In the grasp, p.11
In the Grasp, page 11
“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping track, you know? I’ve followed your career.”
Shock floods my face. He’s been keeping tabs on me?
He continues, “I’ve probably read a majority of the articles you’ve published. If it was online, I read it. You’re really good.” He furtively glances in my direction, a blush forming on his cheeks. I find it endearing, and my shock turns to relief knowing that he looked into me as much as I looked into him.
“I especially liked when you covered that football game at San Francisco University two years ago. It reminded me of when you’d talk about my games with me,” he says.
I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you remember an article from so long ago.”
“I remember a lot of things from further back than that.” The look he gives me is heated with desire, and I can feel the goosebumps spread across my suddenly flushed skin. Before I can respond, he parks in front of a tiny restaurant called Olive Oil. The ambiance in the restaurant is modern romance with votive candles in the center of each table and soft overhead lighting, but the rest is all modern décor that is surprisingly comfortable.
We’re seated at a table tucked in the back corner. Jack’s fame comes with certain perks since our table offers the perfect amount of privacy to ensure eager fans won’t interrupt us while we eat.
Our waitress hands us menus and walks away to get us some waters and our beverages—whiskey for Jack, red wine for me. We both pick up our menus to look at the selection, but my gaze wanders up and over to glance at Jack. I can see the definition of his pecs through his snug shirt.
God, seriously, why does he have to be so sexy?
“I’m gonna need you to stop looking at me like that.”
My eyes shoot up to his face, and it’s clear he’s fighting a smirk.
My cheeks heat as I blush. Damn, he caught me ogling him. “Sorry,” I mumble and move my gaze back to my menu.
“Paige.”
“Hmm?” I murmur, my eyes glued to my paper in front of me, although I have no idea what I’m actually reading right now because I’m still picturing Jack’s toned chest and the heated desire I saw in his eyes.
“Paige. Look at me,” he demands.
I sigh and then look up. The second our eyes meet, it’s like the temperature in the restaurant skyrockets. When did it become a hundred degrees in here?
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Damn, he caught the blush. I was hoping the restaurant lighting would hide it.
“But if you keep looking at me like you are now, all I’m going to want to eat is you.”
My jaw drops at the implication.
Oh, yes, please, my body begs.
Have I mentioned it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex? Jack sitting there looking fucking drool-worthy is any sane woman’s fantasy. I’d be crazy not to respond to his boldness.
I clear my throat, trying to cover up my ridiculous reaction to him. When he smiles knowingly—the cocky bastard— I realize I am not playing this smooth and sophisticated at all. I shake my head at him, and he laughs, picking up his menu and continuing to peruse the options.
The intensity between us grows as we look over our menus, glancing at each other every so often. By the time the waitress has taken our order, the air feels thick from the tension flowing between us.
Jack takes a smooth sip of his whiskey on the rocks and then leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “So, how long have you been in LA?”
This is good. A topic that isn’t sex-related. “Just a couple of weeks actually. I recently got hired at the LA Chronicle, which you already know.”
He shrugs unapologetically. I wasn’t even surprised that he found out where I worked after that first press conference. His fame comes with connections, one of those being the ability to find information. But it just confirms that he could’ve found me sooner if he really wanted to. That thought sedates the desire pumping through my blood. I break eye contact and shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Jack must be able to tell that something has changed because he gives me a curious look that quickly morphs to determination. “What made you want to be a journalist?”
“I took a class in high school and really enjoyed it.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t remember that.”
I shift again in my chair. “It was after we broke up.”
“Oh.” He drops his gaze to the table, and I’d pay a million dollars to know what he’s thinking right now. When he lifts his eyes, the resolve in them pierces me straight in the heart.
“I’m determined to make this work, Paige. I know there are going to be things that come up that make us both uncomfortable. I know our breakup is still a sore spot for you just like it is for me, but I also don’t want our past to hold us back. There’s still something between us. I know you can feel it.”
I take a sip of my wine to clear my throat before responding. “You’re right.”
“I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to fix them. So ask whatever you want.”
I know he’s opening the door for me to ask about our relationship but I’m not quite ready for that yet. “Why do you refuse to give personal interviews to the press?”
He sits back in his chair, disappointment coating his features. “Are you asking as a reporter or as my date?”
“Is there a difference?”
“You know there is.”
He’s right, I do. If I’m asking as a reporter, then that means this won’t go anywhere, and whatever we’ve just restarted will come to an abrupt end. I’ll have made my intentions clear. If I’m asking as his date, then it means I’m open to us really having a second chance to make things work. It means my job is no longer the priority.
Am I asking as a reporter or his date?
My job was the last thing on my mind as I got ready to see him tonight. I just wanted to see him after a week apart. Whether he knows it or not, I made my choice the moment I kissed him.
He’s watching me cautiously, nerves written clearly on his face. “Paige?”
“I’m here as your date,” I whisper, my eyes pleading with him. Don’t make me regret this.
His shoulders sag in relief, and he nods his head once before replying to my earlier question. “I was never a huge fan of media digging into my personal life. Then I got burned by my girlfriend junior year of college, and that pretty much solidified my resolve to never give the media anything unless it’s related to football.”
I rack my brain for what he could be referring to with his ex. I did massive research on him before going to that first game. I never found anything from his college days.
“What happened with your girlfriend?”
He takes another sip of his whiskey. “I caught her fucking my teammate the night before our championship game in the Lemon Cup.”
I inhale sharply. I definitely would’ve remembered a story like that. “I never saw or heard anything about that.” I don’t tell him that I’m referring to my recent research. I remember seeing posts on social media of him with some blonde his junior year of college. I didn’t look into him for over a year after that. When I did finally read his social media accounts again, I didn’t see anything about a cheating scandal.
“It was big news for about three months, but then other scandals happened, and my dad helped bury anything that was still out there.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell that experience affected him immensely. Jack’s always been insanely loyal. I can’t imagine how much that hurt to have her cheat on him.
“I’m so sorry you went through that. Nobody deserves to be cheated on.”
He brushes off my sympathy. “It sucked, but honestly, we should’ve broken up months before. We weren’t right for each other.”
I nod my head. I can relate to that.
“How about you?” he asks.
“How about me, what?”
“Any exes who screwed you over?”
I give him a hard look, and his face blanches as he registers the words that just came out of his mouth.
“Uh, I mean, besides me, I guess,” he mumbles awkwardly.
“I haven’t had the best of luck with the men I’ve dated,” I respond honestly.
“Me either,” he says. “But I know the reason why none of my relationships ever worked.”
I look at him curiously. “Why?”
His penetrating gaze is fierce as he responds heavily, “None of them were you.”
My breathing becomes shallow as I watch his face, searching for any clue that he might be joking, but his expression holds nothing but open honesty.
The waitress breaks the spell when she shows up with our food. The rest of the meal is spent talking about lighter topics. I’m stuffed by the time I finish my meal, but more than that, my heart feels fuller than it has in a very long time.
By the time he drops me off at my car, the only thing holding me back from fully embracing the chemistry that zings between us is the fact that I still have this article assignment hanging over my head. I don’t want to tell Jack about how hard my editor is pushing me to write a piece on him. Honestly, I don’t want to tell him about the article at all. We’re getting along, but it still feels fragile. I can’t ruin this second chance.
I get out of his SUV, preparing myself to say goodbye, even though I really wish the night didn’t have to end. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the crazy sexual tension, it felt really good to just be with him again.
It felt like coming home.
He meets me at my door and cups my cheek with his large, calloused palm, the warmth from his hand feeling like heaven. He leans down to kiss me, but this isn’t a chaste kiss like I was expecting. The moment our lips meet, passion explodes within me. I grip his hair, moan into his mouth, and give in to everything I’m feeling. All the longing, the desire, the confusion, and the fear that he’ll break my heart again. I let it all go in that kiss, and he takes it all, his own mouth eagerly molding with mine. I don’t know how long we stand there passionately kissing before he reluctantly pulls his lips from mine.
“God, Paige, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against mine.
“Ditto,” I whisper back.
He smiles before placing one more quick kiss on my lips and then opening my car door for me. I wave to Jack as I pull away from him, my heart beating profusely and my mind made up. I need to talk to Vince. For the first time ever, I’m putting my career second.
When I get home and see that Jack has already texted me asking when he can see me next, I know I’m making the right decision.
Now I just need to talk to Vince.
TWENTY-FOUR
I smile at the message emblazoned on my phone screen.
Paige: I can’t wait to see you.
My head rests on my seat as the plane ascends, and the noise around me fades while thoughts of Paige swarm my mind. I can still hear her laugh from our phone call last night ringing in my ears. There has never been a sweeter sound in the world.
I’ll admit I was hard as a rock by the time we got off the phone and came embarrassingly fast when I stroked myself thinking about Paige.
I glance out the window, eager for this flight to be over already. It’s only been a week since I’ve seen Paige, but even after nearly a decade of separation, a week feels like too much. I’m done being away from her.
Although they aren’t my favorite, away games never felt like torture before; I always prefer a home-field advantage. But being away from Paige for seven whole days after reconnecting with her feels like pure torment. Yet, despite the distance, it was the least alone I had felt in years. Just hearing her voice on the other end of the phone every night was like a soothing balm.
The icing on the cake, though, was rediscovering that our connection is as strong as ever. It was like the last nine years never really happened. Talking with her has been as easy as it was when we were kids. I swear I’ve laughed more this past week than I have since Paige and I dated.
The hardest part has been the relentless boners. Pun intended. I swear just hearing her voice makes me rock hard. I’m certain that I’ve developed new callouses on my hand from the number of times I’ve had to jack off this week. I don’t remember any woman ever provoking this kind of response from me.
Max disrupts my thoughts with a bump to my elbow. “I’m guessing that smirk on your face has to do with the lovely Paige.”
I turn toward him to see my grin reflected on his face. “It does.”
“Dude, you know I love you like you were my own brother, but I never realized what an asshole you were until Paige came back into the picture. I don’t know how she did it, but it’s like she’s smoothed out all your rough spots. You’ve been in a ridiculously good mood. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been getting laid regularly.”
I ignore his getting laid comment since he knows I’ve stayed in my room instead of partying with the team each night. My only company this week has been my hand.
“I wasn’t that big of an asshole before.”
“No, you weren’t terrible, but now that I’ve seen the difference, it’s pretty noticeable.”
I shrug. “Nothing’s really happened with Paige yet. We’ve only had the hike and then that one dinner date.”
“And you talk every night,” he points out with another grin on his face. “You want something to happen, right?”
I can’t stop the you’re-fucking-joking-right face from emerging. “Of course, I want something to happen. It’s Paige. She’s the woman I’ve compared all others to. Hell, my refusal to let go of Paige is what drove Kallie to cheat; and I didn’t even care when she left.
“Paige is what I’ve been missing all this time. Leaving her at that airport in Chicago and then breaking up with her all those years ago has always been my biggest regret. I want nothing more than to make something happen with Paige, preferably something permanent.”
He sits up and his grin drops. “Woah, are you serious? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention anything remotely related to marriage before. Are you sure you want to go there that quickly? I mean, you guys just reconnected.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack. She’s the one. I can feel it with every fiber of my being. She’s what I’ve been missing. She’s who I need in my life. Everything feels right when I’m with her.”
I have no doubt if Paige hadn’t moved, we’d probably already be married with a couple of kids. Max stares at me, his mouth slightly agape in shock. He’s right; I’ve never talked about anyone like this. But I’ve also never loved anyone the way I love Paige.
“Okay…” He hesitates and looks at me cautiously. “What about the fact that she’s a journalist? Aren’t you worried that she could write something about you?”
I glance out the window at the endless white clouds. I’ve thought a lot about that since she’s been back in my life. I’m damn proud of her for what she’s accomplished, but I can’t lie to Max and tell him it doesn’t worry me she’s a journalist. I witnessed her hesitation when we had dinner. She had to think about whether she was with me as a reporter or as a date.
There’s a little whisper of doubt in the back of my mind that’s urging me to slow down, but I can’t.
It’s that simple.
I want her.
I turn back to him. “I’ve thought about it. I’m going to talk with her when we’re back and make sure we’re on the same page about our professional lives not mixing with our personal ones.”
“Do you think she’ll be receptive to that? I mean, you’d be one hell of a story. Every sports journalist has been trying to get an interview with you for years. It’d be a hell of a step up for her career to be the reporter who lands you.”
I glance away again, and this time I don’t look back at him. I can’t. He knows me too well and would be able to read the slight insecurity that’s desperately trying to surface. It would absolutely make her career, but it would also be the end of us—permanently. When it comes to Paige, that’s not the permanent I want. I’m just hoping she agrees.
TWENTY-FIVE
My knuckles rap against the sturdy wood door to Vince’s office as I make my presence known. He’s been in a million meetings this week, and every time I tried to meet with him, he seemed to disappear. As the days have dragged on, my patience has waned because I’ve been itching to talk to him about this Jack article.
I was naïve to think my feelings for Jack had been buried so deep that they wouldn’t resurface as soon as we spent time together. Even when we’ve been apart, our conversations are richer than ever. I actually forgot what it felt like to laugh as hard as he’s made me laugh the past couple of nights.
“Hey Vince, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He glances at me, his face lighting up. “Paige! Just the woman I wanted to see. How’re things going with our favorite football player?”
“Um, good. Listen Vince, I really think it would be better if I focused my efforts on another article idea. I have several already started—”
He cuts me off. “Wait, are you still trying to get out of writing the Fuller piece? I thought we handled this weeks ago.” He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at me like I just grew three heads and am speaking a language he doesn’t understand.
“I told you I wasn’t sure I was the right fit.”
“Clearly you are, if Jack’s response to you tells us anything. I’ve heard several people talking about it. There’s a lot of buzz about you since that initial press conference. It’s clear you two have chemistry. Just use that to your advantage.”
He turns back to his computer like he’s ready to dismiss me.
“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying. I’m not the kind of reporter who gets…personal with her subjects.” I’m not even going to bother telling him that Jack and I have been on a date and are talking regularly. The less fuel he has the better.
He scoffs. “I don’t care what you do in your bedroom, Paige. I care about this story.”
