“Jessie!” I growl.

She laughs, backing toward the bathroom. Sunlight filters in through a gap in the curtains on the other side of the room, glancing across her naked body. She wiggles her fingers, pausing at the door. “I have magic powers. Me, one. You, nothing.”

“I’m givin’ you one warnin’ here, sunshine. Run.”

She pouts her lips teasingly and brings her shoulder up to her chin.

“Three . . .”

Her pout moves to a grin.

“Two . . .”

She bites her thumbnail, still smiling around it.

“One!” I jump up from the bed and she screams, turning and running through the door. I’m quicker than her, but she still manages to get into the shower, turn the water on, and barricade the sliding door with her butt before I can get there.

“No!” she cries, laughing.

“Too late,” I reply, knocking on the door. “Open the door before I start countin’ spanks I owe you.”

She gasps. “Aidan!”

“What? You weren’t complainin’ last night.”

“Oh my God!” She stutters out a giggle, and I know her cheeks will be bright red.

“One spank.”

“Nope.”

“Two spanks.”

“Nuh-uh-ope.”

“Three spanks.”

“You sure are good at numbers,” she muses.

I didn’t want to do this, but . . . I push at the shower door once, hard, and she jumps forward. The gap is big enough for me to jam my shoulder in, so I do it, and she’s forced to step back and let me in.

She’s soaking wet, her hair no longer curled and messy, but straight and smooth against her shoulders. Her mascara has run beneath her eyes, and the dark shadows blemishing her skin only bring out the brightness of her eyes.

“Ads, please.” She laughs again, breathlessly, and holds her hands up.

I raise an eyebrow, sliding the door shut and trying not to sigh in relief as the hot water rolls over my aching body. “Please, what?”

“I won’t use it again. Your middle name,” she replies, water beads dripping down her stomach before disappearing between her legs.

I don’t believe her. And of course, she knows that. That’s why she’s still holding her hands up while her lie dances with the laughter in her eyes.

I curl my fingers around her wrists and pull her against me, directly under the spray of the water. She gasps, eyes closing as her mouth opens, as it beats against the top of her head and our bodies come together. “Liar,” I murmur, closing my eyes against the water, too. “You’re still laughing, and I have a huge erection from your little trick back there.”

“So?”

“So finish what you started.” I bite her bottom lip gently, and she shivers. “Right now.”

“You forgot how to ask again.”

I push her against the glass, pulling us out of the direct blasts of water. She opens her eyes when I release her hands and grasp her hips. “You wanted me to ask? I’m sorry. I assumed you naked in the shower was an invitation.”

“Asshole.”

Kissing her, I smile. “Absolutely. But I’m still gonna fuck you right here against the shower wall, so the sooner you be quiet, the sooner I can make you come again.”

“Presumptu— Oh!” she cries when I drop down and hike her legs up over my shoulders. She reaches out and slaps her hand against the wall, the other sliding through my hair.

“Unless you’re screaming my name or begging me for more, keep your pretty little mouth closed,” I murmur, my lips ghosting the top of her thigh.

I don’t know if she tries to reply, because I close my mouth over her clit and suck hard. She gasps, gripping my hair tightly as my tongue goes to work, tasting and teasing her wet pussy. She writhes against me, locking her ankles between my shoulder blades. She throws her head back as her body tightens and she comes, and I drop her legs only to stand and lift them once more.

She growls at me through her pleasure, but I reach under her and position the head of my hard cock against her. I swell at the contact, and in one quick thrust, I’m inside her, reminding her this isn’t over yet.

“Sweet God!” she breathes, grabbing at my back as I bury myself inside her completely. She angles her hips toward me, and I move, picking up speed and rhythm.

Fuck, fuck. She just feels so fucking right. I can feel her everywhere she isn’t even touching me, but when she scratches her fingers across my back, she leaves a blazing inferno of desire roaring across my skin.

She’s the ultimate fucking itch I’ve never been able to scratch. And never will.

She tightens around me, and I clench my teeth as I hold back, waiting for her to let go for a second time. For good measure, I slap my hand against her ass. She gasps as the sharp sound rings out, cutting through the steady pound of the shower, but she finishes on a moan.

And then, just like that, her body goes rigid, then she shudders out a cry so loud it forces me to join her in her ecstasy.

Then, fuck, I do, and it’s the best fucking feeling ever.

Jessie drops her head onto my shoulder and, still shaking, holds me tightly. I keep one hand on her ass to hold her up, but I wrap my other arm around the small of her back and hug her.

I have no idea how long I hold her up like this. I just know I feel every pound of her heart as if they were my own, and every deep breath she takes mirrors mine almost exactly.

I wonder if she feels the same way I do. . . . That our lie really is becoming a lie.

I pound my fists into the punching bag in front of me. One after the other, my attack is relentless, and Conner can barely hold it steady enough for me to continue.

I don’t care though. Don’t give a fuck that I’ve worked up such a sweat that my hair is glued to my forehead or that I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. I can still taste Jessie on my lips, and it could be my imagination, but I’d bet it isn’t. I fucking wish it were though. I wish everything about her was an imaginative lie or that someone could pinch the underside of my balls and I’d wake up from this craziness.

Every second I’m with her she amazes me. Every second I’m without her I crave her.

Right now I should be thinking about how we can believably end this sham of a relationship.

Instead, I’m thinking about everything I can do to make this sham relationship a real one. Because she’s no longer my lie. She’s no longer the girl I can toss aside for nothing.

I said I’d never put a girl I cared about through the shit our fans give, but I have, and I’d do it again every day if it meant I’d get to see her at the end of every day. That makes me so fucking selfish, but God—shit. I can’t help it. I don’t want to let her go any more than I want to see her break down in tears because the people that love Dirty B. hate her.

The sickest thing is that they’re my only two options. Let her go, or see her cry. What a fucking bastard this decision is, especially when neither option is okay. It’s literally shredding me to pieces inside because I know I have to make the choice.

Letting her go just seems impossible, and I really must be a bastard, because I’d rather see her cry, because then I’d get to kiss the tears away. Now, not seeing her, not touching her, not hearing that goddamn laugh . . .

That thought hurts. Not just a sting either. It’s a huge, slicing cut that may as well have me bleeding out.

I yell out as I slam my fist into the bag once more before falling against it and holding it. I breathe heavily, closing my eyes, letting the silence wrap around me.

Fuck.

I’ve fallen in love with my lie.

Jessie

The waves crawl up the sand slowly, touching the very tips of my toes before receding back into the sea. The white foam they leave behind coats my blue toenails, and I dig my toes in the wet sand before the water comes back up.