Caught on Camera: A Spicy Fake Dating Romance (Love through a Lens Book 2)

WE’RE FINALLY BACK in the groove after the loss in Los Angeles last week.

I think the night at the farm helped. Everyone is in a better mood. Our offense is sharp, and Jett completes every pass. Our defense doesn’t miss a beat, and they sack the Knights’ quarterback eight times.

The whistle sounds, and I grin as our players run off the field. It feels like we’re unstoppable as we head into halftime with a twenty-eight-point lead.

“Nice work, everyone,” I say as the guys jog toward the tunnel. “Let’s come back stronger in the second half.”

They lift their hands toward the crowd in appreciation of their support, and the hometown fans give them a warm round of applause. Dallas stops beside me and he slings his arm around my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m admiring the view,” he says with a grin.

“Why are you being weird? You’re always the first one in the locker room so you can eat your bag of Skittles.”

“Maybe I found something I like more than Skittles.”

“I don’t care what you do with your personal time,” I say. “Just wrap it up, and don’t be a dick to her.”

“Ah, Coach.” He pats my chest and points toward the crowd. “You might care what I do with my personal time.”

“What are you—” I stop talking when I spot Lacey standing in the front row of seats, just like she always does. Except today she’s not wearing my jersey. She’s wearing Dallas’. “What the fuck?”

“She asked Darcy for one of my jerseys. I even signed it for her. Don’t tell me there’s already trouble in paradise?” Dallas asks, and I hear the smirk in his voice. “Can’t keep your lady satisfied, old man?”

“Get in the locker room,” I say through clenched teeth. “Before I bench you for the second half. Or the rest of the goddamn season.”

Dallas laughs and pulls away from me. “You got it, Coach. You don’t need to worry, though. It’s all fun and games. What’s life if you can’t laugh with the person you love, right? See ya back there.”

He disappears, and I rub my jaw. Lacey is turned to the side and talking to Maggie. She uses her hands to gesture animatedly about something, and I watch her for a minute. I notice the way she tips her head back and laughs. The long stretch of her neck, barely visible under her white turtleneck.

And that fucking jersey.

I want to rip it from her body. Tear it to shreds and leave it in a dozen pieces at her feet. I want to pull it off her with my teeth and make sure it’s my last name stretched across her back.

Fuck.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. Jealousy clouds my vision, and I flex my fingers in irritation.

Why do I care so much?

The guys have known Lacey for a while. At the farm the other night, they kept stealing her away to skate with them. To buy her an eggnog and to decorate cookies. They all love her, and it’s obvious why.

She treats them like they’re humans, not like they’re athletic gods she puts on a pedestal. She asks about their families, about where they went to college and what they’re doing for the holidays without an ulterior motive. When they talk, she genuinely listens and actively participates in the conversation.

She’s smart as hell, and while I know she supports the team, I like that it’s not her entire personality. I like that she has a kick-ass job and doesn’t spend all her time trying to be the players’ favorite person. She exists and they exist, and it’s the best of both worlds.

So why the fuck am I pissed she’s wearing a jersey that’s not mine?

I pull off my headset and jog toward the stands, waving to my friends as I approach them.

“Shawn,” Maggie yells from above me. “Great game so far.”

“Think the guys could score a couple more touchdowns?” Aiden asks. “Jett’s on my fantasy team, and I could use a bigger buffer.”

“I’ll get right on that,” I say, and I drag my eyes to Lacey. “Can you come down to the tunnel?”

“Sure.” She fiddles with her necklace and swallows. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is just fine.” I grin and hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll give security the okay. Meet me by the supply closet in three minutes.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and stride across the turf toward the tunnel. It’s going to take her longer to get there, but it’ll give me a minute to clear my head. To take a deep breath and think this through.

I need to think this through.

I nod toward the security guard waiting near the locker room, and I pace back and forth over the concrete floor.

Lacey wore that jersey to get a rise out of me. I know her; she’s playing a game. I don’t know what the end result is going to be, but she’s trying to push my buttons, and I hate that it’s working.

“Hey.” Lacey runs up and clutches her side. “Are you okay? Is it a panic attack? What can I do to help?”

That jealousy goes away. The roar in my chest settles, and I blink at her.

“No. It’s not that.” I pull her into a supply closet and close the door behind us. I turn on the small overhead light and stare at her. “Why are you wearing Dallas’ jersey when you’re supposed to be dating me?”

“Oh.” She laughs, but it’s feeble. Strangled and nervous, I think. “Um. I don’t have a Titans jersey. I thought I should get one.”

I hum and take a step closer to her. Her back connects with the shelving unit behind her, and the boxes on the shelves rattle. She watches me, but I don’t back down.

“Interesting. And this was a sudden change of heart?” I ask. “A spur-of-the-moment decision?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I’m just trying to be a supportive fan.”

“So it wasn’t to piss me off? To see how I’d react?” I put my hands on either side of her head and cage her in. “A way to get me to remind you that you’re mine?”

“Am I yours?” she asks. She reaches out and grabs my shirt, her gaze meeting mine. “I’m not sure that I am.”

My eyes bounces to her mouth. Fuck, I want those lips around my cock. I want to kiss her. I want to hear what kind of sounds she makes. I want to drop to my knees and bury my head and tongue between her legs. I need to walk away from her because I’m six seconds from acting on these lowered inhibitions, and that would get me in serious trouble.

I’m not allowed to want her, but I do anyway.

“Lacey,” I croak. My right hand curls into a fist, and it takes every ounce of self-control to pull away from her.

“Do it,” she whispers, and she lifts her chin in a dare. “I know you want to. I want you to, too.”

She’s taunting me, showing off something I can’t have when all I want is just a taste. The smallest bite, then I’ll be satisfied. I’ll be good. I won’t ask for anything else.

I grab her by the belt loops of her jeans. I tug her into my chest and cradle her cheek with my hand. I tilt her head back so I can look at her, and she’s smiling at me.

“You make it impossible to stay away,” I say.

“So don’t,” she says, and the challenge hangs heavy in the air between us.

“Fuck it,” I ground out, then I bend down and crash my mouth against hers.

It’s even better than the first time.

Lacey’s lips are soft, like little clouds I could curl up and fall asleep on. They’re warm, too, the cold from outside reaching every inch of her except for her mouth. My hand drops to her neck and I hold her there, my thumb at the hollow of her throat, so she can’t escape.

She moans, and I swallow the sound down. Hearing her want this, want me, makes me greedy. Selfish. Out of my mind with lust and need. I want her so fucking bad. I convey that through the press of my lips to her cheek. To just below her ear and the space underneath her turtleneck I find when I pull her collar down, on a desperate quest for more of her. My tongue runs up her throat and she makes a noise that’s so sexy, I want to get her to make it again.

“Shawn,” she whispers, and my name is a plea. She arches her back and wraps her arms around my neck, in no hurry to break our contact.

I scoop her up under her thighs and walk us backward until I find a solid wall. Her legs settle around my waist and her heels press into my lower back, a fire kindling at the base of my spine.

I’m hard as hell, and I don’t try to hide it from her. She must be able to tell because she rolls her hips and grinds into me in a way that makes me see stars. I lose myself in her for the quickest of seconds, thrusting up into her, over her jeans, like I could really make her mine.

Fuck, I was so wrong.

I’m nowhere close to being satisfied.

I need to be inside her. On top of her. Underneath her and at her mercy, so her pretty pink fingernails can leave little claw marks on my shoulders and bare chest.

My mouth finds hers again, and she kisses me so hard, I think I leave my body. Her hand trails down my chest and she reaches between us. She cups my length over my joggers, and I almost drop her.

“Lacey,” I groan.

I get caught up in the moment, and I pull that stupid fucking jersey over her head. I toss it behind me, and I don’t care if I never see it again. My palm sneaks up under her shirt, and I run my thumb along the underside of her breast.

“Please,” she says. “Touch me, Shawn.”

I can’t tell her no, can I?

I pull down the fabric of her fancy bra and I pinch her nipple between my thumb and pointer finger. “Hold your shirt up,” I say, and I don’t recognize my own voice.

I’ve never been this turned on before. Close to giving myself a few quick jerks in my pants just so I can finish at the sight of her in front of me.

She fumbles with her clothes and pulls the bottom of her shirt up under her chin. I can only see one side of her, but it’s fucking divine. She’s the perfect size, big enough to fit in my hand, and god damn, I want to come on her chest. On her face. Inside her tight pussy. I want to push her tits together and fuck my cock with them.

I lower my chin and swirl my tongue around her nipple, biting just hard enough for Lacey to hiss and grab the ends of my hair.

“Fuck, Shawn,” she says, low and soft in my ear.

“Look at you,” I say. I trace the bite marks I left on her fair skin. I twist her nipple until it’s swollen and pointed, and I grin. “So pretty.”

Her fingers dance across the outline of my cock, and I lurch forward. God, what I wouldn’t give to have her hand around me. To smear the lipstick on her fuckable mouth and make her eyes fill with tears while she choked on my dick. I want to fill her up until she can’t walk, until she can’t speak, until all she can do is thank me for making her feel good.

“Where the hell is he?” someone shouts from the other side of the door to the supply closet, and I freeze. “Halftime is over in two minutes.”

“He was just here,” another voice says.

“Shit,” I say. I pull Lacey’s bra back in place and make sure her shirt covers her stomach. I set her down on the ground and adjust my pants. “We need to go. I need to go.”

“Okay.” She nods and touches her mouth. “The game.”

“The game.”

“Should we—” she swallows, and her eyes drag down my body. She licks her lips when she sees the hard on I’m sporting, and color invades my cheeks at the satisfied twinkle in her eye. “Leave together?”

“You first.” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything other than Lacey naked or what it would feel like to bury myself inside her. “I need a minute.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay. Um. Alright. I’ll see you back out there,” she says softly, and I nod.

“Sounds good.”

“Shawn?”

I open my eyes when she says my name. She wrings her hands together and fixes her hair. I think she’s avoiding eye contact, because she’s looking at everything but me now.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“We’re—we’re okay, right?”

“Of course we’re okay, Lacey girl.” I kiss her forehead and squeeze her shoulder. “Just don’t even think about putting Dallas’ jersey back on. Next time, I’ll cut it off you.”

Lacey laughs and bobs her head. “Okay. Only your jersey from now on,” she says.

“Atta girl.” I tap her hip. “I’ll see you after the game.”

“Good luck in the second half, angel,” she says. “No. I hate that, too.”

“You’ll find something you like.” I wink and roll my shoulders back. “Cheer loud for us, Lace Face.”

“Always, Shawn Yawn.” She gives me one more look, then turns and heads for the door. She slips out into the tunnel, and I let out a breath.

I want to tell her to come back, but I know I can’t. This is a slippery slope we’ve stumbled down, and it’s all my fault.

I shouldn’t have kissed her again.

I shouldn’t have let her see how easily she affects me, but it’s too late now.

I got a taste, but now I want the whole fucking thing.