging him away from me.
I don’t know the guy’s name, but his eyes are already glossy—the first signs of being three sheets to the wind.
Jaxon and I hold each other’s gaze, full of longing. My body’s still cooling off from our make-out session.
I’ll be back, he mouths.
But I doubt it. He disappears with his teammate into the crowd and doesn’t look back.
I feel stripped bare, my want for Jaxon slathered all over me. Everyone can see it, and what makes me feel so exposed is that I’ve lost the upper hand. What we just did wasn’t fake. Not even a little. My heart might actually be on the line now.
Slowly, I turn my attention to the room. Nearly everyone’s watching me. Some are smiling—happy, it seems, to see the “TV couple” looking legit. Others look surprised, maybe even skeptical, their expressions sharp with gossip.
I am an actress. I like attention.
But not all attention is wanted.
Seeking refuge from the curious, whispering onlookers, I lower my head and make my way to the food table. At the very least, I can get another lobster dog—the most addictive thing I’ve ever eaten.
As I take a few blissful bites in peace, planning to work the room again and get to know more of the ladies, a woman I haven’t seen before steps up beside me—way too close. She stares at the spread like she’s on a mission to find something specific.
“I suggest one of these,” I offer, holding up my lobster dog.
“Oh no,” she says, smiling. “Those’ll have you up in the middle of the nightfiending.”
We both laugh.
“By the way, I’m Lindsay. Everybody calls me Linds. Jake Ruff’s wife. He’s a linebacker.”
I extend a hand. “Zara Morgan.”
“I know who you are,” she says, shaking my hand. “And congrats on taming the dog.”
Mid-bite, I freeze. “Huh?”
“Jaxon’s been…the ladies’ man.” She says it in a faux-announcer voice, clearly for effect.
My eyes narrow slightly. I think she’s trying to rattle me.
“Haven’t they all?” I reply coolly.
She doesn’t like that. Her tiny face scrunches into a sour expression.
“Notmyhusband,” she says, patting her chest, clearly offended.
Okay. So she’s one of those.
