Page 30 of False Start, Real Passion
He heads straight for me.
“You’re avoiding me, sweetheart.” Jaxon’s voice is low, and his grin is even lower.
He’s drenched in sweat, glistening like some sportswear ad for cocky quarterbacks. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to babysit a high-maintenance athlete, but it’s the first time one has made my stomach flip like I’m on a rollercoaster without a seatbelt.
“I’m not avoiding you. Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, aiming for cool indifference. I miss. “We need to talk.”
He’s still staring, like he’s waiting for me to trip over my own feet.
“After your practice.” I force myself to break eye contact and walk past him, wondering if he can see how red my face is. Professionalism, Tori. Keep it together. But it’s hard to stay focused when your biggest challenge is six-foot-four with abs that could legally be declared a weapon.
Practice grinds on, each pass and tackle like a reminder that I’m in way over my head. When the players finally start wrapping up, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. But before I can make a run for it, the sky darkens like a scene from a disaster movie. Just my luck.
Ominous clouds loom on the horizon, promising a storm. I shiver despite the muggy heat. It doesn’t take long for fat drops of rain hit my head and soak through my blouse in seconds. Great. At this rate, I’ll look like a drowned rat in record time. I can’t wait to explain that one to my boss.
I make a run for my car but Jaxon stands in my way.
“Let’s get out of this,” he shouts over the roar of the rain. He doesn’t wait for a reply before tugging me toward an old equipment shed. It’s either follow him or get washed away. I pick the lesser of two evils and let him drag me inside.
The door slams behind us, muting the storm but not the pounding in my chest. It’s cramped, dim, and the air is thick with humidity. Shelves piled with helmets and jerseys loom around us like witnesses. This is not how I pictured my career.
I lean against the wall, catching my breath. Water drips from my clothes, forming puddles at my feet. Jaxon stands across from me, equally drenched. His t-shirt clings to his chest, outlining every sculpted muscle.
“Cozy,” he says, running a hand through his dripping hair. His shirt clings to him in ways I really shouldn’t notice.
“We can’t stay here.” I force my gaze away, trying to focus on anything but the way his eyes seem to smolder in the dim light. Outside, thunder rumbles like a warning.
We’re alone, hidden from prying eyes. The air feels heavy with more than just humidity. I swallow hard, my heart an erratic drum beat in my chest.
“Pretty sure your car can’t swim.” He steps closer, his eyes intense.
I try to retreat, but there’s nowhere to go. This is exactly what I was afraid of—him getting too close and me being too stupid to push him away.
“What are you afraid of, Tori?” His voice is rough, the kind that doesn’t beg for answers but demands them. “Why do you keep running?”
His nearness is overwhelming. Everything about him is overwhelming. The rain drums on the roof, amplifying the tension until it’s all I can hear.
“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he whispers, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
“I don’t—” I start, but my voice catches.
What happens next could change everything. And that terrifies me more than any storm ever could.
He braces a hand on the wall behind me, caging me in. The rain drums overhead, a staccato rhythm that matches my pulse. I press back against the rough wood, but there’s nowhere to go.
He leans in, his nose brushing mine.
“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “Tell me it’s all just for show.”
I part my lips, ready to deny it. But the words won’t come. Because standing here, with the storm raging outside and Jaxon’s heat seeping into my bones, I can’t lie anymore.
Not to him. And not to myself.
The kiss is slow at first, testing, like he’s waiting for me to push him away. I don’t. God help me, I kiss him back. My hands find his shoulders, and everything else—logic, plans, reality—falls away. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against him, and the world shrinks to just this, just us.
I surge forward, fisting my hands in his rain-soaked jersey and pulling him flush against me. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like a tuning fork.
His lips slant over mine with a hunger that steals my breath. His hands slide down my sides, igniting sparks with every touch. He grips my hips, lifting me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, needing to be closer, always closer.
