Chapter Three
Natalie
As soon as I got to the hotel, I jumped into a shower and started scolding myself as harshly as I could manage. How stupid did I have to be to hook up with the guy that I was meant to be writing a story about?
I had assumed that our burgeoning sexual tension was what I would use to keep him interested and coming back for more, not a card I would play within minutes of being alone with him. I couldn’t believe how dumb I’d been, but yet here we were; my pussy was sore from him inside me, and my body was already craving him again. I’d had to fight the urge to throw myself at him before we left the plane, and it had taken everything I had in me to back off and put some space between us. I had to keep focused on the story. I had to.
I unpacked my stuff, and looked around the hotel room. I would barely be here long enough to justify arranging my toiletries on the counter in the bathroom. I had never travelled as much as I was going to in the next month, and it was a lot to get my head around. Not having a place to call my own felt distinctly weird.
Maybe that’s why I’d done it; maybe I was searching for something I knew would be a regular feature in my life while I was away, and he was the only thing I could rely on. I shook my head at myself in the mirror. Enough with the amateur psychology already. You fucked him because you wanted him and he wanted you. And now, you were staring at yourself in a hotel bathroom mirror trying to convince yourself that there was something more to it. There wasn’t, and all you had to do was get it out of your head and focus on acting like a fucking professional.
He had seemed keen to get in touch with me again, so maybe I hadn’t totally blown my chances. But what if he expected it every time? Maybe that’s why he invited me along, as his own personal fuck-doll on tour. Well, if that was his game, I had some bad news for him. I might have been easily seduced, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Even if I could still feel the way his hands roamed all over my body and instantly craved more all over again. If he had walked in my hotel room door and told me he wanted me in that second, I would have been helpless to resist him, and the knowledge of that was enough to make me want to scream.
For the next week, every time I went out to meet with him again, I looked at myself in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk before I did so. I had to remind myself not to do anything that I would regret. Remind myself that he was just a boy, and boys like him came along all the time. That if I fucked this up, I would have to go back to Tanya and tell them why, and live with their judgement of what I’d done.
It didn’t make it any easier knowing that he very clearly wanted me, badly. When we went out for dinner that first night, it was just the two of us, and he picked a place with low lighting and expensive wine that he insisted on treating me to, to celebrate our venture together. He let our knees knock together under the table, and our fingers bump into each other a few times, and I knew he was just waiting for me to snap and invite him back to my hotel room.
And God, did I want to. Maybe it was the tantalizing knowledge that we shouldn’t do any of this that was making me so damn inclined to, but either way, it was taking every single bit of restraint I had in me to fight the urge to jump his gorgeous bones. I hadn’t even gotten my hands on him, not really, and it felt as though I’d been cheated out of a life-changing experience.
His first fight went well; I brought along my recorder and kept it close to me the entire night, using it as a way to keep myself accountable for what I did that evening. I mostly just took spoken notes about the atmosphere of the fight, and managed to catch a couple of people for interviews here and there.
It wasn’t much, but it was something, a foundation to build my article around. In all my years covering sports, I had done very limited reporting on MMA and it was good to have a chance to catch the temperature of the crowd and get a feel for what I could expect over the next few weeks.
The cheap beer flowed but the crowd never got rowdy; in fact, it seemed like a pretty good-natured place to hang out on a weekend evening. No one gave me any hassle, which was impressive, as even as a reporter when I turned out to sporting events as a single woman, I tended to end up having to beat back over-enthusiastic fans keen to give me their inside scoop on proceedings.
He won the first fight, and I went to find him as soon as it was over. But when I finally came across him chilling backstage with Angelo, I was surprised to see that he was surrounded by a bevy of gorgeous women.
I mean, I wasn’t sure what I expected. This was part of his game, after all. He had a reputation and I had known that when I signed up to cover this story. Hell, that was part of the reason I had picked it up. But for some reason, seeing him with a handful of women hanging on his every word, each of them dressed to the nines and tossing their hair and clearly having come out here with the intention of getting Jacob into bed, I felt a stab of jealousy.
He took a minute to notice me standing in the corner of the room, my recorder hanging limply from my hand, and for a second he didn’t react. It was as though he was showing me what I was missing, reminding me that it could have been me hanging off his arm after a fight. We stared at each other for a moment, and the gregarious smile dropped from his face for a split-second. Everyone around him seemed to dull down momentarily, waiting for Jacob to join in on the fun again, and it didn’t take long for him to click back into the charming form he’d been in when I arrived. I made my way over, swallowing heavily to dull the deep thud of jealousy that was pulsing through my chest.
“Hey,” I greeted him, speaking loudly so that I could be heard over the chatter of everyone around him. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he nodded, but he seemed distracted. Or maybe he was just playing that way? I couldn’t believe the high-school levels of over-analyzing I was already going through. I was a grown-ass adult, for Christ’s sake, and I wasn’t going to spend this whole trip trying to figure out what games Jacob was trying to play with me. We had hooked up, he had tried for another round, and I had shot him down. Now he was moving on. What was I so jealous about?
He was doing what I had asked of him.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Good,” he nodded, distracted by one of the women who was whispering in his ear. He grinned at whatever it was that she was saying to him. I tapped my foot, pissed, and caught the eye of Angelo. He was watching me with something that resembled amusement, as though he wanted to turn to me and say Look, this is what you signed up for, I told you, I told you.And he had been right. No wonder he had seemed so against me coming along on this tour.
Maybe he had known that this would happen, that Jacob would push me away as soon as he realized that I was no longer a sexual conquest.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked, trying not to sound too impatient and failing. He met my gaze steadily, and suddenly I felt a shiver dart along my spine. I was reminded why I had done it in the first place, why we had hooked up on his plane and why I had to fight the urge to invite him back to my hotel room and lock the doors and make sure that he never left.
He was just…I couldn’t describe it. I had written for a living for years, and yet I couldn’t put into words the way that he made me feel. My stomach flipped and the soles of my feet tingled and it was all I could do just to stay standing.
“Not right now,” he waved his hand, dismissing me. I flushed with anger. “Maybe I’ll catch you later?”
“Sure,” I backed off, stalking off, out of the press area and back towards the bar that I had spotted on my way in. I needed a drink, and soon. I caught the eye of a good-looking older guy leaning on the edge of the bar opposite me, and I offered him up a half-hearted smile, but I knew that I didn’t really want to distract myself with anyone else. I ordered a beer in one of those cheap, sweaty plastic cups, and drank it quickly.
It didn’t make me feel much better. I made my way back to the hotel, which was a mercifully short walk from the arena, and managed to put in a few last-minute notes on my recorder. I knew that listening to them back I would probably cringe at how obviously miserable I sounded, but these were for me and no one else. I sighed before I switched it off, a little crackle of static floating out of the Dictaphone, and made my way back up to my hotel room.
As soon as I got in, I kicked off my shoes and flopped face-first on to my bed. I fell asleep right there, and woke up the next morning with make-up smeared across most of my face. I transcribed my notes over breakfast, and did my best to ignore the fact that I sounded beyond pissed off by the end of the evening.
His next fight was a state over and a day later, giving me time to start writing up an outline for the article and pack up my stuff before we took off once more. He didn’t give me a ride in his jet this time, and I was kind of glad not to have to worry about turning down the offer.
I had so many feelings about everything that had happened, I wasn’t certain that I wouldn’t just blurt it all out as soon as I got him by himself again. I just…I felt like I was a teenager again, trying to decode signals from a guy who probably didn’t even know he was throwing any in my direction.
His next fight was an even quicker win than his first. I had to admit, I was impressed. On the train on the way over, I had watched a few of the best MMA fights online, giving myself a frame of reference for what I was looking at. Even though I knew I was an asshole for even thinking it, I’d kind of sourly assumed that it was his father’s money that had gotten him where he was today.
But I was clearly jumping to conclusions, because he could hold his own in the ring and it was clear that the other guy wasn’t holding back. I hadn’t managed to get him by himself since our dinner together and there was only so much background research I could do before I needed to get something meaty from him again, so I chased him down as soon as the fight was over and ducked into his dressing room.
“Oh, hey,” he flashed me an excited smile, clearly still pumped with adrenalin from his victory. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to get an interview with you,” I replied good-naturedly. See? We could be platonic. I would just have to ignore the fact that he had peeled his shirt off and that he looked just ridiculously hot. I took a deep breath, pulling myself out of my attraction, and smiled.
“Uh, I actually have an after-party to go to,” he shrugged. “You’re welcome to come, if you want?”
He didn’t make eye contact with me, but the careful way he spoke told me that he really wanted me to come along. I hesitated. I really needed to get him on his own, but there seemed no way to do that outside of just going along with what he wanted. He was in control here, and I didn’t like that. I had to remind myself that I was the one telling the story, and that I was the one who got to dictate how he came across to a huge bunch of people. Our readers trusted me, our editors did too, and I just had to find it in me to do the same.
“I’d love to,” I managed with a smile. His face lit up briefly, but he quickly dulled his excitement and went to grab a smart shirt from the wardrobe next to him.
“Cool,” he replied, his tone casual and disinterested. But I could tell that he was pleased to have me there. And honestly, I was just glad to have him on his own for a second. Seeing him with all those women had sent a jealous animal rearing up inside of me, one that I didn’t recognize. I knew he’d probably hooked up with at least one of them, and I couldn’t compete with how available those women were to him. They had no reason to hold back, but I did, and I hated it so much.
I managed to get a couple of decent quotes as I kept my back turned to him while he got changed, doing my level best not to glance at his reflection in the small mirror on the opposite wall. I could have just turned around and kissed him, told him that I wanted him more than anything else, told him to fuck the story and fuck me instead. But I knew I would hate myself for it. Temptation came second to success, and I wasn’t going to let a pretty boy throw my game off.
We left together, and I caught a couple of people shooting me envious looks as we made our way out the door. I tucked my Dictaphone away discreetly, knowing that if people thought we were together then maybe, just maybe, they would back off and let me get the story that I needed. I knew it was a long shot, but there had to be some way to keep the swathes of women who seemed hungry for him, away for long enough to get a few decent quotes.
Any hope of that went out the window as soon as we arrived at the conference room that had been put aside for the afterparty; the place was thrumming with sound, lights flashing everywhere as clusters of people danced and grinded up on each other. I rolled my eyes briefly, and quickly plastered a smile on my face as Jacob turned around to catch my eye.
“Pretty good, huh?” He raised his eyebrows at me. I was pretty sure he’d caught my little display of boredom, but I had to play the game. I needed to get as much as I could, and sticking by his side was the best way to achieve that.
“Awesome,” I nodded, my grin setting solid on my face as I scanned my eyes around the room. There were already at least a half-dozen women eyeing him up, and I pressed myself close against him, making out like it was just a surge of the crowd that had landed me this close to him. He turned, slipping an arm briefly around my waist to offer me some support.
“You alright?” He asked, and I nodded.
“I need a drink,” I hooked my arm through his. “Come on, let’s get something.”
The rest of the night I spent tailing him closely, not bothering with the Dictaphone as it would have been blown out by the sheer level of noise in the room. Well, that, I wouldn’t have to look back on the flirting between us and cringe at how obvious I was being. I nursed one beer and kept as sober as I could, but being in his presence was still enough to make me a little giddy.
Eventually, Jacob ducked outside for a cigarette and I followed him. My ears were a little numb from being assaulted by the noise in the party, and it was getting late. I let out a yawn and Jacob eyed me with amusement.
“You’re not used to this kind of life, are you~?” He remarked, and I waved a hand at him.
“It’s just been a long day, especially on top of the jet-lag,” I brushed him off. “You’re used to it, I’m not.”
“I guess,” he shrugged. “And I’ve got all the adrenalin from the fights to keep me going.”
“That hasn’t worn off yet?” I pulled a face at him.
“Maybe it has and I’m just drunk,” he grinned, taking a draw and blowing the blue-white smoke into the cool night air around us. “I still feel great, though.”
“You must have noticed all the girls checking you out,” I blurted, even though pointing that out to him was kind of counter-intuitive.
“Why? Jealous?” He asked, another playful smile playing over his lips. His eyes flicked down to my mouth and I slid my eyes away from him. I couldn’t be this close to him, this alone with him, especially when both our inhibitions were slightly lowered.
“No,” I mumbled, irritated. “You seemed to enjoy plenty of female attention last night, why not tonight?”
“I’ve already got plenty of female attention,” he looked at me pointedly, and my eyebrows shot up at once.
“Are you serious?” I spluttered, half-laughing and half-covering up the fact that I was secretly relieved that he still actually considered me as…as what, I couldn’t be sure, but as something.
“You remember what happened on that plane, right?” He lowered his voice, and I forced myself to look at the ground. Of course, I remembered. Every night since, I had laid in bed and thought about the way his mouth had felt against my clit, how my body had reacted to his touch. “Yeah,” I shrugged. Spur of the moment., that’s all.”
“Really?” He took another drag. “Nothing more?”
I stayed silent. I didn’t know what to say. I knew that I should have shut him the hell down, that I should have told him to back off and that nothing was going to happen between us. But I didn’t quite have it in me to cut off any chance for anything else to happen with Jacob and I.
I was into him in a big way, even if that attraction was more physical than anything else, and he was enough of a decent guy to back the fuck up if he thought I was actually not interested at all. And I couldn’t quite commit to that yet.
“I should probably get to bed,” I bowed my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”
“Sleep well,” he watched me as I made my way back into the party, through the crowds of people and out into the corridor beyond. I pressed my hand up against the wall, holding myself steady as soon as I was out of his view, and wondered how the hell I was meant to work closely with a guy who I desperately wanted to fuck. The next few weeks were going to be a living hell.