Author: Shea, Kacey
Date: 2019-08-11
Publisher: Kacey Shea Books LLC

One Hot Night

A Caught in the Lies Prequel

Kacey Shea

One Hot Night

Kacey Shea

Copyright © 2019 by Kacey Shea Books LLC

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Recognition

Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Editing: Brenda Letendre, Write Girl Editing Services

Proofreading: Christina Weston, Erin Toland, & Melissa Hake

Created with Vellum

Dedication

To quickies and dick jokes.

Because not all satisfaction needs to come from long, hard things.

Foreword

I hope you enjoy this short and steamy prequel. Cam and Jill’s full story continues in Caught in the Lies, releasing October 3 and available for pre-order now!

Or begin with Callie’s story in Caught in the Flames, a complete standalone available now in ebook, audio, and print.

Also by Kacey Shea

Sports Romance

The Perfect Comeback

Firefighters

Caught in the Flames

One Hot Night

Caught in the Lies

Caught in the Chase

Rock Stars

Detour

Derail

Hinder

Replay

Uncovering Love Series

Uncovering Love

Uncovering Desire

Uncovering Hope

Uncovering Love: The Wedding

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Also by Kacey Shea

About the Author

Chapter One

My heart races and beads of sweat gather at my brow. “No. No fucking way!” I shake my head vehemently, sending my locks swishing over each shoulder from where they’re held back in a high ponytail. I don’t care that my shouts draw the attention of almost everyone at this party, I’m fucking riled up, a little drunk, and I won’t let this idiot spew more propaganda. “Rice would beat Edelman in any match-up. Hands. Fucking. Down.”

“How can you even say that?” Cam sputters, holding up his hands as his eyes bug. He’s careful to balance his red Solo so his beer doesn’t slosh over the edge. “The game was slower thirty years ago! It’s not even a fair comparison. Rice would get his ass handed to him. Edelman is a god.”

“Fucking Patriots fans,” I grumble, then have to restrain myself from the urge to spit. It happens whenever I’m talking to a Boston diehard. I don’t even think Cam is from there, which only makes it worse. I don’t get how someone can call Richmond home and cheer for the Pats. “How can you do Jerry so wrong? You should be ashamed. Some football fan you are.”

A chorus of ‘ohhhs’ sounds off around us, bringing a smile to my lips. We’ve gathered quite a crowd to our heated debate. I take extreme satisfaction in knowing his own friends are on my side.

“Say that again. To my face.” He tips his chin in challenge, but there’s a twinkle to his gaze, as though he finds my accusation amusing. Or maybe it’s my unwillingness to back down. We’re almost flirting. Okay, we totally are. Most guys find it entertaining I’m into sports—you know, since I come with a vagina. Sexist motherfuckers. That is, until I show them up with my vast knowledge and prove them wrong. Then my little brain isn’t so cute. But my memory and affinity for sports trivia comes in handy sometimes, especially in a situation like this. It’s my cool party trick.

I lift my brows, holding back a smirk as I prepare to shut him down. I see his cocky swagger, and raise him with one swish of my ponytail. Pushing the black frames of my glasses up the bridge of my nose, I jut out my chest and take a step forward to invade his personal space.

His body sways, almost as if he wants to lean into me and press his chest to mine, or maybe that’s the beer in his system.

“1,549 receptions. 2,895 receiving yards, and 208 touchdowns.” The words fly from my lips, the information easily extracted from my brain like from an index card. But something weird happens to my voice. Even to my own ears I hear the huskiness, and my breath grows shallow. “If your boy Julian tripled his stats today, he’d still come up short.” I suck in an inhalation and my breasts graze his solid chest. A surge of unwelcome lust passes through my veins as I deliver my final blow. “I feel sorry for your fantasy team.”

“Damn, McClain!” someone hoots from behind us. Vivacious laughter assaults my ears, along with a mix of insults and shouts of awe from our spectators as they realize I’m right.

“Chick’s a frickin’ sports Einstein.”

I bristle at the chick comment. Doesn’t matter most of these guys are in their late twenties and early thirties, they’re as sexist as the frat guys from the parties my best friends Alicia and Callie dragged me to when we attended VCU. We graduated this last May, but not much has changed. I’m still being dragged to parties, and men are still insensitive chauvinistic know-it-alls.

The only reason I’ve spent the last few hours guzzling cheap beer and making conversation with strangers is because I agreed to help Callie impress her new boyfriend, Chase, an arrogant peacock of a man. He’s a firefighter. Hell, most of the guys at this party likely share the same profession, and while several are nice to look at, the inherent sexism is almost too much to take. These guys aren’t my type. Even the man I’m having a verbal sparring match with, Chase’s much older brother Cam, is the complete opposite of what I go for.

Only, my body must have missed the memo because I’m experiencing an unfamiliar buzz of attraction. He’s a hulk of a guy, big and muscular, even if we are the same height. But it’s not so much his total hotness that catches my interest as it’s the way words sputter from his mouth. A mouth I have the urge to kiss. One that looks practiced in the ways of delivering pleasure. We’ve been debating sports for almost twenty minutes and I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to be suckered into this argument, other than it feels a lot like foreplay.

“Dude, she’s fucking awesome!” Another of Cam’s friends slaps him on the back.

“You.” Cam’s golden brown eyes dance with humor, as if he’s just won when everyone in the room feels otherwise. That is, unless he’s some kind of a mind reader and knows I’m considering shoving him down the hall and shutting his stupid mouth with a heavy make out session. Fuck me. Did someone turn on the heat? “Making me look bad in front of my crew.”

Standing close enough to notice the sprinkle of white hairs hidden in the scruff of his beard and his generous laugh lines, I resist the urge to press my mouth to his. He’s even older than I thought. Still, he’s really handsome in a rugged, manly, knows-how-to-use-his-hands kind of way. Jesus. I shake my head to clear the naughty thoughts racing through my mind. What is my deal?

“Crew?” I furrow my brow in mock confusion before releasing a bright smile. “Oh, right. You play with fire, too?”

“Sometimes.” He’s confident. The man has swagger. “But usually we stick to putting them out.” His lips lift with the hint of a smile, as if he’s holding back a secret. One he might let me in on if I hand over my panties.

My sex clenches. My nipples tighten and if this bra didn’t have a good half cup’s worth of padding they’d be saluting him right through the cotton fabric of my dress. My traitorous body sets women’s rights back at least a decade, and I hate myself a little for allowing him the power. Not that he knows it. Or maybe he does.

Fuck that.

Two of us can play this game.

“Oh? Do they let you hold the hose?”

His lips twitch as if he wants to laugh, but doesn’t. “Sometimes. Though usually it’s easier if someone else does.” He adjusts the front of his jeans. It’s either a subliminal move to get me to look at his junk, or a calculated one. It almost works, but I hold strong.

“Fuck.” He rubs his temple and his chuckle strokes the building desire in my core. “I need another beer.”

As he struts away, my victory should feel more like a win. Only without someone to argue with, I’m suddenly out of my element. Restless. Unsatisfied. The crowd we gathered goes back to their individual conversations. Some people begin to dance. Others meander toward the television to watch the next round of fights.

I lean back against my place on the wall and lift my beer to my lips, studying the party-goers in the standard apartment living room. There’s a fuck ton of people in here and it’s way past ten o’clock. The bass beat of the blaring music rattles my chest. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained. I could never get away with this in my apartment. Then again, most of my neighbors are one step from a retirement home. I’m sure this place attracts a younger crowd what with it being so close to the university.

Alicia dances in the center of the room, making it her personal stage. Her hips swivel provocatively so her skirt lifts indecently high on her thigh. She’s such a fucking tease, and I’d probably hate her if she wasn’t one of my most loyal friends. She’s a little broken—aren’t we all—but she doesn’t try to hide her imperfections. I love that. She lives with an unapologetic freedom I admire. Like right now, she draws the gaze of every guy within ten feet just because she can.

Okay, almost every guy. Not Callie’s new man, which is kinda a relief. I’d all but pegged Chase for a selfish player, but he’s been completely into her tonight. No mixed signals. No playing it cool. Like now, the two are sickeningly sweet as she sits on his lap, his hand wrapped possessively around her hip as he talks shit with his buddies. She’s the perfect doting girlfriend, laughing, and offering her lips willingly when he steals kisses. I’m happy for her, even if their PDA makes me want to gag.

Or maybe that’s the warm beer churning in my belly from our earlier game of flip cup. Which I helped win. Who says college doesn’t teach real world skills? I was supposed to be DD tonight—that was the plan, but Callie wanted to impress her fire captain boyfriend with our flip cup skills. When we helped him beat Cam’s team, he all but jizzed himself. My friends and I were reigning flip cups champs at VCU, and apparently drinking games are like bicycles; doesn’t matter if it’s been six months or four years, I can still chug and flip like a champ.

Downside . . . we’ll have to Uber back.

Absently I wonder how much longer we have to stay. This isn’t really my scene. The macho, proud peacock man parade isn’t my catnip. I’m all about equality in a relationship, even if it’s only a casual hookup. It’s judgmental of me, but the guys at this party all seem as if they got stuck a few levels back on Darwin’s evolution chart. As if to prove my point, one of the guys watching the fights on television jumps from his seat on the couch and literally beats his chest. I glance away and bite back a laugh.

I might as well grab another drink; looks like we’ll be here a while. I slide through the crowd and make my way toward the kitchen where they’ve set up a makeshift bar.

“Aww . . . you missed me.” Cam’s smile greets me the second I step into the galley kitchen. He widens his stance, blocking me from reaching the fridge.

I roll my eyes. “I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, you are.” He drags out the words and his lips widen with a grin. There’s that confidence again.

My body thrills with the promise of what he could offer. Stupid body. “No.” I pause to enunciate my annoyance, albeit feigned. “I’m really not. I need a beer.”

I am not here for a man, or a hookup. I’m turning over a new leaf. Trying to be a relationship kind of girl. I have another date tomorrow with one of my fellow interns at work. A third date, no less. Only, the thought of spending an evening with Preston doesn’t hold even a fraction of the thrill as the thought of dragging Cam back to one of the bedrooms.

“I got you.” Cam swings around and opens the fridge to grab a can from inside. He turns back and holds it up out of reach.

“If you think I’ll climb you for it, you’ve got the wrong woman,” I say dryly.

“No doubt.” But he doesn’t stop smiling as he hands over the beer. “Rematch? I need to reclaim my dignity.”

My brow scrunches with confusion as I pop the top to my can. “I’m not sure that’ll ever be possible. I’d bet your reputation was sullied years ago.”

“Flip cup. Come on.” He nods to my red cup, his gaze full of determination. “You and me. Right now.”

I shake my head and let loose a genuine laugh as I dump the contents of the can into my cup. “No way.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” He nudges my shoulder with his and drops his voice even though we’re the only two in the kitchen. “Don’t blame you. Hard to recreate a fluke.”

Umm . . . what?

“I’m sorry,” I say incredulously and not apologetic in the least. My spine prickles at his arrogant tone. “I don’t have anything to prove. You’re the one who threw a hissy fit when your team got their asses handed to them by a bunch of women.”

“Anomaly.” He shrugs his shoulders, staring back with challenge as he takes a sip from his beer. “Lucky break. Bet you couldn’t do it again.”

I set down my beer, my hands go to my hips, and I lift my chin. “And why’s that?”

He strokes the stubble of his jaw as if he’s considering my question. His eyes light up and meet my gaze. “Because everyone knows men are superior to women at drinking games.”

I suck in a sharp breath. Anger bubbles in my veins. My hands ball into fists. A brief moment passes between us, one in which I debate ripping that ignorant blank stare off his lips with a verbal lashing so harsh he’ll wish I kicked him in the balls. That, or letting loose a scream and storming out of the room before I smack him in the gut.

But before I do either, his brow lifts and the tight line of his pressed lips quivers. “Dude.” A chuckle escapes his mouth and his shoulders shake. “You should see your face right now.”

My irritation lightens. He’s fucking with me. Damn it, could I be more gullible? I refuse to laugh at his ruse. “Oh, so now you’re a comedian?”

His jovial laughter softens his eyes and takes away the big bad alpha vibe he’s been sporting this entire party. Not that I’ve been watching him. Okay, so maybe I have. But my interest has more to do with his brother dating my friend. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“You have to admit I almost had you.”

I almost had you. His words do something to my body, and my thighs press together with the idea of him having me in an intimate sense. Fuck. I’ve only had a few beers. I can’t blame alcohol on my impaired judgment. Why am I so attracted to this man? I roll my eyes to chase that bad idea from my mind. “So glad you find this amusing.”

His gaze flickers with interest and he leans one hip against the counter. “You’re not having a good time?”

I bite my lip as I decide whether to lie or tell the truth. Parts of tonight have been fun, but really I’ve only made the best of it because Callie needs me here. This isn’t my scene, never really was. “Not particularly.” I go with honesty.

“I know what’ll make it better.” He grabs my beer off the counter and hands it to me, a serious look on his face. “Come on.”

But I’ve already fallen for his charades once tonight. “I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Sure you do.” He winks, then reaches up and tugs on the ponytail of my hair. By his goofy grin it’s not meant to be sexual, but fuck if it doesn’t make me wet. An image of him wrapping my long locks around his fist to arch my back while he fucks me from behind flashes into my consciousness. My body heats, my muscles tighten, and I have to glance away because I’m almost certain he’ll be able to read the dirty thoughts racing through my mind if I meet his gaze.

What is with this guy?

No, it’s not him. It’s me. My reaction is purely physical. That must be it. I’m sure if anyone pulled my ponytail I’d press my thighs together. Right?

I’m such a liar.

“Come on.” Cam’s deep chuckle rolls over me, not helping the lust situation one bit. “Who do you take me for, Jill? I don’t go around showing the big man to just anyone. He’s scared of strangers.”

There’s so much wrong with what he said, but I settle on the obvious. “Big man?” A guffaw escapes my mouth and my eyebrows shoot high.

“You’re a dirty bird, Jill. Stop thinking about my dick.” He winks and clamps his big paw of a hand around my fingers, tugging me to follow him out of the kitchen.

I sputter but a quick retort dies on my lips as he walks us through the party, completely ignoring the mix of cat calls and jeers as he moves toward the hallway.

Somewhere in the throng of people Alicia shouts, “Get some, Jilly!” Great. Now everyone thinks I’m hooking up with Cam.

In the hall, I yank my hand from his and stop short. “Where are we going? And what’s with the caveman act? I don’t appreciate being manhandled.”

“Sorry.” He turns to meet my glare with an apologetic wince. “Got excited. I should have asked.”

“Look I’m sure you’re a nice guy.” Maybe. “And I’m sure we’d have great sex.” Fuck me, did I really admit that aloud? “But I’m kinda unavailable.” Mostly, sort of. Preston and I haven’t gone past first base, and the fact I haven’t had the urge to call or text him once tonight is probably a bad sign for our budding relationship. But Cam doesn’t need to know that.

Cam’s grin spreads across his face, and his eyes practically crinkle as he noticeably holds in a laugh. Nope. Scratch that. He full on laughs.

My hand goes to my hip and I narrow my glare. “What’s so funny?”

He blows out an exaggerated exhale and leans back against one of the closed doors. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

I have no clue what he means because I’m the opposite of trouble. I’m a rule follower. I don’t push boundaries. I always speak my mind, and go after what I want. And right now, I want to climb Cam like a ladder, even though it’s wrong on so many levels.

His stare doesn’t stray from mine, his gaze more knowing than it should be for someone I just met.

I shift under the uncomfortableness, and lift my beer to my lips so I have something to do with my hands.

“Sooo . . .” He grins as if he knows exactly why I’m guzzling back beer. “Wanna check out my rock collection?”

I almost choke, but manage to recover with a cough. I glance at him, and then around us though there’s no one except for two women waiting on what I assume is the bathroom. I want to laugh and roll my eyes, but manage to do neither. “And that’s where? In your room?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, the edges of his lips tugging up playfully. “Where else would I keep my rocks?”

I’m not sure if rock collection is a euphemism for dick, but weirdly enough I’m mildly intrigued by his invitation. Still, I narrow my gaze. I don’t follow strange men into their bedrooms. Not unless I’m looking to get laid, and well . . . okay, so I’m not opposed to the idea. As long I set the expectation ahead of time and he’s cool with a one-time thing.

“I don’t know.” I tap my finger against the rim of my cup. “Just how impressive is this rock collection?”

“Well, it’s hard. And big. Both in girth and length.”

I bite back my grin. “Someone likes to exaggerate.”

“Why don’t you come see for yourself?” His grin is full of challenge, but that’s not what wins me over; it’s the hint of a dimple hiding behind his scruffy jawline. Dimples. I’m a fucking sucker for them, and his have been playing peek-a-boo all night.

“Fine.” I lift my brow. “But only to see whether or not you’re a liar.”

A flash of something I can’t quite name dims his grin for a second before he bursts into laughter, those dimples popping just as I hoped they would. Le sigh. “Let’s do it, then.” He motions for me to follow.

It’s okay to hook up with the older brother of the guy your best friend is dating if you only do it once, right? Shit. Even my tipsy brain knows this is a horrible idea. But then again, why does Callie get all the fun? There are plenty of firemen to go around, and this one looks at me with an interest that can’t be faked. Maybe it’s a bad idea, but a thrill shoots up my spine as I decide to do it anyway.

Chapter Two

“Oh, my God!” I burst into laughter the second my eyes land on them. “You weren’t joking.” I walk the length of his bookcase and examine his very hard and very real rock collection.

“You’re impressed.” He leans against the wall, a cocky smirk in place. “I knew you would be.”

My gaze leaves his rocks to stare at the way his muscles strain against the fit of his T-shirt. “It’s not every day a guy shows you his geode.” I turn back to his collection so I don’t reach out and stroke his hard body. “It’s smaller than I thought it’d be.” My eyes widen as they land on another and I reach for the stone I’ve always admired. “Is this jade?”

He chuckles, crossing the space between us in a few long strides. “Fuck, keep talking about my rocks like that and I might fall in love.” He’s teasing, but his warning hits all too close to home.

I don’t do love. Ever.

I avert my gaze and dumbly set the jade back in place. “Don’t you dare.” My words come out huskier than I intend and effectively kill the lightheartedness of our banter.

“Jill.” He says my name rough, low, and full of need. There’s no question what he’s asking, even though he hasn’t posed a question. His strong body moves behind me, not close enough that we’re touching, but with a silent promise that his heat could set us both on fire. He only needs my permission to light the match.

I have no intention of getting burned. The smart thing would be to lay out the rules or go back to the party. Hell, I’ve spent the better part of the last hour arguing and pissed off at Cam, but with the rest of the world locked outside this room, I want to rebel. Give in to my most basic instincts. I want to feel. I want him. I want us.

I lift my chin, slowly glancing over my shoulder.

His lips are right there waiting. Full. Sensual. Tempting. “Jill.” This time my name leaves his mouth in a whisper and the rasp of his desire sends a surge of lust throughout my body. “I want you.” He waits though. Almost as if he’s waiting for my consent. Fuck, if that doesn’t turn me on more.

I want him, too. But I can’t have him. Can I?

I turn my body, needing space between our lips so I won’t assault his mouth. But he doesn’t move, and now with my back against his bookcase and his greedy gaze roaming my body as though he wants to eat me up, it’s even more difficult to resist the urge to jump him. “I’m sort of dating someone,” I blurt, mostly full of guilt for not saying something sooner. I’m not one to lead a man on when I’m with someone else. I don’t do love, but that doesn’t mean I sleep around. Though technically, that wouldn’t be the case since Preston and I aren’t sleeping together.

“Sort of?” Cam’s lips tip up at the corners.

I nod, resisting the urge to laugh, too. I am so not discussing Preston with him. “It’s complicated.”

Cam shuffles forward and his hands brace on the shelves at either side of my hips. His gaze heats, and fuck, maybe there’s actual testosterone oozing from his body into the air because my entire body tingles with anticipation. “Have you fucked him?”

The crassness to his question only heightens the sexual tension between us. Like a live wire filled with current, ready to combust and seeking contact. I shake my head, whispering my answer to his question. “No.” My eyes drop to his lips. Fuck, I want to kiss them.

“Then it doesn’t seem complicated to me.” In one swift move his mouth covers mine. Fucking finally. His hands widen over my hips and he presses our bodies together. His mouth tastes like beer, but moves with an expertise and control I lean into. There’s nothing soft or easy about this kiss. It’s possessive. Demanding. Commanding. And fuck if it’s not exactly what I need. He tugs my body closer, not satisfied until I’m flush against him, and only then does he break our kiss. “Want. You.” His chest rises with heavy breaths.

My hands run along his strong arms and don’t stop until they reach the back of his head. “Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“One-time thing.” I nod, ready for his lips on mine again. That and fewer clothes. I feel the hardness of his cock between us and much like his rock collection . . . it’s impressive. “Just tonight.”

“You really are the perfect woman.” His lips tip up at the corners and then they’re headed for my neck. He moves across my heated skin, trailing kisses, and the scruff of his jaw scrapes in the most delicious way.

“I’m really not.” I practically pant. His mouth moves lower, clearly heading for the neckline of my dress and the hint of cleavage there, as his hands roam upward to cup my breasts. I grab his head, tilting his jaw so he meets my gaze. “One night. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He finds my stare and bites the corner of his lip. He heaves out a breath as if he’s reaching for focus. I kinda like that he seems a little dazed after only a few minutes of making out. Makes me wonder what he’ll look like when he comes. “Only once.” His hands find my hips again, sliding over my backside. He hauls me right off the ground. Fuck. That’s hot. “I better make it good.” He squeezes my ass then turns to walk us toward his bed.

“You better,” I whisper into his mouth, drawing his full lips into my kiss.

He kisses me back, hard. Then sucks my lower lip, giving it a playful nip before lowering my feet to the floor.

His hands roam up my body until they’re cupping my face, holding me in place as he assaults my mouth with his own. Not that I mind. His kisses are passionate, needy, almost unpracticed as his teeth click against mine.

My body aches with the need for more. I press my chest against his, and my hips move in an effort to seek friction in the building need between my legs. I don't know this man, but for what we’re doing I don't need to. In this moment and space, my primal needs and urges take precedence. My body buzzes with anticipation as his hands skim down my body to reach for the hem of my dress. His fingertips drag along my sides, scattering goosebumps across my flesh as he pulls my dress over my head.

His eyes are ablaze with desire when they land on the lacy cups of my bra, then leisurely trail down to my skimpy thong. “Fuck, I'm one lucky bastard.”

“Please don't tell me you're all talk and no game.” My words are taunting. Sexual. In part because the way he's looking at me feels too intimate. More intimate than I'm comfortable with, and it’s not because I’m the only one down to my underwear. The way he stares feels as if he’s peeling back layers. As if he sees beyond my front, or more than a one-time fuck. A spike of fear that he’ll want more lifts my brow in silent challenge. It’s rude, but if he can’t handle a little sass it’s better I leave now. There's a reason I'm not a relationship girl.

His chuckle wraps around me like an embrace. The wink of a dimple brings wetness between my legs. He’s not intimidated by my sharp words; if anything he’s entertained. “Naked. Now,” he practically growls. His gaze goes from playful to serious as he reaches over his shoulder, grips the fabric of his T-shirt, and in one swift move has it off.

“Bossy.” My gaze stutters at the sight of his broad chest, narrow trim waist, and glorious happy trail leading to the promised land. I swallow and offer up a silent prayer he isn’t sporting a micro-dick.

“Damn straight.” He pops the button on his jeans and slides the fly down with agonizing slowness. “That a problem?”

I stare, right at his crotch, waiting for a glimpse. “Only if I don't come.”

His lips spread in a wide grin and he shuffles forward, crowding me until the back of my legs hit the edge of his mattress. “First”—he reaches around my back and in one expert move unhooks the clasp of my bra. I gasp, bringing a smile to his lips—“I’m going to make you come with my fingers.” He runs his hands down my hips, tracing the elastic band of my thong until his grip is filled with my ass cheeks. He gives one side a slap and my breath hitches again.

Fuck. Why is his dominance so hot?

“And my mouth.” He dips his chin and his lips work along my neck to the valley between my breasts. His hands drag the straps of my bra off my arms to drop between us on the floor. Then his hungry mouth pulls one hard nipple in. He licks my breast with his tongue, leaning my body back in an arch. His arms hold me upright, barely, then they’re gone. I land on the mattress with a gentle thump.

“Then my dick.” He straightens and shucks his jeans.

Praise be. He’s big. Hard. Beautiful. Inside I give a little squeal because I just won the dick-lotto. Fucking hell. How does he walk around with that thing? It’s giant. Bigger than I’ve ever had. My legs press together as I imagine how he’ll feel inside.

His eyes dance with cocky assurance. He knows that thing’s a monster cock. Guess I’m not the only one with a cool party trick.

“Then fuck me already,” I say with a coolness I don’t really feel. My body aches for his touch, my need building. But he doesn’t need ego stroking, and I’m not the kind of woman to give it. Though I am eager to stroke something else right now. I back up on the mattress, widening my legs and then making grabby hands.

“You want this.” He grips himself, the length and girth of his hardness on full display.

I nod as a twinge of unease seeps into my consciousness. I’ve seen my fair share of penises, but his puts all others to shame. I have no doubt he’ll fit, but will he be too rough? It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. Pain is not my kink.

He grabs a condom from his bedside table then kneels on the bed, crawling forward to brace himself over me. His masculine presence is almost overbearing and his heavy erection juts out, stealing my attention. Fuck. Maybe it won’t fit.

His hand cups my chin, tilting my gaze back up to his. The pad of his thumb caresses my cheek and there’s a tenderness in his eyes. “This okay?”

Permission. He’s asking fucking permission. In that one question my nerves retreat and my confidence flares in its place. “I want to touch you,” I admit, my fingertips sliding down his chest toward his cut V. Jesus. He must work out constantly.

His dick bobs as if saying hello, and a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. “Someone’s happy to see you.” His amusement dies the second my fingers wrap around him. With our foreheads pressed together while our shallow breaths fill the room, he watches as I jack him off.

I stroke him, up and down, tighter and tighter, my grip strong around the soft flesh that covers his rock-hard length. Arousal grows in my belly, the power of what I’m doing to this big, cocky fireman fueling my confidence. Precum leaks from his tip, a most erotic sight, and we groan.

“My turn.” He pulls my hands from his erection, and pins them at my sides. Then his mouth is moving, down my breasts, teasing a nipple, biting at my hip, settling between my legs. His hands release my wrists to lift my legs and spread them wide. Exposing me. Open. Vulnerable. Wanton. “This pretty pussy is wet for me.” He stares at it with so much lust, as if he might actually die without a taste.

My breath hitches. Fuck me. I’m drenched.

He inhales, his mouth still inches away as he lifts the fabric of my thong over my mound and to the side. “This where you wanted me?” His fingers stroke around my center, but avoid my throbbing clit.

I need him to touch me. When he finally does, it won’t take much to set me off—our verbal sparring effective foreplay to this very moment. I groan, move my hips, and strain for the friction I desperately need.

“Come on. Say it.” He gives my pussy a slap that delivers more surprise than pain. “Tell me what you want.”

So Cam likes dirty talk? My clit throbs. Apparently so do I. “Fuck me with your mouth. Your fingers. Your cock. I want it all.”

“Fuck, yeah.” It’s all the encouragement he needs and his eyes darken with desire. His fingers slide between my wetness, his mouth moving over my clit. He licks. Kisses and sucks. His fingers slide inside to help. With swift and sure ministrations, he brings me closer. Makes me hotter. Draws curses along with his name from my lips.

“Fuck, I need inside.” He releases me and grabs the condom, opening the wrapper and sliding on the latex. “I can’t decide if I want to bend you over or take you like this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because either way, I won’t be able to last. Fuck, you’re so damn sexy. What do you want?”

I like that he asks. That I get to be in charge, to take back control, especially after he brought me to the edge of my orgasm and didn’t finish me off. “I want to ride you.”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He slides back on the sheets as I roll to my knees and climb over him. I straddle his waist, line us up, and wait until he meets my gaze before spreading my knees and sinking down on his hard length.

We both gasp. In this position he fills me to the brink of pain. I’m so full. Thanks to all our foreplay, I’m wet enough for this to work. I inhale a breath, then move, swiveling my hips as I rock back and forth, up and down. Cam’s hands find their way to my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he helps quicken my pace. I rise and sink down, my clit making glorious contact with his pelvis.

“Yeah, that’s it. Get there.” One hand widens and his thumb slides down to massage my clit, playing it like his favorite instrument. Fitting, since it brings an erotic soundtrack of moans and gasps to my lips. I allow my eyes to drift shut, getting lost in the feel of everything. The slap of our bodies coming together spurs me on and I arch back, grinding on him.

“Fuck, Jill. Come on this dick.” He grunts his demand, thrusting his hips up to meet my rhythm.

I open my eyes and my gaze settles on his. The heat I find there, along with the strong set of his jaw, as if it’s taking every last ounce of his control to not come inside me is what sets me off. My toes curl. Incoherent sounds of pleasure escape my lips. My movements jerk with the tremors of my release. I swear I see stars, but more likely I forget to breathe as the aftershocks of my orgasm shudder through my body.

“I’m gonna . . .” But he doesn’t bother finishing the sentence. His hands lift my hips up off of his, and his condom covered erection bobs free as a guttural groan passes through his clenched jaw. I watch in fascination as his cock pulses, resting on his belly and filling the condom. The sight alone sparks a new wave of arousal through my limbs.

“Sorry,” he says between breaths, his chest rising and falling as if he just ran a sprint. “I couldn’t hold off any longer. You felt so good.” He tugs me down onto the bed next to him, then turns on his side.

This part—the after—is always my least favorite. My body wants to sink into a post-orgasmic haze, but my eyes don’t know where to look and my brain can’t think of what to say without making it awkward. Should I offer him a high five? Run like the wind? Too bad I couldn’t wrinkle my nose, blink, and end up transported to the safety of my own bed.

“Hey.” He catches my gaze, his own unreadable. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Oh . . .” I consider lying, but something in his stare pushes me to share a little more of the truth. “Teleportation.”

His chest shakes with laughter before the sound escapes his lips. Hello, dimples. Le sigh. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult.”

Is he really fishing for a compliment? I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back my own amusement.

“Hey, it was good for you?” His eyes are wide, no trace of humor in them as if he’s genuinely concerned.

A piece of my cynical heart melts a little. Just a little. Because I have no doubt this man knows he delivered. “It was . . .” Mind-blowing. Orgasmic. Fucking fantastic. Literally. I scrunch my nose and give his naked form one long look, but when my eyes land on his I decide not to feed his ego. “Acceptable.” I roll away from his body and gather my discarded clothes.

His burst of laughter fills the quiet, chasing any lingering awkwardness to the moment. “Bathroom’s through there. It’s private. I have the master.” He nods across the room.

Thankful for the fact I don’t have to dress in front of an audience, I slink into the bathroom and relieve my bladder before tugging on my clothes. My skin is flushed, my neck and breasts rubbed red from his scruff. The band of my ponytail is secure, but several strands of hair have escaped, giving off a disheveled appearance. I look thoroughly fucked. Without a brush, I do my best to pull my hair back in place.

A knock at the door jolts my focus from the mirror. “Hey, you okay in there?”

I grip the doorknob, twist and swing it open.

Cam startles a little at my sudden appearance, but he recovers quickly with a slow grin. “Hey.” His pants are back in place, but his chest is bare and highly distracting.

I can’t pull my gaze from the muscular cut of his body. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just wanted to make sure you’re good.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He bites at the edge of his lip. “Um, no reason.”

“Okay, well, I better go.” I nod past him and when he moves out of my way, I brush past, careful not to graze his body with mine. Not because I don’t want to. God, he’s so fucking hot. I kinda want to push him back onto the bed and demand a rematch. He’d probably be game. He’d absolutely deliver. Once with Cam is not nearly enough; the man is skilled. But that would send mixed signals, and I do not want to confuse our agreed-upon terms. In my experience that only leads to messy, uncomfortable conversations, and good sex isn’t worth that.

Sliding my shoes back on, I reach for where I left my phone. There are several notifications, but I ignore them.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in,” Cam says, striding over with his confident steps.

“Why?” I force out a wry laugh. “So you can call me?”

“No.” There he goes again with that knowing smirk. As if he knows something I don’t.

“No?” I raise my brows. Then why does he want my number? Is this his move? What he does to ease women out of his bed. Does he think I can’t handle a one-time hookup? That I’ll chase him? I scoff. “What, you think I’m calling you?”

He chuckles, his open palm held between us. “No.”

“Then why?” Against my good judgment I hand over my cell. I’m not sure why, other than it makes him smile and those dimples pop. They’re almost as distracting as his bare chest.

He takes my phone and taps the screen a few times. He locks the screen and takes a step forward. His lips, full and utterly kissable, are only a breath away, but instead of going for my mouth he slides my phone into my back pocket. He gives my ass a squeeze and steps back. “Maybe I’ll send you a dick pic.” He shrugs, then reaches for the door. “If you’re lucky.”

“Yeah?” My voice comes out more seductive than I intend. And fuck me, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. “I won’t hold my breath.” I walk to the door, but he doesn’t open it yet.

His gaze waits for mine. The moment my eyes lock with his, a fluttery feeling takes residence in my belly. He brushes his knuckles across my jaw and cups the back of my head, almost possessively, but doesn’t quite close the distance between our mouths. “I had fun with you tonight.”

“Yeah.” My insides warm with that feeling that comes from being complimented. Even though I know it’s temporary and induced by the post orgasmic satiation haze, it’s still really nice. “You sure know how to show a woman a good time.”

“Rock collection for the win.” He pulls his fist into his chest, giving one of those goofy grins.

“Well, I better get back to the party.” I glance at the door.

“Yeah, we should . . .” He mashes his lips together. I wonder if he wants to kiss me again. Stupid as it is, I wish he would.

Stifling the urge to reach for him, I move toward the door. My gaze drinks him up one last time, and when I settle on his eyes I find him doing the same. As if he can’t get enough. Or maybe he’s memorizing me as I am him. My hand finds the doorknob and I unlock it. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“I don’t doubt you will.” There he goes with that cocky self-assuredness again, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. “Later, Jill.”

My gut tightens, in part because I’m tempted to offer him more, and also because that thought is enough to make me run for the hills. This was a one-time thing, we both agreed, and it’s for the best. More would only lead to disaster. It’s not worth the risk, even if it was one hot night.

Chapter Three

I didn’t really think my escape plan through. Yeah, sure, hooking up with Cam was totally amazing, but I need to get the sight of him—sweaty, hard, and thrusting himself inside me—out of my mind. It’d be a challenging task on its own, but almost impossible being that I’m stuck at a party . . . in his apartment. For the next hour I avoid eye contact and conversation, and pretend he didn’t just rock my world. I’m not sure I’m fooling anyone, but turning it into a drinking game helps.

Each time he catches me looking, I drink. Every time I picture his face as he falls over the edge, I drink. When I get stuck in a conversation with anyone who isn’t him, I drink. Basically, I drink and drink and drink until I can’t exactly remember why I left the cocoon of his sex dungeon.

My limbs feel loose and my body buzzes with the energy of a crowded room as I refill my cup yet again. I meander back to the living room as it buzzes and buzzes again. Right on my ass. What kind of voodoo party is this? Shit. My phone. I pull it out of my back pocket, confused as to who could be calling. Alicia and Callie are here, and there’s no one else I know who’d try and reach me so late on a weekend.

Despite the fact I’m wearing my glasses, I squint to read the screen.

Preston: Looking forward to our date tomorrow.

Fuck.

Preston: I’ll pick you up

Preston: I made reservations at 6

Preston. I haven’t thought of him much since . . . well, since Cam’s dick entered the picture. Does that make me a horrible person? Shit. It must. Guilt and shame churn in my belly. I was honest with Cam, but what I did wasn’t respectful to the man I’m supposed to be dating—exclusively, no less. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I really fucked up. I’m not this person. I don’t sleep around. I don’t cheat. I don’t blur lines or technicalities. How can I go out with Preston tomorrow? How can I keep seeing him and not tell him what I did tonight? Shit.

My fingers hover over the screen as I debate what to text back. I could cancel. Call things off. Bail and take the easy road of never coming clean with what I did. Only I really like Preston. He’s a nice man. We’re the same age. We have things in common. He’s respectful. Nice. Safe.

I promised myself to give it a real try with Preston. I’ve never been open to relationships, not beyond a casual thing, but I wanted to try. This time I thought I could. Preston understood I didn’t want to rush things. We decided to date and see what happened. We both agreed we weren’t interested in seeing other people, and I hadn’t even looked at another man. Until tonight. Until him. Cam. My gaze seeks him out in the crowd. He catches me looking and offers one of his panty-combusting smirks. Fucking dimples. Le sigh.

But I can’t blame his features for any of this. I chose to go into his room. I may have had a few drinks beforehand, but I knew damn well what I was doing. And now I have to decide how to tell Preston. He won’t forgive this, and if he does, do I want to be with a man like that?

This should be some new record. I fucked things up before they even had a chance to start. Shit. Did I sleep with Cam to sabotage my budding relationship with Preston?

“Jilly!” Alicia waves me over. “There’s pizza!”

A stack of boxes balance in one of the party goer’s arms before being deposited on a table next to the couch. Someone else yells “food!” and a group of guys practically mow each other over on the way to nab a slice.

“Ladies first. Have some fucking manners.” Cam. I recognize his voice through the chaos. My body reacts even though I refuse to meet his stare.

“Jill?” Callie stumbles a little as she leans her body into mine. I grab on to her so we don’t both topple over. I think she was doing shots with the guys at some point. I regret not stopping that. She’s drunk. Beyond so.

“Pizza?” Cam clears his throat, standing before us as he pops open the lid on one of the boxes.

“God, yes!” Callie reaches for a slice and has it stuffed in her mouth before she mumbles a thank you.

Cam grins as if he’s amused. He tips his chin my way. “You hungry?”

I don’t even think he means for it to be sexual, but my mind goes there. Fuck yeah, I’m hungry. Only, the thought of getting naked with Cam again brings on a fresh dose of shame.

“Go on.” He moves the pizza box closer to my chest, and Callie grabs another slice with her free hand. “It’ll help soak up all that alcohol.” He misinterprets my hesitation. “I know you haven’t eaten anything.”

Has he been watching over me? My insides melt a little at the thought. Which is so stupid. What the fuck is in this beer? I’m not the girl who needs or wants a doting boyfriend. Fuck. I shake my head. Cam’s not my boyfriend. He’s probably not even looking out, just looking for a way to get me in his bed again. Only that doesn’t feel true either.

“What?” His soft chuckle floats between us. “You’re not one of those poor souls allergic to gluten?”

“Jill, oh-my-fucking-God, you need to eat this.” Callie picks up a piece and shoves it at my face.

I intercept the pizza before it makes contact with my skin. “Thanks.” I force a laugh and roll my eyes at my friend.

“Good girl.” Cam winks—fucking winks—and my panties go damp.

I have to look away. I don’t know what’s going on with me right now, but I don’t want him to see any of it. I breathe a sigh of relief when one of his buddies calls him over from across the room.

The pizza is good. I don’t realize how famished I am until I practically inhale my slice.

Callie leans into my side, her breath hot on my neck as she sighs. “Tired now.” She’s done. I know she is. My friend doesn’t usually have more than a few drinks, and I’d put money on the fact she’s less than an hour from bowing down to a porcelain goddess. She’s only been dating Chase a short time, so it’s my duty to get her out of here before that happens.

“Let’s get you home, yeah.” I pat the top of her head and pull out my phone to request an Uber.

“Sleep,” Callie mumbles.

I drag her over to an open chair near the door. Her eyes close, and she snuggles into the sleeve of her own shirt. I balance her so she won’t fall off before turning to search for Alicia. Doesn’t take long. She’s the center of attention, laughing and practically glued to one of Chase’s firefighter friends. I glance back at Callie, praying she stays put. I’ve had to drag these two from parties before. Herding cats would be easier.

“We’re leaving. You ready to go?”

“Go.” She waves a hand and directs her gaze at the dude everyone is calling Pants. Her lips pull into a seductive smile. “I’ll call an Uber. In the morning.”

“Really?” I already dislike this plan. If we come to a party together, we should leave together. It’s like an unwritten code in the Woman’s Guide to Being a Good Wingman handbook. Unless maybe we’re talking about checking someone off her bucket list, and this dude is no Shawn Mendez. “His name is Pants.”

“Nickname.” She giggles and tosses her locks over one shoulder. She glances at the man in question.

“But you hate wearing pants,” I deadpan. I don’t know if I could ever take seriously a man who goes by a piece of clothing. Pants? Shorts? Shirt? He’s one step from being a blanket. Not that I should judge. I just hooked up with Cam because I like dimples. I release a sigh of defeat. When Alicia wants something, there’s no stopping her. “You’re the reason I’m going to have gray hair.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She throws her arms around me and presses her lips to my cheek. “I’ll be fine,” she whispers at my ear. She turns to a very horny Pants, who’s ready to lead her down the hall. Before he does, she shouts back at me, “Don’t worry, Jilly!”

But her words are pointless. I always worry. God, I hope she knows what she’s doing. Or rather, who she’s doing. Pants might be a firefighter by day, but that doesn’t mean he’s a nice person. I don’t want to see my friend fucked over, and not in the good way.

“Chug, chug, chug!” A chorus of voices rises from the other end of the room as two guys race each other to finish their beers. Cam stands at the edge of the crowd, his eyes following me with interest. A slight grin on his lips reminds me of every delicious thing we just did in his bedroom. I look away. I can’t be dick-stracted right now.

My phone buzzes with an alert. Our ride’s here. I hustle to where Callie is seconds from passing out and haul her to her feet. “Let’s get you home.”

“I’m fun.” Her lower lip juts out and she stops short on the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Okay.” I loop her arm around my waist and force her to hold the railing with her other hand.

“I was fun,” she mutters, a little more indignant this time. “You saw me. Right?”

“You’re the most fun.” I don’t even try to interpret what she’s talking about, but it’s clear this is important. Also, I refuse to miss our ride over a drunken rambling. “Know what would be even more fun? Getting home.”

She acknowledges my words with a grunt, and thankfully stays upright enough that we make it down the stairs without either of us falling. I maneuver her into the back seat and pray she falls back asleep for the car ride. Callie’s a lightweight and probably passed her limit hours ago. Something tells me I’ll be paying for this night for weeks to come. I don’t need a puke charge in our Uber to top it off.

“You ladies had some fun tonight. This the address?” our driver says, meeting my gaze through the rear view mirror as I buckle Callie, then myself.

She grins. “We did have fun. I had fun. Jill, did you have fun?”

I had more fun than I want to admit. “Yep, that’s the address. We’re dropping her home, then another stop for me.” I need to tell Callie about my hookup with Cam. My head pounds with the thought of her reaction. I glance at my friend, her eyes fluttering shut with the lull of the ride. I need to tell her. I do, but that’s a problem for another day. Looks like I’ll be waking up to a cluster of problems. Fuck. I really know how to set my life on fire.

Chapter Four

I wake with a start. My heart hammers in my chest, racing as if there’s something wrong. My mouth is dry and my lips verge on cracking if I don’t get balm on them pronto. I roll off the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thud, and the instant I’m upright I regret it. The acidic tang hits my taste buds and something bubbles up from my gut. I gag and race to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet in time to retch up the entire contents of my stomach.

The disgusting sight makes me vomit again. After flushing away the evidence, I settle my ass on the cold tile floor. My head pounds. My skin’s damp. I need a shower, aspirin, and a tall glass of water.

Hangovers. What a fucking drag.

Peeling off my underwear, I start the shower spray and step inside, careful not to move too fast or lose my balance. Hot water pelts my skin, bringing me back to almost human. My brain fog clears as steam fills the small room. My body aches, muscles I rarely use tight and sore. Cam. My thoughts drift back to last night, and all the fun we had in his bedroom. A shiver runs up my spine despite the warmth of my shower. Fuck me. I know I shouldn’t want it, but I could go for another round with him. His mouth on my body, mine on his. Learning what drives him mad, what pushes him over the edge. His grunts. Groans. Taste. We could take turns making each other come. Okay, maybe I want more than another night. I don’t usually do repeats because it encourages feelings, but once with Cam was not enough.

Too bad I have a date tonight with someone else.

I slam my eyes shut as a wave of shame shuts down the erotic play of my imagination. This. This right here is why I can’t have nice things. Maybe this is my sign. I thought I could try a relationship, that maybe I could be fucking normal for once. Obviously I was wrong. I shake off the anxiety building at this crossroad. I’m tired. Hungover. My head still pounds. I refuse to deal or make any major life decisions in this shower. My stomach grumbles as I turn off the water and step in front of the sink. I could go for a greasy burger and a soda right now.

I finish drying off, comb out my hair, and then search for my cell to get an Uber. My car is still parked at the apartment, and I have—shit! My eyes land on the time. “Shit, shit, shit!” That cannot be right! It’s almost time for my date. Waiting in my inbox is a text from Preston reminding me he’ll pick me up for dinner. Fuck.

Forty minutes later I sit strapped into a stranger’s Prius, my knee bouncing with the speed of my pulse as we weave through an unnecessary amount of traffic. Fuck. I should be in my car and heading home by now. It’s a Sunday for fuck’s sakes.

“Sorry,” my driver, Mike, calls out for what feels like the hundredth time. “Looks like they’ve shut it down.” He points ahead and my eyes catch on the flashing lights in the distance. An SUV flipped. A half a dozen smashed cars. Emergency vehicles everywhere. The enclosed space of the vehicle suddenly feels too confining. Suffocating. We move forward another few feet, then stop. Trapped. The urge to bail is immediate.

Bile rises in my throat, but it’s not from my hangover. “Here’s fine,” I mumble and reach for the door, popping it open before Mike is able to pull over. Doesn’t matter. We’re barely moving as it is, and I doubt he prefers I stay to puke in his car. My feet hit the pavement, and I draw in a long breath. Still, it’s not enough. Heat prickles my clammy skin. The flash of lights and blare of sirens assaults my senses. I can’t get away fast enough. I barely register the blare of horns from annoyed drivers as I cut through the stalled traffic and cross to the other side. If I felt better I’d flip them off, but the only thing my brain can process right now is getting away.

I duck inside the first fast food joint I come across, order a burger, fries, and soda before sliding into an empty booth. I eat as though my life depends on it, and my pulse finally slows. The sheen of sweat covering my body cools at the arctic setting of the restaurant’s air conditioning and I shiver. I check my GPS and conclude the apartment is only a half mile walk from here. Totally do-able once I stop freaking out.

That’s when it hits me. I haven’t heard from Alicia or Callie. Strange. At least, it’s strange Callie hasn’t called or texted. Alicia’s known to ghost, especially after finding a new boy toy for the night, but Callie is more responsible. And she’s alone. I know because I walked her to her door. Fuck. Dread fills my stomach. I hope she’s okay. She drank too much last night. I should’ve run interference with those shots. Or stayed with her last night. A sickening thought flickers through my mind. Callie, face down in her own puke. I swallow back the urge to be sick myself and trash the rest of my uneaten food. Pushing outside the doors, I shoot off a group text to my friends.

Wellness check. Please tell me you’re alive.

Nothing.

No bubbling dots. No text back. Zilch. It’s as if they’ve disappeared. Dropped dead.

I can’t stand the thought.

They’re probably sleeping. Hungover. Misplaced their phones. The rational part of my brain tries reason, but that pressing panic in my chest squeezes tightly with each passing second. My strides are long and determined as I hike back to my car. I check Snapchat, Instagram, and even Facebook searching for some sign of my friends’ presence but find nothing. When my car comes into view, I run the rest of the way and throw myself inside.

The time on my dashboard taunts me and adds another layer to my nerves. I should be home, resting, making myself appear halfway decent for my date, but instead I drive straight to Callie’s. I won’t be able to relax until I know she’s safe. Alive. I shake away the alternatives. Of course she’s alive. She has to be.

I blast through a yellow as my phone pings from its spot in the center console. My pulse stutters and breath slows. It’s probably Callie. Or Alicia. I’m overacting for nothing, letting my imagination run wild with every worst case scenario. It pings again. Then again, but there’s no opportunity to check the screen without taking my eyes off the road. Damn it. I should’ve splurged on a hands-free system for this very situation. At the next stop light, I eagerly glance down at the screen.

What the—?

My eyes practically bug out of my head. The messages are all from Cam.

Cam the Man: Thought you might be missing this guy so I made you something.

Cam the Man: If you print these out they make a naughty flip book.

Cam the Man: You’re welcome.

Attached is a photo of Cam in his boxer briefs. Tight, second-skin-hugging boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. And apparently I’m not the only one remembering last night. The dick print is everything I remember it to be.

Wait. How did he get my number? I scroll up to see a text from my phone to his. Last night, when he programmed it in, no doubt.

Me: Thanks for the best fuck of my life.

Seriously? I scowl at the cockiness of his message. Maybe he meant it as a joke, but it sparks annoyance regardless. Another photo comes through before the light changes, this one showing the tip of his cock poking through the band of his briefs.

A rhythmic beat of text alerts sounds from my phone, serenading my drive. Jesus. Fuck. How many dick pics can one man send? I need to concentrate on driving—on checking on my friend—not this . . . fucking hell, he’s got a nice one. I shake my head, ashamed at how easily he distracted me. It’s exasperating. Rude. Presumptuous, even. And yeah, so maybe for the first time all day laughter bubbles in my chest, fighting to break through at the ridiculousness of his actions. This is definitely a new one. His efforts are unconventional, and quite creative. Just like he is in bed. A flush spreads over my body as my skin heats.

Does he send flip books to all the girls? Show off his rocks? At that thought, my good humor sobers and at the next opportunity to stop, I text him back.

Me: Please stop.

He does, and a little piece inside is disappointed that one text is all it takes to shut him down. Which is stupid. So stupid. I should be relieved. Happy even, that he respects my wishes. Only, his quick retreat feels too easy, and not at all like the challenge I saw in him last night. Whatever. We don’t really know each other beyond the biblical sense, and I have bigger worries at the moment. Callie. She still hasn’t called or texted.

As her home comes into view I breathe a little easier. She’s okay. She has to be. At least that’s what I tell myself as I force my feet up her walkway in steady steps. I bang against the door and wait, the minutes passing like an eternity. The weight of the world presses down on my chest, or maybe it’s my hangover; either way, my legs go weak and I lean against the column of her front archway to keep upright. “Damn it, Callie. Open the fucking door.” I’m seconds from calling Emergency when it swings open.

“Jill.” Her voice croaks. She looks like complete shit, and I think that’s dried puke matted in her hair, but she’s alive. Thank fuck. “You came.”

She’s here. Alive. Of course she is. I push into her place, angry at myself for even thinking otherwise and relieved as hell that nothing’s wrong. My anxiety won that round, and an unsettled energy buzzes in my veins, making me restless.

I can’t help but give her a verbal thrashing for scaring me—after I hug the shit after her. She explains how she must have lost her phone at the party, and her apology is heartfelt. I can’t stay mad. It’s not her fault, and it’s not as if I didn’t also sleep most of the day away. While she gets dressed my conscience gets the better of me and I admit to hooking up with Cam, then about my current predicament. “I’m dating someone else.”

“What?” Her eyes go wide with shock and maybe a little hurt, too.

“I know!” I heave out a sigh, more guilt etching its way into my mind. “I should have told you but it’s still new and we work together so we’ve been keeping it on the down low. We haven’t slept together yet, but we aren’t seeing other people. And last night I had no intention of hooking up with anyone!”

We don’t keep things from each other. Not most things anyway. I don’t know exactly why I didn’t confide in her about Preston. Maybe I always knew I’d screw it up? Maybe I was fooling myself. “Stupid. I’m so stupid. I should have seen it coming and I should have said no, but he was so good and hot and—fuck! Callie what do I do?”

“First, you take a deep breath. Everyone makes mistakes and like you said, this guy and you aren’t sleeping together so it’s not really cheating.” Her smile is understanding, and I appreciate her attempt to placate my guilt. But she’s wrong. Last night was cheating. If anything, hearing it aloud only makes it more real. I slept with Cam when I promised Preston we wouldn’t see other people. No matter which way I cut it, or how good it felt in the moment, what I did was wrong.

“It’s cheating. We’ve already had the discussion about not seeing other people. We’re together. I’m sure you know what I mean since you’ve done the same with Chase.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, and she picks at her nails. “Do you really have to have that conversation to be considered exclusive?”

“Wait?” Hold the front door. “You and Chase haven’t discussed that yet?”

Her eyes widen. Shit. I glance away. I can’t pretend that isn’t alarming.

“Not in so many words.” Her voice is soft and full of trepidation. “But I trust him and we’re together together. I mean, you saw how he was with me last night, right?”

Now I feel even worse. She’s in a good place, and Chase was all over her last night. I don’t need to project my own guilt onto her budding relationship. “Hey, of course I saw.” I take her hand in mine and gently squeeze until she meets my gaze. “He’s totally into you. Had eyes for no one else.”

Callie’s smile brightens, and even though her mascara is smeared under her eyes, and her skin pale, she appears a thousand times better from my words. I make her promise not to tell Chase about my tryst with his brother, then tug her off the bed.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your car.” I sigh, checking the time on my cell again. I could cancel my date with Preston, but I won’t take the coward’s way out. I’d only see him at work tomorrow anyway. I have to deal with the consequences of my actions. I’d rather rip it off like a Band-Aid.

“I hope my phone is still at that apartment,” she says, locking her front door and then following me down the drive and into my car.

I could offer to text Cam for her, to see if anyone left a cell behind since that’s where he lives, but my pride refuses. He programmed his cell in my phone, and the only reason I can think he would do that is because he assumed I’d be back, begging for a round two. Ha! Fucking idiot. I don’t play needy girl games. Never have and never would.

A few minutes into the drive downtown to Alicia’s condo and it’s clear Callie’s feeling her hangover. I keep the music low, and take each turn with care. We don’t talk either, which is probably why the text alert from my phone sounds off like a bullhorn. Once. Then twice. Again and again. I give my phone a glance, but ignore the message. It’s probably Alicia. Has to be. I told Cam to stop and he did.

It pings again.

Callie rips the phone from the console before I can stop her.

“No! Don’t!”

“Jill!” My name leaves her mouth a screech and I just know. Her eyes are wide as they stare at the screen. “That’s Cameron!” She doesn’t look away, as if she’s stunned, and I don’t blame her. I was too the first time my eyes locked on that monster. “My boyfriend’s brother, Cameron!” She drops my phone into the console and clenches her eyes shut.

“I know! I know!”

“He just texted you a pic of his dick!”

“He’s been doing it all day! I swear, I asked him to stop at first, but it’s kinda hot,” I admit and sneak another glance at my phone. Oh. My. God. These photos have captions. My legs press together. “He’s a great sexter.”

“How am I supposed to act like I didn’t see that?”

That’s the exact question I’m asking myself. Right now I’m having a hard time remembering why I told him to stop. Or why I’m even going on this date later. Fuck. I shake my head. As Callie gets over what she just saw, I pull into the parking garage at Alicia’s condo expecting her car to be next to Callie’s where we left it last night. It’s not, a sign Alicia’s already been home and back out again. Party girl should’ve been a rock star. She could’ve at least texted me to let me know she’s alive.

Callie slides out of my car and I roll down the window, waiting for her to get in her Jeep before pulling away.

“Good luck finding your phone!”

“Thanks for the ride.” She lifts her hand in a wave. “Good luck with the BDC.”

I frown, not understanding, “What?”

“Big Dick Cam.” She laughs heartily for the first time all day. “You’ve got your hands full, quite literally, with that one.”

“Oh my God!” I shake my head, but my lips spread with a grin. “Pretend I never told you. Please!”

“Impossible. You saw the size of it!” She laughs again and shuts her door, the engine of her vehicle roaring to life behind me as I steer my car back home. I need to change. Hell, another shower wouldn’t hurt. Another text alert sounds and my body heats at the thought of what lies waiting in my inbox. No. I can’t think about what Cam’s packing. I have a date with Preston. I press my foot on the gas, anxious to get home. It chimes again, and my head fills with naughty images. Shit, the least I can do is mute my notifications. No more Cam. He’s off the menu. Tonight is Preston. Ping. My sex clenches. Fuck, at this point I need a cold shower just to make it through this damn date.

Chapter Five

Preston is nice. He’s pleasant. He wears the hell out of his dress shirt, and he smells good too. Still. I can’t stop thinking about Cam. Every little thing Preston does or says dims in comparison to Cam, which is completely unfair. They aren’t in a battle for my attention. There’s no competition. Preston is the man here with me, dating me, and patient as hell when I asked to take things slow. Cam is some guy I hooked up with. One hot night. That’s it.

Preston clears his throat, scooting closer in our booth after he hands our server his card. He paid for dinner, even when I offered to split it, and an extra dose of shame washes over me for thinking of someone else.

“Thank you.” I edge away from his body, needing a little space. “Everything was delicious.” I pick up my water and take a sip before meeting his gaze.

“Wanna come back to my place for a drink? Or we could watch a movie?” His gaze is hopeful.

“Uh.” It’s the time of judgment. My time to come clean. I either tell Preston what I did last night, or I break things off. There’s no way to have both. Not for me.

He reaches for my hand, stilling it from where I cling to my water glass. His fingers wrap around mine, and his gaze heats as he brings them to his lips. He presses a chaste kiss to the back of my hand and I can tell he’s holding back. Like he wants to devour my lips, or drag me back to his apartment. If I could let myself remember why I wanted normal with Preston, I might actually enjoy that. But it’s never gonna happen.

I don’t want Preston. Not because he’s a bad guy, or even that we work together, though that probably should be reason enough. No, it has everything to do with the man who sent me immature and inappropriate texts all day. The one who rocked my world last night. Fuck. Am I really that woman? The one who passes on a perfectly good man for another who’s probably a total player. Who is the total opposite of safe. Who I clearly can’t stop thinking about. “I’m sorry.”

“Maybe another night?” I hear the optimism in his voice. I see it in his unguarded gaze.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Because we work together? Because I already checked the HR manual, and it won’t be a problem. We’re in different departments, and I’m not your supervisor.”

I did the same. I don’t know why I thought I could date like a normal person. I’m not cut out for this. Even this conversation gives me hives. I hate hurting him, but the truth does that sometimes. “That’s not it.”

“There’s someone else?”

Yes. No. I’m not with Cam, and he’s not the only reason I’m ending things tonight. But I won’t deny being with Cam opened my eyes to how foolish I’ve been to think this thing with Preston could be more. That I could date him and not hurt anyone, because my heart won’t ever be fully invested. He doesn’t deserve that from a partner. I deserve more than a relationship void of mind-blowing sexual chemistry, too. “I’m sorry, Preston. It’s not you, it’s—”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to explain.” He holds up a hand, his smile tight and lacking his usual easy-going manner. “I’m glad you told me now, because I don’t want it to be weird at work. For either of us.”

There’s no malice or anger in his words, and for that I exhale in relief. Not that we really work together. I rarely see him but for the occasional run-in at the shared lunchroom since he’s in accounting. We wouldn’t have even started talking if it weren’t for the company-wide training for new hires a few months ago.

“Thank you. For not making it weird. And for these last few dates. You’re a good guy.” And he is a good guy. Respectful. Intelligent. Kind. Handsome, too. Safe. My heart never once raced when he called, or even when he pressed his lips to mine for a sweet kiss goodnight. Until last night with Cam, I thought I was the one in control. Now that I know how it could be . . . I can’t pretend to want safe. Maybe that makes me a complete idiot. It probably does. But one thing is perfectly clear: I should’ve stuck to the plan. No relationships. No commitments. No messy feelings, safe or otherwise.

“I can drive you home.” It’s considerate of him to offer.

“No, thanks, I’ll just grab an Uber.” I slide out of the booth and he follows. I take a step toward the restrooms while he heads toward the door. I wave good-bye, and dig my phone from my bag.

Preston offers another smile, but I sense it’s more forced than natural. He liked me. More than I felt for him, and for that I feel another sliver of guilt. I wish I could’ve returned his feelings. He’s the kind of man who’s looking for a true partnership. He doesn’t want kids. Doesn’t even believe in marriage. He’s the perfect candidate for someone like me. I all but pictured us spending weekends together, alternating apartments, going out for brunch and discussing politics. The fact my daydream never included hot, sweaty, orgasmic fucking should have been a warning sign. I wanted to use him for a companion, one I could keep at a distance.

As I wait for my Uber I thumb through my phone, bored and a little irritated at myself. My insecurities. My limitations. My lack of vulnerability. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve come so far that the countless hours of self-reflection and counseling have been worth it. And others, like tonight, prove I’m nowhere near healed in the way I want to be. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ll never be capable of more. Maybe I should stop trying so hard and accept myself.

What is it I really want?

My thumb hovers over the messenger icon on my phone. I shouldn’t. I really should leave well enough alone. Fuck it. What’s the worst that’ll happen? I shoot off a text before I change my mind.

Me: Hey, someone sent me a bunch of porn from this number. Thought you should know.

I don’t expect him to respond. His answer comes a few seconds later.

Cam the Man: It’s art. Not porn.

A laugh bursts from my lips.

Me: That’s what you’re calling it?

Cam the Man: Don’t tell me you’re one of those heathens who doesn’t appreciate a good flip book when she sees one.

Me: The flip trick to the illusion is lost when you send photos as texts

Cam the Man: Maybe you’re doing it wrong

Me: Maybe I need a man to help? Is that what you’re suggesting?

Cam the Man: If I’m the man, then yes.

Cam the Man: Rematch. I want to see you.

Me: I don’t do relationships.

Cam the Man: Cool. My place or yours?

Me: What part of “I don’t do relationships” did you miss?

Cam the Man: Nothing. I’m not looking for a girlfriend, but I do want to fuck you.

And there it is again. My entire body thrums with need; my heart beats in a way that reminds me I’m alive. It’s energizing. It’s exciting. But I shouldn’t respond. I especially shouldn’t take him up on his offer. I’m already jonesing for another rematch with Cam and his big dick. Once more would only complicate things. In my experience, complications in this matter usually lead to feelings, and that’s something I can’t do. My fumbling attempt—and fail for normal with Preston—is fresh in my mind as proof. Still . . .

What Cam and I had together was hot. Last night flits through my mind better than any flip book, and my body heats with the memories. One time, that was the deal. Those were my rules. He already wants to break them, which is a bad sign. Yet I want to break them, too.

Me: Maybe we need one more time.

Cam the Man: It was the dick pics. Wore you down.

Another laugh escapes my lips and for the first time since I can’t remember when, a lightness settles around my heart. He’s fun. I can do fun. I can change the rules as long as I’m the one who sets them.

Me: Good night, Cam.

Cam the Man: It’s happening. Soon. You name the time and place. My dick will be at the ready.

Me: Such the gentleman.

Cam the Man: You know it ;-)

Cam the Man: So when should I pencil you onto my dance card?

Me: You’re a dork.

Cam the Man: Busted.

Like a total idiot myself, I’m grinning as I read his latest response. I like the volley of our banter, the push and pull. I expected once we slept together he’d move on, or brush me off. Turns out Cam is nothing I expected, and the surprise is refreshing.

Cam the Man: Call just came in. Gotta run.

Me: Stay safe out there.

Cam the Man: I always do. Night, Jill. Dirty dreams.

Yeah, that won’t be a problem. Our night together left me with enough material to get myself off for months to come. Just think of how good it’ll be the next time? A thrill shoots up my spine, need pooling at my center. There are nerves too, a resistance to letting him into my fantasies or bed for more than one night, but I push them away. I deserve to be happy, and right now Cam and his generous throbbing member promise to bring me just that. I just can’t grow too attached to his flirty conversations, or the way his gaze eats me up, which should be simple. If there’s one thing I’m a pro at, it’s keeping people at a distance. I don’t care that he’s some big, tough, confident guy with a sense of humor and rugged good looks, the fortress guarding my heart is impenetrable to his charms. There’s no way I’ll fall for him. Or anyone. I know better than that.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this short and steamy prequel. Cam and Jill’s full story continues in Caught in the Lies, releasing October 3 and available for pre-order now!

Or begin with Callie’s story in Caught in the Flames, a complete standalone available now in ebook, audio, and print.

Join Kacey’s newsletter for exclusive content, new releases, and sales here, including a sneak peek at Caught in the Lies coming October 3!

Also by Kacey Shea

Sports Romance

The Perfect Comeback

Firefighters

Caught in the Flames

One Hot Night

Caught in the Lies

Caught in the Chase

Rock Stars

Detour

Derail

Hinder

Replay

Uncovering Love Series

Uncovering Love

Uncovering Desire

Uncovering Hope

Uncovering Love: The Wedding

About the Author

Kacey Shea is a USA Today bestselling author of steamy contemporary romance. She enjoys writing strong and smart heroines, heros with hearts of gold, and stories that deliver a satisfying, well-earned happily ever after.

When she's not writing you will find her playing Uber to one of her three children, drinking iced tea by the gallon, or planning her next escape from the Arizona heat.

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For more information
www.kaceysheabooks.com
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