Chapter 1 #2
Walls were their thing. Their first real kiss had been against a wall in a random hallway at Roland-Garros, their second pressed against the wall of their hotel in Paris, and now that they were back in North Carolina, they’d found any excuse to push each other against a wall and kiss until they were gasping for air and their bodies begged for relief.
Now Jack’s lips trailed from her temple, using the wall behind her as an anchor before bending his head to hers.
Pushing up onto her toes, Indy met him halfway.
She’d never been so grateful for every millimeter of her five feet ten inches as she was when she was kissing Jack. She fit perfectly against him.
She pulled away to draw a breath. “My favorite part of the day,” she murmured, and he answered with a soft chuckle.
“Mine too.” His hands slid through her hair, twisting it around his fingers, then he cradled the back of her head, drew her mouth firmly against his.
Indy brought her hands to his torso, gripping his T-shirt, letting her palms press against the cut of muscle that disappeared into his cargo shorts.
His mouth fell open just enough to allow her tongue to slide in, deepening the kiss, before letting her teeth nip at his bottom lip.
A groan rumbled in his throat as he pressed even closer, his body full length against hers.
He wrenched his lips from hers, trailing his mouth over the line of her jaw to the spot just behind her ear. “You feel incredible,” he said, his voice husky, before diving in for more.
It was her turn to gasp, and her head fell back, scraping against the rough wall, as she arched into him.
No one had ever kissed her there before.
Jack smiled against her skin as her fingertips dug into his sides, and she let a moan slip free as he focused his attention on that spot, his teeth sharp against it, then soothing that small pain with a flick of his tongue.
Her hands scrambled to get purchase against his shoulders, desperate for some leverage, anything to help her press her body against his.
Then he was gone, his hand out of her hair, his mouth away from her neck and his body inches, then feet, from hers.
Indy blinked at him, trying to figure out what had happened, when the voices echoing down the pathway toward them finally reached her ears.
He was already lifting her bag from where it had fallen on the ground, and she desperately ran her fingers through her hair, knowing he’d made an unholy mess of it.
“You’re fine,” he muttered, handing her the bag, keeping the distance between them as a group of junior boys stomped past, none giving them a second glance.
“You have good ears,” Indy said finally, biting her lip at the close call.
If those boys had seen them, the news would have spread like wildfire through the OBX campus and everyone would have known by the end of the day.
And they couldn’t have that. She was a young tennis pro on the verge of breaking out; he was an up-and-coming agent.
The last thing either of their careers needed was the heightened publicity of a controversial relationship, even if Jack Harrison was far more of a gentleman than any guy she’d ever met.
Sometimes, a little too much of a gentleman, truth be told.
Jack shrugged, and he glanced back over his shoulder again before facing her fully. “I’m sorry about this.”
She reached out and took his hand. “We agreed,” she said, entwining their fingers, “it’s just between us for now.
It makes sense for both of us.” Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he nodded, but she knew he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Hell, she wasn’t entirely convinced. “You said you were okay with it.”
“I just wish it were different,” he said, tugging her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. He released her hands and dropped his to her hips, the edges of his thumbs brushing against her hip bones in slow circles, sending shivers over her skin.
“Me too.” She wanted to scream it from the rooftops that this amazing guy was hers.
That he had deep green eyes that lit up at her touch and a smile that brightened whenever he looked at her.
That he was brilliant in ways she couldn’t even fathom, with a degree from Harvard to prove it.
That he’d fought their attraction for so long because of an ingrained sense of honor, like one of those heroes in a fairy tale, except Jack was real, flesh and blood.
“Have you thought at least… maybe we should tell Penny?” Indy asked, her guilt from earlier creeping back in even as her fingertips landed on his forearms, gently stroking up to his elbows and back down to his wrists. Maybe Jack would have some answers there.
Jack let out a heavy breath. “Penny has a lot on her plate right now.”
“I know. I just feel funny keeping it from her. And Jasmine knows. I would feel bad if Penny found out from someone who wasn’t us.”
“You think she’d tell her?”
Indy considered for a moment and shook her head. “I don’t think so, not on purpose anyway, but secrets have a way of getting out, one way or another.”
“If you’re uncomfortable, Indiana, then the rest of it doesn’t matter. If you want to tell Penny or tell everyone, that’s what we’ll do.”
“No, I… that’s not what I mean. I don’t need a supportive…” She hesitated, almost using the word boyfriend, but that didn’t really fit, did it? Not if they were keeping it a secret. “I need your honest opinion.”
He leaned back, looking her in the eye. “Honest? Honestly, my sister doesn’t do well with change. It freaks her out, and right now, I’m not sure that the idea of you and me will go over that well. On the other hand, if we don’t tell her and she finds out?”
“She’ll be pissed.”
“Yep.”
“We could tell her in London.”
Jack considered for a moment and then nodded. “Face-to-face instead of over the phone.”
“There’s always FaceTime,” she said, though her stomach twisted at the thought of telling her at all.
She wasn’t really sure if she wanted to know what Penny, the only girl who’d made an effort to befriend her when she first arrived at OBX, would think if she found out she and Jack were together and they’d both lied about it.
“There’s that,” he said, sounding just as hesitant as she was.
Indy shook her head. They should do it in person.
They should have done it before they left Paris, but Penny had been so devastated after she had to withdraw from the tournament that it hadn’t felt like the right time then either.
“In London. We’ll be there in less than a week. We’ll tell her then.”
“Okay, in London,” he agreed.
They stood together for a moment, just breathing each other in, until Jack leaned away, checking his phone. “I should go. I have a meeting with a potential new client this afternoon and I’ve got to prep.”
Indy snorted a laugh. “Right, like you don’t already have a complete profile worked up, along with potential sponsors to contact if they sign.”
“You know me so well,” he said with a smile, peering around the building and checking the pathway for any more unwanted spectators. “I’ll go this way.”
Indy nodded back in the opposite direction. “And I’ll go that way.”
He hesitated for a second and then leaned in for one more kiss, quick and fierce, that sent a current of white-hot electricity through her. Then he was gone.
She adjusted her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the video room.
She’d only have about half the time for vid analysis that she originally planned for.
But as she pressed her fingertips against that spot on her neck lightly, recalling the feel of his mouth and the way her entire body was lit on fire by his touch, it was totally worth it.
“Are you sure that is a good idea?” rang a voice from just a few steps behind her, the French accent giving its owner away, if the superiority and condescension weren’t enough of a clue.
Indy spun around and came face-to-face with Caroline Morneau, her agent.
Tall, blond, perfectly put together in a silk blouse and linen skirt, she somehow looked completely cool and calm despite the blazing sun.
She was in town before they all left for England, mostly to go over her plans for Indy’s future off the court.
Words of denial formed on Indy’s tongue, but she knew it was useless. Caroline had clearly seen them. Shit.
“Good idea or not, it’s none of your business.”
Raising her eyes to the sky and shaking her head, Caroline said, “You are my business, Indiana.”
“How many times do I have to say it? Don’t call me that, and my tennis is your business,” Indy corrected. “Keep your nose out of everything else.”
“It is not that simple,” Caroline insisted, her voice inching up in pitch.
“It really is.” She turned and walked away, wanting to look back, hoping that Caroline’s brow was furrowed and her hands were on her hips, mouth twisted in aggravation.
But looking back would ruin the moment. Even though Indy had gotten the last word, Caroline now had the upper hand, and it was only a matter of time before she pressed her advantage.