Page 16

Chapter 16: Luke

T he second the call ended, I regretted answering it.

“Taming her.” Those two words echoed in my head. I gripped the steering wheel harder, my knuckles white as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

That idiot. My boss didn’t know shit about Avery.

Now, because of that stupid call, she was freezing me out. I glanced at her. She was hurt.

And the worst part? I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

This whole thing had started as a business deal, but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake. For me at least. I didn’t want to let her slip through my fingers again like she did after Miami.

She wasn’t just another client. She wasn’t just a means to an end.

She was Avery. And now I had to fix this.

First, I am going to watch her dominate on the court, before, hopefully, I do the same to her tonight.

***

The sun was relentless, beating down on the stadium, but Avery was focused.

She was poetry in motion. The sharp crack of the ball against her racket echoed across the court, and the crowd responded with cheers, their energy electric.

This was her domain, her battlefield, and today she owned it.

I leaned forward in my seat; elbows braced on my knees as I watched her deliver another flawless serve. Her opponent scrambled to return it, barely keeping pace as Avery advanced on the net.

“Come on,” I murmured under my breath, gripping the edge of my seat.

Her opponent faltered, sending the ball just wide of the line. The umpire called it out, and the crowd erupted into applause. Avery didn’t smile or react. She simply turned and strode back to the baseline.

This was the Avery the world saw, but I knew the truth. The way she’d been in my arms, her body soft and warm, her gasps and moans echoing in my ears. She’d been vulnerable, open, so utterly herself—and now, watching her here, she was a completely different person.

Another rally began, the exchange fast and brutal. Avery’s movements were precise, her footwork flawless as she sent her opponent chasing down shots. The poor girl looked exhausted, her frustration evident in every rushed swing of her racket. Avery, on the other hand, was calm, her expression neutral.

The final game of the match was over in minutes, Avery’s dominance absolute.

She stood at the net, shaking hands with her opponent and the umpire before turning to acknowledge the crowd. The applause was deafening, a mix of cheers and whistles, and I saw more than a few people holding up signs with her name on them.

She gave a small wave, her smile polite but restrained, before heading toward the bench to grab her bag. I leaned back in my seat, watching as she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked off the court, her head held high.

She was back.

The Avery Blake the world had fallen in love with, the media darling who’d been written off after her meltdown, was back on top where she belonged.

And damn it, I was proud of her. Still, the knot of tension in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t supposed to fall for her, but watching her now, I knew it was already too late.

She was it for me.

Now I just had to convince her to believe it too.

The fundraiser tonight was my chance. Tonight, I was going to tell her. No holding back, no carefully crafted words. She needed to know how I felt, and I wasn’t leaving that party until I made her listen.

***

I was straightening my tie in the mirror, trying to push back the nerves that had no business being there, when I heard the click of her heels.

When I turned around, I froze.

Avery stood in the doorway, her dress a shimmering cascade of midnight blue that hugged every curve and fell to the floor. The neckline was low, just enough to tease, while the slit up the side revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her toned leg with every step she took.

Her hair was swept to one side, soft waves cascading over her shoulder, and her lips painted a deep, dangerous red, curved into the faintest of smiles.

“Wow,” I said.

She arched a brow, her smile turning wry. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Her voice was light, but there was something guarded in her expression, a flicker of something she was trying to hide.

It was my fault. I knew that. And I was going to make it right.

The car ride to the fundraiser was tense. Avery was distant, her gaze fixed on the window, her hands clasped in her lap. By the time we arrived, my frustration had reached a boiling point, but the cameras were waiting, and I couldn’t afford to let them see anything but the perfect image we’d created.

So, I played my part.

I opened her door, offered her my hand, and held her close as we walked into the venue. The cameras flashed and congratulated her on her win today as she stopped and we posed together. I gathered her in tighter to me. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into me either, her body stiff and unyielding.

It drove me insane.

As the night wore on, I found every excuse to touch her.

At first, she stiffened, her body language screaming resistance. But as the night went on, she started to relax, or maybe she just gave up fighting it.

Either way, I wasn’t stopping.

By the time we reached the dinner portion of the evening, I could feel the tension between us building to a breaking point.

She sat beside me at the long, elaborately set table, but when I let my hand drift under the table to rest on her thigh.

“Luke,” she hissed, her voice low as she turned her head slightly toward me, keeping her smile in place for the people across from us.

“Yes, Avery?” I murmured, leaning in just enough for my breath to brush her ear.

Her fingers curled into a fist on her lap, her nails digging into her palm. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

I let my thumb brush against her bare skin in defiance. “Why not?”

Her head turned toward me, her green eyes flashing with warning. “Because we’re in public,” she whispered sharply. “Or is this all part of taming me?”

“Dominate you? Yes. Tame? Fuck no.” I countered.

Her lips parted, a retort clearly on the tip of her tongue, but I didn’t give her the chance.

Before she could speak, I leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was anything but subtle.

Her gasp was muffled against my lips, her hands flying up to grip my jacket in surprise. I didn’t pull back or soften the kiss. I kissed her the way I’d wanted to all night—with possession.

The world around us faded. I didn’t care who was watching, and I didn’t care what headlines might come from this. All I cared about was her and the taste of her lips, the way her body melted against mine despite her protests. I wanted her to know she meant something to me.

When I finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, and her green eyes wide with a mixture of anger and lust.

I cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You told me not to touch you,” I said. “So I kissed you instead.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression torn between frustration and desire. “You can’t just do that.”

“I can,” I said simply, leaning closer until our foreheads almost touched. “And I will. Because I know you want it as much as I do.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, her fingers tightened in my jacket, her gaze flicking to my lips before snapping back to my eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” I murmured, my thumb brushing against her cheek before I pulled back slightly.

My hand found its way back to her thigh under the table, and this time, she didn’t push it away. By the time we left the ballroom, the tension between us was palpable.

As I guided her through the crowd, my hand resting possessively on her lower back, I leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“We’re not done, Avery,” I said. “Not even close. We need to talk about what happened last night and again today.”

She didn’t respond, but the way her body shivered against mine told me everything I needed to know.