Page 125 of Stroked by (Stroked)
He pulls me on his lap and leans back on the sofa where he cradles me and rubs my back. “Love wins out every time, Paisley. It’s a force you can never stop. You would have found a way to be with him. The attraction and bond between you was too strong.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry, too, Pay.” My head nuzzles into the crook of his neck as he grips me tighter. “We will figure everything out.”
“I’m going to get a job as a waitress while I look for another job in the industry. I don’t want you to have to pay my bills again. It’s not fair to you.”
He chuckles, the vibration running through his chest shakes me slightly. “Paisley, don’t you know? I would do anything for you. I will take care of you, sweetheart. We will figure this all out.”
We sit in silence as the rest of the national anthem plays. I can’t help but get caught up in Reese’s smile, in the way his eyes are lit with the little crinkles in the corner. His face isn’t freshly shaven and as I think back over the race, I realize his entire routine was off. I wonder if he did this on purpose, if what I did affected him . . .
Of course it did. I received each and every text message from Melony begging me to call her, to let her know I was okay, and that Reese was losing his mind. But I couldn’t risk it. I didn’t want Bellini catching wind I was in communication with him, so I ignored everything, even though it was killing me inside, to see how much I was jeopardizing Reese’s Olympics. I could see it in his other races. He barely qualified and when he did, he wasn’t happy. It was like he was on autopilot, not really living in the moment.
That was until the crowd started to cheer for him tonight. Something lit up inside his body and put that one last spark in his stroke that he needed. Watching it from my end, I know I’ve never seen him swim so fast. He almost looked jerky in the water, like it was his first time, but with determination he continued to propel himself forward and at the turn, he had a good half-body length ahead of everyone. It was an easy win for him; one he didn’t think he actually won.
His interview after was endearing. He told the reporter his eyes went straight to silver and when he didn’t see his name, he was deflated, thinking he didn’t even medal. It wasn’t until people started chanting that he’d realized he won.
When he spoke into the camera, I wanted to think he was speaking to me, that he was trying to tell me he wished I were there. Believe me, I wished I were there too. I would probably blow our cover anyway over the excitement ripping through me.
You never know how much someone else’s goals matter to you until they’re accomplished.
“Want to order some pizza?” Jonathan asks, his lips close to my ear.
I pull away and look him in the eyes, trying to read him. His grip stays tight on me and his face is full of . . . lust.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t say anything, Paisley. Just know, if that dick ever hurts you, I will be sure he can never pose in front of a camera again.”
Leaning forward, he kisses the top of my forehead and sighs. “If things were different, we wouldn’t be sleeping in separate bedrooms.”
My brain literally can’t process what Jonathan is saying. Does he like me? What an elementary school thing to think . . . but does he?
Well, it’s kind of obvious now, especially with his bedroom comment.
“Jonathan, where is this coming from?”
On a separate note, I hate that Reese was right, and that every conversation fromWhen Harry Met Sallyis coming full circle.
He shrugs. “No clue. But don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You are in love with someone else, it’s evident in the way you’ve been mourning the loss of him. Let’s get some pizza, watch some more men dance around in tight spandex, and maybe make out a little.” He laughs, lightening the mood.
Playfully, I slap his chest and get off his lap. “We are not making out.”
“Fair enough.” He nods with a smile. “We will just have to heavily pet each other then. Believe me, I’m not opposed to the idea. I’ve been lotioning.”
Going to the drawer of menus, I pull out the pizza one and say, “No heavy petting either.”
“A little leg humping?”
“No.”
“How about a quick flash of the boobs?”
“You can flash me your boobs.” I giggle.
He thinks about it for a second and says, “All right, final offer. I flash you my boobs and you walk around in nothing but a thong and heels. Seems like a pretty fair trade to me.”
“No!” I laugh. “How is that a fair trade?”
