Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

Swoon. I purse my lips, and he presses his to mine. When he drops his head back, he looks up at me. With a little tip of my lips, I ask, “Why hadn’t you unpacked?”

He draws his lip between his teeth. “I sometimes feel like this isn’t real. Like it’s all going to be taken from me.”

“Why?”

“It’s too good to be true. I’ve wanted to play for the Nashville Assassins my whole life, and here I am. I rushed here, got started, and I’m worried that if I unpack, I’ll lose it all.”

“But you belong here.”

His eyes darken. “I’m starting to realize that.”

“Good, ’cause it’s true.”

He kisses the side of my mouth. “I think your mom scared me with her speech, and then after what happened in New York, I think I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Add in the fact that I have a real hard time staying away from you, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before I got canned.”

“I mean, I am irresistible, but I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He grins, his eyes flashing with desire. “No?”

“Nope. I’d take the fall and say you couldn’t resist me.”

“Oh, really?” he says with a cheeky grin.

“Yup,” I say proudly.

“I wouldn’t let you do that.”

“Why not?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

“Because I take responsibility for what I do.” He moves closer, pressing our noses together. “I want to try this. I want to promise that I’ll do it well, but I don’t think I can. I’m usually pretty confident in life, but you completely terrify me.”

I feel my face fill with color as I press my lips together. “I do?”

“Yeah. I can’t control how you make me feel.”

“Good. Welcome to my world. Been this way since I was eleven.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re Aiden Brooks.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Coolest guy ever. You wouldn’t have time for me. Plus, what would you have said? ‘Run along, Shelli. Go play with your dolls.’?”

When I laugh, he grins, a little bashful. “No, not at all.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, I remember a time when I was checking you out. You were like sixteen or something.”

“Yet, you wouldn’t talk to me. Or even look at me.”

He holds my gaze. “Maybe I knew you were dangerous even then?”

I cup his jaw. “You really do think you’re cute, don’t you?”

He laughs, but it stops when I press my lips to his. His arm comes up around my neck, holding me close, as his other hand grips one of my ass cheeks. I hold his face in my hands as our kiss deepens, and my heart nearly explodes in my chest. I pull back, running my fingers through his coarse hair as he gazes at me through his half-lidded eyes.

“I wish you had told me.”

I scoff. “No way.” I shake my head, the laughter bubbling in my throat. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna think I’m crazy, but I want to tell him. “There was this time, you had this amazing Willie Nelson shirt on. I was learning ‘Georgia on my Mind,’ and I wanted so bad to play it for you so you’d think I was cool too. I even begged my mom to buy me that shirt.”

“Which one?”

“It’s the one that says ‘Have a Willie Nice Day’ with him on it?”

He thinks for a minute and then rolls me over and gets up. He goes into his room, and when he comes back a few seconds later, he has it in his hands. “This one?”

“Shut up!” I exclaim, jumping up and walking to him. I stumble from the excitement to get to him and the shirt. “You still have it?”

“Hell yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s amazing!”

He holds it out to me. “Here, wear it.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, really,” he urges, and then he’s pulling off my jersey. “Wait, is this a Shea Adler jersey?”

“Yup, vintage. Circa his first season as an Assassin.”

“Nice.”

“For sure,” I say quickly as I lift my arms and then grab his shirt, covering the tank I had under my jersey. Of course, the shirt drowns me, but I don’t care. It smells like him. It’s super soft from being so old, and I swear, I can still see him in it.

When I look up at him, my eyes wide and my face warm, he’s grinning down at me. “Perfect fit.”

He pulls out his phone and holds it up for me to pose. I give him a cheeky grin with my arms up, and I feel every bit like I’m eleven again. That fluttering feeling in my gut. That overwhelming need to touch him, to talk to him and make him see how amazing I am. I don’t think I have to try so hard. I think he sees it now.