He reached for a lock of her hair. “Who the fuck are you? Do you even know? The girl I knew wrote her own songs, had her own style. What happened to her?” He turned, heading back down the hall.
But he didn’t get to walk away on that note. “I’ll tell you exactly what happened to her.” God, she was shouting at him in a hallway. But she didn’t care. She was a ball of fury. “You happened to her. She trusted you with all her heart, and you betrayed her. How am I supposed to trust my own instincts anymore after what you did to me? I can’t. So, no, I don’t know who I am anymore, but I’m damn glad to have seen you in action, because I have a feeling my confidence is about to come roaring back.”
His long legs ate up the carpet, and within seconds he was standing in front of her, too close, too intense. His eyes burned with anger, determination…and yet…underneath all that, she could have sworn she saw helplessness.
“I was seventeen.” Intensity radiated off him. “I fucked up, but I was a kid. You have to let it go. You have to…you can’t…fuck.” He cupped her chin—and she felt the tremble in his fingers—and the fierceness in his gaze made her hot and restless and…and confused.
Because he might act like the cavalier playboy, but he felt like the boy she’d loved so completely.
Still watching her, he lowered his mouth, a tumult of emotion churning in his eyes. It all settled into a stark, desperate yearning that ripped through her body like a scream.
Because she knew what was coming.
One second later, he kissed her. Her heart kicked so hard it hurt. His mouth opened, as he licked inside, and he shifted closer. The heat of his body sank into her skin, and when his hands cupped her jaw, tilting her to deepen the kiss, she thought she would die.
Of pleasure and longing and…and…the sweetness of this moment, of finally closing the gap that had always existed between them.
Oh, God, she was just melting from his touch. The scent of him, the hunger in his kiss…everything just swirled around her, had her spinning, lifting, taking flight.
Until she remembered. This is Cassian. The careless playboy.
Kissing meant nothing to him.
She snapped out of it, tore her mouth away, and shoved him.
She wanted to burst into tears, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’d wrecked her.
“That will never happen again.”
Chapter Six
Cassian paced his hotel room, watching the recording his friend had just sent. But it was hard to pay attention when desire still rocked his body.
And fear. What had he done?
Why would you kiss her?
She hates you.
That kiss sure as hell didn’t taste like hate.
“You see it?” Dean’s voice came through the speaker on his phone.
His friend had gotten the hotel to release security footage of the entire scene at the pool—from the moment Amie jumped onto the diving board and started peeling off her bikini, to him leaping onto it and blocking her, and then to Dean handing him a towel, saying something quietly. “Yeah, I see it.”
“You don’t sound happy.”
Because I’m not. “No, it’s good. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The way Gigi saw him—it made his stomach sick. He didn’t prey on women, did he?
He flirted. He hooked up with women he met on the road. But neither of those could be considered preying. The whole point was to not hurt anyone.
“I sent it to Coach and Joan,” Dean said. “They’re going to release it. We need to show that you were being a good guy. That we were just partying as a team.”
“No, they can’t do that.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because, in the photograph, you can’t see that it’s Amie Clover. Here, you can. And I don’t want to jeopardize her job or her reputation.”
“Fine. We’ll blur her face, but you’re not going to get traded over shit like this.”
“Okay.” He brought the phone back to his ear. “Do you think I prey on women?”
Dean went quiet, and Cassian breathed a little easier. He could trust his friend to take his question seriously and give him a thoughtful answer.
“I’m going to need some context here, because I’ve never known you to lie or mislead anyone.”
“When I talk to a woman, am I nice? Or do I go into scoring mode?” He thought about the nurse, and how he’d talked to her. He hadn’t been thinking about getting laid. He thought he’d been putting her at ease.
“First of all, you’re allowed to have a sex life. It’s okay to hook up with women who’re looking for the same thing. That’s hardly preying on them. And I’m not sure you treat women any differently than you do other people. Don’t you turn on the charm when you talk to a reporter? A teammate? The person bagging your groceries?”
Relief loosened his shoulders. “Yeah. I do.”
“Yeah, so, it’s your personality. You’re a fun guy. People like you. A predator makes promises, manipulates…misleads. That’s not you.”
At the window, Cassian parted the curtains to look down at the pool. Underwater lights made it look a brilliant blue. At this late hour, he’d expected it to be empty. Instead, he saw two people.
Playing guitar.
Awareness shot through his body.
Gigi and Grant sat close together, strumming and singing.
“You want to tell me what got you thinking about this?” Dean asked.
He hadn’t told Dean about Gigi being on the tour, but he needed to talk before he stormed down there and fucked things up permanently.
Because they’re not already fucked up permanently?
She thinks I get off on hurting women.
And then I went and kissed her.
“Gigi’s here.”
“What—in your room?”
“No. On the tour.”
“Oh.” One word held a world of meaning. “That’s…”
“Yeah.”
“You talk to her?”
“We’ve been stripping off pieces of each other’s skin.”
Dean went quiet for a moment. “Well, cut it out. You’ve got seven days with her.”
“Six. I wasted today.” Actually, he’d made things worse.
“Doesn’t matter how many days you wasted. All that matters is what you do with what’s left. Let me ask you this, what’s the best outcome you can think of for this week with her?”
I want her back.
His world bottomed out. All the bravado, the whole fucking foundation he stood on, collapsed. Jesus, he felt the loss of her like a huge, gaping hole right in the center of his heart.
He ached for her.
Ached for the friendship that had made him full. Complete. Safe.
Raw and broken, Cassian pressed his forehead to the glass. Would he ever stop hating himself for what he’d done?
She’d obviously gone swimming, because her damp hair had begun to dry in its usual gentle waves. She was laughing, totally relaxed with this guy she’d just met.
He couldn’t have her back, so he at least wanted her forgiveness. “I want to fix what I did.”
“You never told me the specifics. Just that her dad asked you to back off so she could reach her potential or some shit.”