Page 68 of Kiss Me Tonight

A private access that links with Levi’s halfway down to the beach.

Bottle perched on my knee, I ask, “You ever regret going on the show?”

For a beat, Nick’s silent. Then, “Are you asking me if I regret losing my anonymity?” A small, minute pause that seems to stretch for far too long. “Or are you askin’ if I regret Savannah Rose?”

We both know Nick wasn’t feeling Savannah. Oh, he tried his best to make it work—but when he confided in me that they mutually decided to skip the overnight date, there was no denying that the passion wasn’t there for them.

Hadn’t been that way for me and Savannah.

I’d liked kissing her. More specifically, I’d liked the way she made me feel: like I, as a person, was more interesting than the money in my bank account and the football accolades attached to my name. With her, I felt . . . special. Here was this beauty out of New Orleans—a woman whose family is wealthy and influential—looking at me—a poor kid out of Cali who spent five years in and out of juvie by the time I was sixteen—like I had something worthy to offer her.

Except I wasn’t worthy at all.

Because the producers had paid me to come on the show as a contestant and I never once turned down the six-figure check. Because my own boss had suggested I go onPut A Ring On Itto help increase views for Sports 24/7 and I never once told him to fuck off, that saying yes meant I could fuck up someone else’s life.

Bad Boy Dom.

The moniker is laughable.

The media—theworld—has no clue how bad I am. Down to my core. Down even further to the rot in my veins that bleeds not red but black sludge, infecting everyone and everything.

So, yeah, I went on that overnight date with Savannah. I kissed her and reveled in the revelatory sensation of being with a woman who cared aboutme, and I forgot all about the dollar signs and the ratings and the freebie commercial runs thePut A Ring On Itproducers guaranteed Sports 24/7 every Wednesday night when new episodes would air.

Savannah stopped me just as I went to remove her pants.

Her hand on my shoulder, her fingers curled in a fist like she wasn’t even sure she wanted to be touching me. And then it all went to shit—she’d overheard the producers talking aboutmeand how surprised they were that I lasted as long as I did, and how great a liar I must be to keep all my dirty secrets under wraps.

She wanted me to leave, and I did, knowing full well that I had damned myself the moment I signed the NDA form and agreed to the terms of my casting.

Two days later, Savannah Rose dumped me when I asked her to take a chance—a real chance—on me. A month after that, I found myself standing on her front stoop with an apology already formed on my tongue.

I didn’t ask her to change her mind about our relationship. Hell, I didn’t even spend more than ten minutes inside her home before I was back in my rental car and driving to the closest ramshackle bar I could find.

Good guys with golden hearts like Nick deserve women like Savannah Rose.

Not guys like me.

“Savannah,” I finally murmur, lifting my gaze so I can see Nick’s face on the screen. “You regret her?”

Even though we’re hundreds of miles apart, him in Boston, me here in London, I feel the weight of my best friend’s stare. Like always, he looks like he’s trying to work out a puzzle. Trying to figure me out.

“I can’t regret her,” he tells me, hammer resting against one shoulder. “If it weren’t for her then I’d have no idea that Mina is everything I ever wanted or that she’s the woman I want to marry and wake up to forever.”

I nearly chuck my water bottle at the iPad. “Jesus fuck,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as envy cuts through my system, “you know how disgusting the two of you are? Women get pregnant just by looking at you together.”

Nick whistles. “That’s a skill I’d like to add to my resume. Mina’s gonna be pleased.”

“As opposed to what? Being annoyed by your very presence? Tell her I can commiserate fully with that.”

“She loves me.”

“So you both keep telling me.”

“Asshole.” He throws his head back with a laugh. “I swear, between the two of you I’m surprised I’m not bleeding from all the verbal jabs.”

“What can I say?” My shoulders hike up in a casual shrug. “We have a common target—you.”

“In other words, you both love to fuck with me.”

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