The Perfect Game (The Perfect Game 1)

I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. “I feel that way when I’m taking pictures. Anything that I’m not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What’s in it. What isn’t. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen. ”

He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “You get it. ”

“I like this side of you,” I said, genuinely meaning it.

He crossed his arms across his chest. “Don’t get used to it. ”

I jerked back at his suddenly defensive tone. “Way to ruin a perfectly good moment with your craptitude. ”

“Craptitude?” he mocked.

“Yeah. Your crappy attitude. ” I pulled my seat upright and reached for the door handle again.

“ Fuck Shit . I’m sorry, Kitten. Don’t hate me. I just really suck at this. ” His hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me back toward him.

“Suck at what?”

“This. ” His finger wagged between my face and his.

“What? Having a serious conversation? I know, it’s really hard. ” It was all I could do not to roll my eyes.

“I don’t really have serious conversations with girls,” he admitted reluctantly.

“That’s seriously pathetic, Jack. ”

“If I haven’t conveyed to you by now that I have a hard time trusting people—” he started to explain before I cut him off.

“I know you do. And you have every right. But you have to start somewhere. ” He breathed loudly and I finished, “Sooner or later you have to let people in. ”

And by “people,” I really meant me.

Shit.

He leaned toward me and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face. “I know,” he murmured, closing the small space between us even further.

He cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand and looked into my eyes. “I’m going to kiss you. ” My heart hammered inside my chest as thoughts of stopping him raced through my mind.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I stammered, my defenses fading.

“It changes everything. ” He sounded so sure of himself as his soft lips silenced my weak protest.

My eyes closed and I lost myself in the warmth of his kiss. His cinnamon-flavored tongue gently parted my lips as I allowed him to explore my mouth. He was gentle, the flicker of his tongue soft and slow, causing my heart to expand. His fingers tangled tenderly in the back of my hair, tugging lightly. I lifted my hand to the side of his face, my thumb tracing the lines of his cheek down to his chin before gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

My mouth was frantic, all sense of composure lost somewhere in the taste of him. He pulled away, our mouths parting with one final, closed-mouth peck.

“It changes everything,” he repeated, still cupping my face in his hand.

“Prove it. ”

SIX

JACK

Prove it were the two words she said to me before hopping out of my car and running through her apartment door that night. She didn’t trust people either. Or more to the point, she didn’t trust me. Cassie Andrews didn’t need rescuing, but I still wanted to save her.

She wanted me to prove that she was different from all the other girls I’d been with. Apparently she didn’t realize she already was. I asked her out on a date and I never ask girls out. Hooking up at a party or a club was one thing. That’s easy. I can do anything with a beer in my hand, or an audience watching.

But asking Cassie out in the daylight, dead sober, with no one around…that was something I’d never done before. She made me nervous as hell. I knew she wasn’t like other girls the moment I saw the disgusted look on her face after I called her “Kitten. ” Most girls would have creamed their pants if I called them that. But not Cassie. She looked like she wanted to punch me in the jaw.