RENT A HEART

EVE's POV

My twenty-fifth birthday was turning out to be nothing like I'd ever imagined. Never in my wildest dreams would I have celebrated it with a fake boyfriend who, ironically, was the perfect partner. He was a gentleman, thoughtful, witty, practically flawless. The kind of man every woman dreamed about.

It hadn't even been a week since we'd signed the contract, and he'd already done things that blew my expectations out of the water. I knew I was wading into dangerous territory with the way he was acting towards me, the way he looked at me. I had to constantly remind myself, and my traitorous heart, that this was just a contract. It wasn't real. It was all fake. Besides, I couldn't risk getting hurt over something that was never meant to be. And who was to say he felt anything at all?

Eve, get yourself together, young lady, I inwardly chided, catching my reflection in the glass window as we drove to the club. I needed to protect my heart, to maintain my distance, and stick to the plan.

"We're here," he announced, breaking through my thoughts.

As soon as we entered the dimly lit club, the bass thrumming through the floor, I spotted the bar and made a beeline for it. The flashing lights and press of bodies barely registered.

"A glass of tequila, please," I told the bartender, plastering on a casual smile. He seemed more than happy to oblige. I needed something strong to jolt my system, something to hopefully numb the flutter of butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach.

"A glass of scotch, please," His deep, masculine voice vibrated from right behind me. Shit. I'd already forgotten I was with him, lost in my own internal battle. The scent of his cologne, a subtle blend of spice and wood, washed over me, making it even harder to concentrate.

He settled onto the stool beside me, sipping his drink with a practiced grace that seemed to draw every female eye in the vicinity. Outrageously handsome was an understatement. The man was sculpted perfection.

"Another glass, please," I said to the bartender, who eagerly refilled my glass. The tequila burned a welcome path down my throat.

I felt Chris lean closer. Before I could react, his hands landed on either side of my chair, effectively trapping me. He lowered his head, his breath warm against my ear, and whispered, "That's your third glass in less than ten minutes."

He straightened slightly, his gaze intense. We were incredibly close, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. One slight shift from either of us, and our lips would collide. And God, his lips... I couldn't help but stare. It was definitely the alcohol talking, right?

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine care and concern. The sincerity in his eyes momentarily robbed me of speech.

I didn't know if it was the pounding music, the tequila, or the suffocating closeness, but my mind had gone completely blank. I could only feel, only react.

Finally, I managed to tear my gaze away from his face, but my eyes landed on someone I never expected to see again. Jeremy. My ex. It was too late to look away; he'd already seen me, his face registering a shock that mirrored my own. Even under the flickering club lights, I couldn't miss the surprise, the hint of something else... maybe regret?

"Here," I said, my voice sounding breathless, and thrust his jacket into his hands. A sudden wave of heat washed over me, fueled by a cocktail of emotions.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Let's dance," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the pulsating heart of the dance floor, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of Jeremy's gaze.

As if the DJ had somehow tuned into my frantic thoughts, he switched to an upbeat track, instantly electrifying the dance floor. I threw myself into the music, moving with the crowd, the infectious rhythm temporarily drowning out the unwelcome memories. Surprisingly, Chris was a natural on the dance floor too. For a few blissful minutes, I lost myself in the music and movement, the bitter taste of seeing my ex fading into the background.

But just when I thought I'd successfully banished him from my mind, I caught Jeremy's gaze boring into me. He was staring like a hawk sizing up its prey, his expression unreadable. I hated the way his presence still managed to unsettle me, to stir up emotions I thought I'd buried long ago.

I needed to do something, anything, to break the connection, to reclaim control. I could feel Chris's attention shifting, sensing the shift in my mood.

"Hey, is something wrong?" he shouted over the pulsing music, his hands gently gripping my shoulders, his eyes searching mine with concern.

"Kiss me," I blurted out.

The words hung in the air between us, as shocking to me as they probably were to him. It was only as the request left my lips that I realized how impulsive, how utterly ridiculous it sounded. But in that moment, it was the only distraction I could think of, the only way to break free from Jeremy's haunting gaze.

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering for a heartbeat as they brushed along my jawline. The simple touch sent a shiver down my spine.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my skin. "You know," he murmured, a hint of playful amusement in his voice, "I thought you'd never ask."

And then, he kissed me.

My breath hitched, a startled gasp escaping my lips as his mouth crashed against mine. It wasn't a gentle exploration, but a fiery explosion, a demanding claim that stole the air from my lungs.

The kiss was fierce, urgent, a declaration rather than a question. His lips moved over mine with a possessiveness that made me tremble, every nerve ending screaming to life. My hands, acting on instinct, reached up to clutch at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as our bodies molded together. The world narrowed to just the taste of him, the feel of his hands pressing against my back, the frantic rhythm of his breath mingling with mine.

I knew I was going to regret this, or maybe I wouldn't. Perhaps I'd blame it on the alcohol, on the intoxicating music, on the desperate need to escape. But in this moment, all rational thought had fled. I couldn't bring myself to stop, couldn't control the way my body was reacting to his every touch, to the raw hunger in his kiss.

The kiss lasted an eternity before he finally pulled away, leaving me gasping for air, my head spinning. We stared at each other, the air between us crackling with unspoken desire. The emotions swirling in his eyes were unreadable, a confusing mix of something intense and something guarded. And I had no idea what he was thinking.

What if he thinks I'm easy? What if I've ruined everything? We've only just started this fake relationship, Eve, what the hell were you thinking?

As I wrestled with my inner demons, I felt a warm hand gently tilt my face upward. His gaze locked onto mine, his eyes dark and intense.

"It was just a kiss..." he said, a slow smile curving his lips. "One that I absolutely enjoyed." His gaze lingered on my lips, and his thumb traced the delicate lines of my lower lip with a feather-light touch that sent shivers racing down my spine. At that instant, my mind went blank, and every instinct screamed at me to back away, to regain control.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" I finally managed to stammer, my voice a little breathless.

"Is it working?" he whispered, his smile widening, a smile that always did treacherous things to my heart.

"Stop," I chuckled, trying to sound lighthearted, and playfully moved his hand away from my cheek, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. He still wore that beautiful, knowing smile, as if he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

"Come on, let me take you home," Chris said, his voice low and steady, and took my hand, leading me away from the dance floor and towards the exit.

"Eve!" I heard someone shout my name, and a wave of dread crashed over me. I honestly regretted turning around, because the sight that greeted me threatened to ruin the entire night. It was Jeremy, weaving his way through the crowd towards us.

"Eve, hi," he said, his voice dripping with false charm as he finally reached us.

I just stared at him, a wave of anger and pain surging through me. Emotions I thought I'd long buried began clawing their way back to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me.

"What are the odds that I was going to see you the same day I came back into the country? You look really beautiful tonight," he rambled on, his eyes fixed on me with a possessive glint that sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine.

"Do you know him?" I heard Chris ask, his voice tight, a subtle tension radiating from him.

"I wish I didn't," I replied through gritted teeth. "Can you just take me home now, please?" I urged, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Chris readily agreed, his grip on my hand tightening protectively.

We were almost at the door when I felt someone grab my arm from behind. It was Jeremy, again.

"Let go of me. Now," I said, my voice laced with barely restrained fury. But he just smirked.

"Finally, you talk to me," he said cheekily, as if this was some sort of game. My patience, already stretched to its limit, snapped.

"You heard her. Let her go while I'm being nice," Chris said, his voice dangerously calm, devoid of any emotion whatsoever. It was the first time I'd seen him genuinely angry, and the effect was both unsettling and strangely thrilling.

"And what if I don't—" Jeremy started, still smirking, when Chris moved with lightning speed. In a blur of motion, he punched Jeremy square in the face. Jeremy crumpled to the ground, clutching his jaw, blood seeping between his fingers.

"Stay right there unless you want your nose broken too, like your jaw," Chris said, his voice still eerily calm, as if he were discussing the weather.

I was speechless, completely stunned by what had just happened. Had Chris just fought for me? No one had ever done anything like that for me before. A confusing mix of gratitude, shock, and a strange sense of protectiveness swirled within me.

"Let's go, love," he said, his voice softening as he turned back to me. He took my hand, his touch gentle despite the violence he'd just unleashed, and led me out of the club, leaving Jeremy writhing on the floor.

What a day I've had. Probably the best, and the craziest, birthday ever, I thought, a nervous giggle escaping my lips as we stepped out into the cool night air, leaving the chaos, and Jeremy, behind.