Chapter 18 Tish
TISH
Jake’s lips melt against mine, and the world tilts.
For a heartbeat I freeze, stunned by the sudden heat of him pressed so close.
Then the shock burns into something hotter, something reckless that coils low in my belly. His mouth is firm, sure of himself and his abilities.
My back pushes into the door under his force, and I grip the handle to steady myself.
The scent of him fills the space between us.
His lips move against mine with practiced ease, and even though I know this is a performance, my pulse doesn’t seem to care. It pounds in my ears, drowning out reason.
I should shove him away. I should remind him this is pretend, for show, not something he gets to enjoy.
But his mouth slants against mine and a soft sound slips from my throat before I can stop it.
His hand brushes against my hip, not quite touching, but close enough that the heat of it sparks over my skin.
The kiss deepens. His tongue teases at my lips, insistent, and when I part them, he takes full advantage.
The taste of him floods me.
Warm, intoxicating, wrong in every way, yet I don’t turn away.
Instead, I lean into him, my fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only anchor in this rush of sensation.
When he finally pulls back, it’s slow, deliberate, like he wants me to know he’s the one ending it.
His lips linger a second longer than they should, and when he breaks away, I’m left breathless, my heart racing.
Jake’s eyes glitter with heat, with something unreadable that makes my knees weak.
His voice drops low, a whisper that curls against my ear.
“That,” he murmurs, “is how we make it real.”
My back stays against the hotel door long after Jake walks away.
The wood is cool through my shoulder blades, and the quiet around me unreal considering the riot in my chest.
Heat still sits on my lips, a ghost of pressure that keeps replaying in flashes—the push of his mouth, the steady hand braced by my head, the controlled way he angled in like he’d rehearsed it.
No cameras. No audience. Just the two of us and that reckless sentence in my ear about making it look real.
Anger should be the loudest thing in my mind, but it jostles for space with something far less convenient: the low, insistent hum of want. That part makes me furious at myself.
I’m the one who puts out fires for this team.
With a deep, shaky breath, I turn and fumble with my key card before finally getting it to work, and rush inside my room.
The mirror over the dresser shows me just how flustered Jake got me. My cheeks are flushed a hot pink, and my lips are swollen.
Oh god, pretending to be Jake’s girlfriend is going to be hell.
My fingers lift to my lips and hover there like I’m checking to see if the heat is real.
It is.
The memory of Jake’s breath at my ear drags a shiver through me. He’d been so sure, so unapologetic, that even the part of me ready to swing on him took a full second to show up.
But man, the guy can kiss! And I didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. I’d let him kiss me again if he was standing here right now.
A sharp knock jolts me and for an instant, my heart gallops beneath my breast at the thought that Jake has come back to continue kissing me.
I open the door and my heart stops, then starts up again. Not Jake wanting to take me in his arms, then.
Instead, Ash, looking frustrated and angry, stands on the other side.
He pushes inside the moment the door opens.
The room seems smaller with him in it.
He doesn’t so much enter as fill it, shoulders set, jaw locked, his eyes throwing sparks.
The door closes behind him with a quiet finality that doesn’t match the bristling anger coming off his body.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, and it’s not a question.
“Nice to see you too,” I say with a wry smile.
He paces once, then turns on me. “Carl’s lost it if he thinks you’re playing girlfriend for Jake.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek and his hands flex at his sides.
“You don’t have to yell at me about it,” I say. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Sorry. I know it wasn’t, but this is insane. It drags you into the mud for something that isn’t your mess.”
There’s no use pretending it doesn’t sting. “It’s temporary,” I say, keeping my voice even. “A few events to calm the sponsors and the blogs, then we call it quits.
Maybe it was Jake’s kiss that changed my mind because a small, reckless part of me is curious to see what happens when the most notorious player in the league is forced to stand still next to me and pretend I’m the only thing he wants.
But I can’t tell Ash that. He’ll lose his shit.
“What’s really bothering you, Ash?” I say instead. “You seem overly upset about this.”
It’s a moment before he answers, and when he does, his voice is low and tight. “Because I care about you, dammit!” His hands close around my upper arms, bringing our bodies so close I can see the golden specks in his brown eyes. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Heat flares under his grip and my pulse jumps so hard it feels like my heart is knocking on my ribcage.
His gaze scans my face then lingers on my mouth. A shudder ripples through him and my body responds in kind.
Ash glances up into my eyes, his own darkening with heat, then lowers his head. Slowly.
“Tell me to stop,” he says when his lips are so close I can feel their warmth and the heat from his breath.
“Don’t stop,” I say breathlessly.
His lips melt against mine, and the world tilts. For a heartbeat I freeze, stunned by the sudden heat of him pressed so close.
Then the shock burns into something hotter, something reckless that coils low in my belly. His mouth is firm, coaxing.
Ash’s palm slides to the small of my back and pulls me closer. My fingers climb his shoulders and lock there.
The heat of him is immediate and dangerous, and I lean into it like I’ve been cold all week.
His body cages mine against the wall without pinning me, and he deepens the kiss until a small sound breaks loose in my throat.
He swallows it, and the sound seems to fuel him.
A low noise answers in his chest that sends a ribbon of heat straight through my core.
He breaks away just enough to breathe, forehead resting against mine.
Our breaths tangle.
His thumb strokes the line of my jaw, and the gentleness there makes me dizzy.
“This is a mistake,” I whisper, my voice a bit shaky and husky.
“Probably,” he says, then he kisses me like he’s done being reasonable.
We stumble toward the bed without looking where we’re going. Thankfully, nothing trips us or prohibits us from reaching our destination.
My knees hit the edge of the bed and I plop down ungracefully, but neither of us notice.
Ash doesn’t waste time and follows me, bracing his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush me, never breaking the kiss.
Are we really doing this? Are we really taking this to the next level?
But then, his mouth travels to my throat and my thoughts scatter. His teeth nibble and tease my neck and collarbone, part pain, part pleasure.
His mouth retraces the path, soothing the slight sting from his teeth. His fingers slide beneath my blouse and another fire builds inside me.
My nipples tighten, waiting impatiently for his touch.
Every nerve lights. He pauses, like he’s listening for a no, and when it doesn’t come, his hand continues up my side, slow, deliberate, reverent in a way that unspools something tight in my chest.
“Tell me to stop,” Ash says again, voice gravel against my skin.
I answer by arching my hips against him, pressing our bodies even tighter together.
He groans.
The sound vibrates against my collarbone. The kiss returns, hotter, deeper.
My hands slip under his shirt and find heat and hard muscle.
He shudders, and the reaction knocks a small, shaky laugh out of me that has nothing to do with humor and everything to do with how impossibly good this feels.
His mouth opens against mine and the kiss becomes more heated, urgent.
We roll, and I end up straddling him, my palms on his chest.
My hair falls forward, covering us in our own private world. He looks up at me with eyes blown dark with desire. The sight steals my breath.
“This isn’t fair,” he says, his voice thick and rough with unquenched desire. “I came here to talk sense into you.”
“That going well?” My voice is more breathless than I intended.
His answering smile is quick and wicked. “Not even a little.”
The kiss pulls us under again. It turns messy and urgent, a push-pull of mouths and hands, of restraint applied and then abandoned.
His hands roam my body, mapping the curve of my back, the flare of my hips. My fingers open at his belt then close again, gripping fabric like a lifeline.
A low curse breaks from him when I shift my weight and the friction spikes. The sound travels through me like another touch.
The phone rings.
The sharp sound slices the room like a blade. We jump as if someone doused us with ice water. Ash squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard.
I scramble off him and reach for the nightstand with a shaking hand. The screen swims for a second before the caller ID comes into focus. My stomach drops.
“Don’t,” Ash says under his breath, but I’m already answering.
“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t sound like mine. It’s husky and a little wrecked.
Static cracks, then my brother’s voice slams through, tight with fury and something that sounds like fear.
“I know what you’re doing,” Trent growls, each word clipped. “And you’d better stop it right now before it gets out of hand.”