Fumbled (Playbook #2)(6)

Then before I have a chance to react, his mouth is on mine.

It’s not a gentle kiss. His soft, full lips press hard against mine, and his full beard scratches my face. My stomach flips and I get so light-headed I reach out and grab his shirt for support.

He bites my bottom lip and tugs, just like he used to. I’m not sure if it’s the gentle pain of his teeth grazing against my lip that makes everything even more intense or if it’s knowing that he still remembers what I like, but I gasp and he takes advantage of my open mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. Our tongues tangle, exploring and tasting . . . remembering.

I feel like I’m floating, the only thing tethering me to the earth beneath me are his hands. Electricity flows from his fingertips, burning his movements into my skin. It’s painful and exciting and wonderful.

I don’t know how long we stand here, him in his expensive suit, me in a sequined corset, tangled together, because it feels like time has stopped. After a while, our kiss becomes less wild and his soft lips touch mine once more. A sweet ending.

I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His rapid heartbeat pounds under my cheek as he draws circles against the exposed skin of my back and I feel a sense of peace settle over me.

I’ve not been an angel since we parted ways. I mean, I’m grown and I have needs. I’ve had relationships and wild nights. But this? This kiss? It was better than anything I’ve had over the years.

“I like your suit,” I whisper. “Sorry I threw booze on it.”

“S’all right.” He squeezes his arms around me. “I like your outfit too.”

“It’s too small. I almost broke a rib putting it on.”

He starts to shake beneath me, and when I look up at him, he’s laughing, his perfect lips, his deep Cupid’s bow that I still dream about sometimes, are pulled up at the corners. His eyes, back to the bright green I adore, are creased at the corners, one slightly hidden by his long, silky locks. And it’s all so much better than the anger he had directed at me only moments ago.

“Missed you,” he whispers.

“Missed you too, Ace.”

As soon as the little nickname I had for him in high school falls from my lips, the mirage around me crumbles to my feet. My back goes straight and I push away from him with a quickness not even I am prepared for. I stumble backward, swatting away his hands as they try to steady me.

“This is a mistake.” My voice doesn’t waver even though my insides are knotted and my hands are shaking. Most likely because, as much as I hate to say it, I mean every single word I’m saying. “You need to leave.”

“What? What just happ—”

I cut him off. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I need to go. You need to go.” I’m rambling. Panic courses through my veins, the slight breeze in the air causes goose bumps to break out up my arms and legs. “We can’t do this.”

“Like hell we can’t.” His deep voice rumbles with frustration.

He starts to walk toward me again, but as he does, the back door opens and Phil’s glare finds me in a split second.

“You comin’ back to work or what?” His tone indicates I don’t actually have an option.

Not that I need one. I don’t run again. I take a deep breath and ignore TK. I walk through the door with my head held high and TK’s eyes burning a hole through the back of my head.

But I still have my secret.

One neither one of us is ready to talk about.

One that will stay where it’s supposed to if he listens to me and leaves me alone.

But like I said, my luck is crap and I need to prepare. TK isn’t the only one in for a shock.

Ace is going to be pissed.





Three




I didn’t go back to work.

I took a detour to my purse and told Rochelle that VIP was all hers. Then I got the hell out.

“I can’t believe you just left!” Sadie is still scolding me through the phone.

“My uniform got ruined. My replacement was small. Then I poured drinks all over the Mustang players Phil’s been dying to get into the club.” I recount the events she’s already aware of, leaving out my parking-lot tryst. “I know when to call it quits. Nothing good was going to come from last night.”

“Phil was pissed. Like more pissed than I’ve ever seen him. And you told Rochelle to cover for you?” Her voice goes up ten decimals. She hates Rochelle almost as much as Rochelle hates me. “You know that miserable bitch is the worst. She tried to steal my tips!”

“I’m sorry. She was the only person I saw and I wasn’t thinking straight.” I attempt to placate her, more worried about the Phil part of what she’s saying. “But Phil. How pissed would you say he was? Like he’s going to put me in the shitty parts of the club for a few weeks or I shouldn’t go back in because I’m fired?”

“He was going to fire your ass. He said it about a hundred times to the football players. ‘Sorry about her. I promise, she’s gone after the scene she caused.’” She mimicked his hoarse smoker’s voice so well I might’ve laughed if I wasn’t about to throw up.

“What do you mean, he was going to fire me?” I try to get her to focus on the important part.

“The guys didn’t care. Honestly, they were laughing after it happened. The only thing bothering them was Phil. He might as well have dropped to his knees. It was pathetic, truly.”