Playing by Heart

An enemies-to-lovers romance where opposites not only attract, they ignite.

Playing by Heart

Release Date: 11.27.18

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Jesse Lee is the worst!

He’s a multi-millionaire, triple-platinum-selling, Grammy-Award-winning man-slut—a worldly, self-indulgent heathen. I wouldn’t sleep with him if he were our last chance to ensure survival of the human race. The only reason I put up with him is because he’s my boss’s brother.

Whatsherface is one of those holier-than-thou types.

She’s bossy, has a horrific singing voice, and she’s so ordinary, she practically blends in with the eggshell-colored walls—the complete opposite of anyone I’d bang. The only reason I put up with her is because my career is on the line.

Jingle My Bells

A Christmas short


“You’re having your bachelor party tonight. The day before Christmas.”?

My spoonful of oatmeal freezes mid-trek to my mouth.

Bethany repeated what I just told her, her voice strung tightly the way it does when she’s irritated but thinks she’s playing it cool.

Not good.

My gaze darts across the kitchen island to catch her tug at her earlobe as if doing so would make what I had said sound better. Her eyebrows pinch ever so slightly together.

Can she get any fucking cuter?

“Yes.” I return the spoon to the bowl, cross my arms at my chest and settle back in my seat. “That’s what I said.”

“Hm…” Her palms brace on our newly remodeled granite countertop and I’m reminded of how those hands were in a similar position last night when I came up behind her, slid her panties to the floor and slipped inside her. “So what you’re saying is you’re having your bachelor party on Christmas Eve.”


“Right.” She drums her fingers and looks up at the ceiling as if it’s feeding her lines. “I feel like I’m missing something here. What you’re telling me is—”

“What are you upset about?”

Her jaw drops open. “I am not upset.”

“Hm.” I tilt my head and study her reddening cheeks. My need for her is insatiable, even when—especially when—she’s pissed at me. I circle the island with every intention of coming up behind her, but her memory of last night must be as fresh as mine because she whirls around and faces me head on. I smirk at her attempt to shut me down. “I’ll get in there just as easily from the front as I do from behind, sweetheart.”

Her blush darkens and she smiles while making a futile attempt to swat my hands from her hips. “I’m serious.”

“And you think I’m not?” Running my hands up her sides I lift her little sundress exposing her thighs and cotton-underwear-covered pussy. “You keep wearing these easy access dresses.” I cup her between her legs and she melts against my chest. “You want me to stop?”

“No, but you can’t avoid difficult conversations by using sex.”

Shit. My hand stills, I move it back to her hips, drop her dress, and peer down at her pouting lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I push a lock of her chestnut hair off her forehead and cup her jaw, pressing a firm, closed mouth kiss to her lips that I’ve come to know so well they feel as familiar as my own. “Tell me what’s got you worried so I can fix it.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought we’d be spending Christmas Eve together, but instead you’ll be in some VIP room at a Hollywood nightclub with women throwing themselves—”

I press my index finger to her lips to cover her snarling teeth and try not to laugh. “First off, I don’t drink so you know the nightclub scene bores the shit out of me. I’d rather shave my balls with a rusty, dull knife than go to a club.” Her nose wrinkles and I continue. “Second, you are so fucking hot when you’re jealous.” I grin when she rolls her eyes. “And third, we’re getting married on New Years Eve, babe. We leave to promote the new album in New York in three days, and Ben will already be here. Oh, and fourth, Ben is throwing it. You seriously think Pastor Langley is going to plan a night of debauchery and mayhem? I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up at a bowling alley eating chicken wings and listening to bad Christmas music all night.” I release her lips only to watch as she tucks them between her teeth and chews. “Stop.” I pop them free with my thumb and nip at them gently. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I see what you’re saying, just promise me you won’t be out too late.” She fists her hands into the front of my t-shirt and pulls me so close I have to brace my hand on the countertop behind her to keep from falling over her. She blinks up at me with those seductive brown eyes. “I had something special planned for you, an early Christmas present.”

My dick perks up immediately at her unspoken but most definitely implied promise. “I got something for you too.”

“You do?”

“Yep, it’s right here. You’ll have to reach in my pants and grab it—”

“Jes,” she growls, playfully scolding me.

“Why do I have to wait until tonight?” I slip my hand through her hair, pulling her ponytail loose, and tighten my hold. “I don’t have anywhere to be.” My voice is rough with desire, gravelly in my own ears.

No woman has ever managed to affect me like Bethany.

A whisper of a promise to get inside her and my blood pumps red hot, my skin tingles with anticipation, my fingers itch to caress every inch of her skin, and my mouth burns to mark her, claim her over and over again as mine.

She pushes up on her toes and kisses me, opening her lips to let me in and take what I need, as much as I need, which is every-fucking-thing. All too soon she rips her mouth away and leaves me panting and painfully hard.

“Just make sure you’re home before I fall asleep.” She wiggles out from where I have her pinned to the island.

“Bethany.” There’s warning in my voice, but she laughs and walks proudly away. “God dammit—”

“Don’t you dare, Jesiah Langley!” She yells from the other room. “No blasphemy in my house, and especially so close to Jesus’ birthday!”

I grit my teeth and chuckle—the crazed with denied sex kind of laughter—and breathe through the stomach cramps only a mean case of blue balls can bring.

“I love you!” I yell back just before leaning on both of my elbows and taking deeper breaths.

“I love you too!”


My manager Dave, and band mates Ryder, Chris and Ethan rounded out our ragtag team of bachelor partiers—all of them except for my brother and me are hammered drunk on expensive tequila. Surprisingly, I’m not tempted by the booze in the least because my head is on my end game and my eyes are on the clock as I countdown the minutes until I get to go home to my gorgeous fiancé and whatever naked surprise she has waiting for me.

After a fantastic meal at La Reve in Malibu, we’re ushered out by security to our waiting limo through a crowd of paparazzi and fans. Against Dave’s instructions, I stop for a few photos and sign a handful of autographs before my brother shoves me along saying we have to go or we’ll be late.


Bethany’s words pound through my mind, her promise for when I return home.

No. I have to make sure I’m NOT late.

“Where to next?” I glance at my phone for the six millionth time tonight earning a glare from Ryder.

“You are the world’s worst bachelor,” he says while sipping on a cold beer.

Ethan rolls the window down, hangs halfway out the car, and yells, “Rock ‘n fucking roll!”

The fans erupt in cheers and screams while Dave groans and mumbles, “That’ll be fun to see on TMZ.”

The guys argue back and forth about whether John Lennon or Paul McCartney had a more successful solo career and Dave and Ben talk about which team they think will win the Super Bowl. Finally we pull up to a small and unknown comedy club.

I stare at the beat up marquis sign that is missing a few light bulbs.

Ryder shoves past me to the limo door. “Ben said no strippers or donkey shows, this was the next best thing.”

“Donkey? Gross.” I follow him out of the car.

The place is dark and smells like liquor. There’s a cluster of tables close to the stage with a folded Reserved sign on top. We take our seats, and Ryder orders a bottle of champagne for the table and a Pellegrino for Ben and me.

I look around and see about a dozen faces and none of them seem to recognize me or if they do they don’t seem all that impressed.

Shortly after we receive our drinks, a guy in a suit comes out on stage and announces they’ll be pre-show entertainment for tonight only. I sit back, check my phone, and vow to snag an Uber home if the show is longer than an hour.

I understand bachelor parties are a right of passage or some shit, but I’ve had my entire life to do that kind of crap and now that I found the woman I love and have devoted the rest of my existence to, she’s who I want to be with. I could be getting my dick sucked right now and instead I’m here at a damn sausage party.

Ben nudges me. “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I swear I just saw Ashleigh peek out from behind the curtains.”

I stare openly at my brother. “Fuck, bro. You got it bad for that girl.”

He looks bored. “I do not. I’m serious, I just saw her—”

The opening tune to Winter Wonderland pours from the speakers and it takes my mind a second to catch up because Christmas music and comedy? The curtains are thrown open to reveal a woman. Not Ashleigh like Ben thought, but—

“Holy fuck,” I mumble as my eyes widen on a very familiar almost-naked female body.

Not just any female. My female.

“Bethany?” I say and hear my brother groan and from the corner of my eye I see him drop his chin to stare at the floor.

Her long brown hair is straight and sleek and falls in panels over her tits that are pushed up to her neck in a fluffy fur corset that laces up from the front. Her legs look even longer than usual in white stockings that snap to a lace garter belt and even though her panties are conservatively cut, they hug her ass and pussy so perfectly every guy in this place is getting an idea of how perfect she looks underneath. Her high-heels click as she moves seductively on the stage, her hips roll with each step, and the white fur hat on her head does nothing to mute her sex appeal.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee.” Her voice rings through the mic and snaps me back to reality.

This isn’t a dream. We aren’t alone in our bedroom. This is really happening. My woman. My Bethany. On stage. Nearly naked. In front of a lot of fucking people.

“Hot damn, I had no idea what was hiding under those cute dresses she—”

I shove Ethan so hard he has to jump from his chair to keep from falling off it. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll rip your tongue out.”

The asshole laughs and the rest of the table joins in.

“Real fucking funny, you fucking ballsacks.” I glare at my brother who still has his eyes firmly planted on the floor. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, Jes. I got my kid’s nanny, a member of my church congregation, to dress like some naughty naked snow angel for your entertainment.” He holds a hand up to block his view. “I can’t even look because I won’t be able to unsee it.”

I fix my gaze on Bethany as she moves around the stage talking to the crowd. I’m not 100% sure what all she’s saying, I only catch a few things like “my fiancé” and “bachelor party” and “special musical treat”.

“Oh no,” I say and lean closer to Ryder. “She’s not gonna—”

“Oh yeah,” he says with humor in his voice. “She absolutely is.”

Bethany’s mouth opens and sure enough, the first few words of Winter Wonderland come grating from her lips. I lean forward onto the table, focusing on the way she moves her hips as the sound of a dozen humpback whales during mating season comes pouring from her mouth.

“Holy shit, that’s bad,” Ryder says, his eyes fixed affectionately on her even though I know his ears are bleeding.

“She’s incredible,” I say, earning a scowl from Chris and a chuckle from Dave.

“She’s one of a kind, that’s for sure,” Dave says, cringing at Bethany’s screeched high note.

She’s fucking beautiful.

I stand up and hold out my hand. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She wags a sexy finger at me and continues to serenade the room.

I turn toward the small crowd. “It’s my bachelor party! I think I deserve a lap dance!”

The place explodes with more applause than I would’ve thought possible and they all chant for my lap dance. Ryder snags a chair and puts it on the stage and I hop up there and take the seat of honor.

Bethany’s laughter comes through the speakers and she walks around to settle between my knees. She pulls the mic away from her lips. “You’re not really going to make me do this, are you? It’s crazy!”

“Says my woman who’s looking fuckable on stage and killin’ everyone’s ear drums.”

She laughs and kisses me softly.

“Now, come sit on my dick.”

“Jes,” she hisses.

I smirk and nod toward my crotch. “Jingle my Bells, baby. And whatever you do don’t stop singing, the crowd loves it.”

“Liar.” With the mic back to her lips, she straddles my thighs and sings, “Later on, we’ll perspire, as we dream, by the fire. To face un—

I’m already shaking my head. “Did you say perspire?”

She shrugs bare shoulders and smirks. “It’s hot by the fire. Surely people are sweating.”

I want to argue with her, prove to her that once again she’s fucking up a song, but her open legs are distracting and I want her tits in my mouth. I grip her ass and slide her forward.

The crowd erupts in cheers of encouragement and I blink out of my Bethany-induced haze. In the past, I wouldn’t have thought twice about exposing a woman in public as long as she was aware and equally game.

But this is my Bethany.

Her body is for me and my eyes only.

I pull her down and hover my lips at her ear. “I want to fuck you.”

She melts into my chest and male pride swells behind my ribs. “Then take me home.”

I scoop her into my arms, her legs wrap around my hips and she rubs herself against me, coaxing a groan from my throat. “You keep that up we won’t make it to the limo.”

“Oh!” Her eyes glaze over with lust. “The limo…”

I get us off the stage, through the cheering crowd, and out the front door to the waiting limo in record time. I lay her on her back and crawl between her legs. “Merry Christmas to me.”

She cups my jaw and runs her thumb lovingly across my cheek. “Merry Christmas to us.”

To see where it all begins, read Playing by Heart, available now on Amazon and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!