Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jessica’s Pov

“Mhmm…” I let out a soft moan, my fingers kneading my breasts as waves of pleasure rippled through me.

The rose vibrator hummed relentlessly against my clit, drawing stars across my vision, but in my fevered imagination, it wasn’t silicone–it was Aaron’s mouth, his tongue teasing me with a wicked precision only he could dream up.

Heavens, the thought of him, my roommate, my eternal crush, had me teetering on the edge.

“Yes,” I hissed, cranking up the speed, my hips bucking involuntarily.

I was so close, stars bursting behind my eyelids, when–damn it–the jingle of keys shattered the silence, followed by the unmistakable creak of the front door.

No. No, no, no. Not again. This was the second time this week he’d ruined my orgasm.

I flicked off the toy with a frustrated groan and shoved it under my pillow, my chest rising and falling like I’d just hauled up a flight of stairs.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, even though the room was cool from the slightly open window, and blasting air conditioner.

I froze, my eyes glued to the ceiling as I listened to his heavy footsteps thud closer.

Our bedroom door creaked open, and I slammed my eyes shut, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Please don’t smell it, I begged silently. The air was thick with my scent, musky and unapologetic. Could he? Guys were supposed to have that sixth sense, right?

And worse……what if he’d heard me moaning his name earlier? That would be mortifying.

“Quit faking it, Jess. I know you’re wide awake.” His voice rolled over me like dark honey, deep enough to drown in, vibrating through the quiet room and straight to my already throbbing pussy.

I stayed perfectly still, holding my breath, hoping he’d buy it and leave.

The silence dragged on, and I figured he’d given up, stalked off to the bathroom or the kitchen.

I cracked one eye open to peek, and there he was, his gorgeous face hovering inches from mine, those honey- brown eyes sparkling with an infuriating mix of mischief and mockery.

A squeak escaped me, half–yelp, half–laugh, and I slapped my palms over my burning cheeks.

“Jesus, Aaron! Personal space much?”

He chuckled, low and rough, pulling back just enough to loom instead of invade.

“Why are you still awake? I thought you had that big test tomorrow.” He straightened up, his tone casual, like he hadn’t just scared the life out of me.

I sat up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, trying to hide how flustered I was.

He turned away then, thank God, yanking off his jersey in one smooth pull.

Sweat glistened on his inked muscles, the tattoos flexing as he moved–dragons and symbols that told stories I was dying to trace with my fingers.

I heard my pussy purr, and I pressed my knees tight to prevent the juices from coating my bed. Down, girl. Not now.

I’ve been in love with Aaron Tyrone for what feels like forever.

It’s been my quiet curse since we were kids scraping knees in the neighborhood. He was the villain in my story back then–my next–door bully, the one everyone whispered about like he was cursed.

“Bad news,” they’d say, crossing the street to avoid him. But my bruised little heart? It latched on anyway, because it was the only attention I ever got from anyone.

At home, I was invisible. My dad poured all his love into my step–siblings, and my stepmom never missed a chance to remind me I was “bad luck” because Mom died giving birth to me. I was the shadow girl, overlooked and forgotten.

And yeah, Aaron was hot–even at twelve, with that jaw already cutting edges, dark hair flopping over his forehead until he’d shove it back, revealing those endless brown eyes that could pin you in place. Straight nose, lips made for sin–I’d replayed kissing them in a million stolen dreams.

He bullied me, sure, but he’d muscle in like a guard dog if anyone else tried: “Back off, she’s mine to mess with.” Toxic as hell. I knew it, I should have bolted. But that possessiveness? It hooked me deep, and damn if I didn’t crave the burn.

How we ended up roommates? Pure desperation. College dorms filled up before I could snag a spot, and apartments were insanely pricey.

Where was I supposed to get the cash? Dad? Puh–lease. I had no friends–thanks to my locked–away childhood that made Rapunzel look free–spirited, and sharing with a stranger sounded like a nightmare.

Aaron lived near campus, so I swallowed my pride and asked him for help. He grumbled, but he said yes. Turns out, under that mean streak, he’s not entirely heartless.

Living with him, though? Torture. Sleeping just feet away from temptation every night pushed me over the edge. I deflowered myself with toys just to cope, imagining it was him.

How do you sleep next to fire and not get scorched?

“And I’m invited because…?”

“Fiona and Eric will be there.” His voice flatlined, face a blank slate, but I caught the glimpse of an old wound reopening.

Ah. His ex and his cousin. Fiona cheated on him with Eric, shattering Aaron in ways he never admitted.

I never got what he saw in her–beyond her mean–girl vibe, she wasn’t even that pretty

Maybe it was her big, unhinged boobs. Or maybe he just liked the thrill of the chase. Or… right, her family’s money. But no, Aaron wasn’t that shallow. At least, I wanted to believe he wasn’t.

His family, the Tyrones were loaded, hockey royalty in the US, though Aaron bucked tradition by choosing basketball over the family sport.

That choice pissed off his stoic grandpa, creating this massive rift, but Aaron didn’t budge. He chased his dreams with that fierce determination I secretly admired.

“So, you up for it?” he asked, one perfect brow arched in challenge.

I swallowed, piecing it together. The fake girlfriend act.

“You want to use me as a rebound?” The words slipped out, laced with hurt I couldn’t hide.

He tilted his head, scanning me slow, like he was weighing my soul.

“Yeah. Just for the weekend.”

It felt like a knife twist in my chest, but I nodded anyway, forcing a smile. God, I wanted to grab his shirt, beg, Make it real–just once. But desperate girls get doors slammed, so I bit it back.

“Okay,” I whispered.

A smirk tugged his lips, and he reached out, ruffling my hair like I was his pesky little sister.

“Perfect. We’ll hit the stores tomorrow, I can’t have my ‘girl‘ rolling up in those tragic hoodies and sweats. Time for an upgrade.”

He turned and vanished into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and silent.

Why did loving him have to hurt so damn much?