Chapter 15
I’ve never been one to break the rules, but I guess after tonight, I can no longer say that.
I spent most of the day trying to talk myself out of this, while pretending like nothing was wrong every time my best friend asked.
Raelynn and I were together for the better part of the morning—first for breakfast, then getting our nails done, before rounding it off with a run down the canal and lunch at my condo—and the last thing I needed was the added pressure from her to make tonight go well.
I lied when she asked what I was doing tonight, because if she knew the truth, she would have lost her mind and never would’ve left my place until she was satisfied with my appearance.
I’d already felt a weight on my shoulders since I’d agreed to it, and I didn’t need her (or anyone) making it worse.
I knew better than to say yes to him, but I couldn’t stop it.
Like the filter between my brain and my mouth was missing.
Valentine’s Day was meant for staying home, ordering pizza, and spending it with two men named Ben and Jerry. But this year I’ll be spending it with one man named John Brooks.
Last night, John stopped me after his match, pulling me between some of the larger black production boxes to shield us from any lurking eyes backstage. “Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow?”
“You do know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. Whether that was from a lack of knowing or just not wanting to admit it, I couldn’t be sure. “Valentine’s Day, John. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay.” The answer was so simple, so matter-of-fact, I wasn’t sure how to feel. Did he forget that we weren’t actually dating? It was only a storyline, and you don’t go out to dinner with people you aren’t dating on Valentine’s Day. Everyone knows that.
“And you want to go to dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Is this you asking me on a real date?”
His tongue poked out to wet his lips before he rolled them between his teeth. “What if it is?”
“John—”
“It doesn’t have to be, Sav,” he says, shrugging. “It can just be dinner between friends, coworkers, storyline partners…whatever you want.”
Whatever I want. What I wanted was the man standing in front of me…who just so happened to be asking me on a date on the annual day of love. I should take it as a sign, right? That’s what Cass and Kingsley—and Raelynn—would say.
“Don’t you dare ask me to be your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, John Brooks. That’s corny,” I said, pointing my finger at him, and when I laughed, a genuine smile formed on his lips.
Dating a wrestler—a coworker—was never part of my plan.
I didn’t want to complicate things. I didn’t want to make a mess I couldn’t escape, but the time John and I have spent together lately has only confirmed what I already knew: he’s the one.
The one man on the roster I would break my rule for.
And the harder I search for a reason to cancel tonight, the more obvious that truth becomes.
I did what I set out to do. I made a name for myself in the industry and with the fans, firmly cemented myself as a top female wrestler, and had what is already being called one of the top ten matches of the year—the championship match between me and Rae last month.
The problem is that the higher I’ve climbed the proverbial mountain of success, the more I realize there will always be something else, some new challenge to overcome.
So, why should I continue to deny myself?
Why shouldn’t I get the only other thing I’ve truly wanted the last few years?
John said he would pick me up at five, but my building phone rings at 4:54 p.m., and my doorman tells me I have a gentleman guest who wants to be let upstairs.
When I open my door, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.
Both of us seem equally nervous, and that makes me feel a little less so.
“You look…” His gaze lifts to meet mine, and he bites down on his lip. “Beautiful.” It’s so simple, but the compliment warms my being. John outstretches his hand. “Shall we?”
A large hand envelops my waist when he meets me on the bow of the sailboat. He pulls me into his side and kisses the top of my head. “Warm enough?” John asks with a slight chuckle in his tone.
When we pulled up to the marina earlier, I glowered at him from the passenger seat.
He forgot to mention I’d need a wetsuit for this date.
John laughed softly to himself, noticing my glare, and gave my leg a gentle squeeze through the fabric of my white-knit midi skirt.
“Relax, we’re not going swimming”—he shot me a toothy grin—“unless you want to.” His thumb dipped beneath the small slit to caress my thigh, and his touch set fire to my skin.
“I’m fine,” I say, settling a little further into his embrace.
“How am I doing on the cliché meter?”
“On a scale of one to ten, this is definitely an eight. But I’ve never been on a sailboat, let alone a sailboat during sunset, so I’ll bring it down to a six.”
John smiles. “I half expected you to say eleven.”
“You’re a cliché, John Brooks, but you haven’t officially asked me to be your girlfriend on this commercialized day of love. Unless you do that, you’ll remain in the safe zone.”
“And what if I did?” He turns me in his arms to stare straight into my eyes, his face serious. “Ask you to be my girlfriend.”
The final moments of daylight cast a warm glow on his face, and a hint of green surrounds his pupils, spilling into the blue depths. For a moment, the only sounds are the waves beneath our feet, lapping at the side of the boat, and the captain somewhere below deck whistling a happy tune to himself.
“Is this you asking?”
“No,” he says, and another smile spreads across his lips. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Not yet,” John confirms. “We do have something else to discuss. Tonight is all about risks.”
That’s an interesting way to say it.
“So, in that spirit, I’d like to play a game.”
“A game?”
“A game. There are three different levels, each one has two options, and the choice you make will determine what we do tonight. So, are you willing to play a game of risk with me?”
I look around at the scene before us. We’re on a sailboat in the middle of Tampa Bay watching the sunset with champagne, and you mean to tell me this isn’t our date? I meet his awaiting gaze, and ask, “You mean this isn’t our date?”
John laughs, cradling the side of my neck to pull me in and kiss my forehead. “Sweetheart, this is only the appetizer.” The look in his eyes matches the fire that ignites in my core. “Are you ready?”
No.
“Yes,” I say, holding his stare.
“Level one: A or B,” he says, and my mind goes blank. Shit. What am I supposed to say? I thought he’d give me actual options, not pawns to choose from. “Don’t think about it, Savannah. Just choose.”
“I-I don’t—”
“Choose.”
“A.”
“Okay,” John says with a toothy grin. “Level two: square or circle.”
“Circle.”
“And finally, level three: red or white.”
“Red.”
John’s pace slows when we approach an exit from the Riverwalk, not far from my condo building.
He uses our conjoined hands to stop my movements, pulling me into him.
His right hand cradles my left against his chest, and his left arm slips around my waist. He moves us in a small sway beneath the city lights, leaning in close until our noses touch.
When he spins me out and back in, it brings us even closer, and my breath catches as his lips brush over mine for the first time all night. He doesn’t close the gap; he kisses the tip of my nose instead.
“Do you want to play one more level?” John asks.
My brow cocks. Another level? It has to be close to midnight. What else could he possibly have planned?
So far, my choices have led to: “A,” mini golf; “circle,” a visit to John’s favorite ice cream shop right outside of Tampa, because apparently he is a dessert before dinner kind of guy; and “red,” a private cooking class where we made caprese salad, fresh mushroom ravioli, and a side of broccoli rabe.
When John parked outside my building after dinner, he practically jumped out of the driver’s seat to open my door before I could.
I assumed the date was over, but he offered a stroll down the Riverwalk instead, and that’s how we ended up here…
Apparently, still in the middle of our game risk, but so far, the rewards have paid off.
“What are my choices?” I ask.
“Level four: Hearts or Spades?”
“Spades.”
The answer comes out so fast it surprises me, and a boyish smirk crosses his lips. John pulls me back into his side, pressing his lips to my temple in a long kiss. We walk through the waterfront park, up the sidewalk toward the street that will lead back to my building.
“So, do I get to know what the alternative date plans were?”
“And why would I do that?” He asks, pausing outside the lobby door. “I don’t want to spoil any element of surprise I may have for the future.”
The future. As in, this wasn’t just a one-time thing. As in, he wants to do this again…with me.
“C’mon, let’s get you inside.” John’s hand falls to my lower back, guiding me through the lobby door.
This walk reminds me of the first night we met, when we got to The Resort before spending the rest of the night getting to know each other.
But this time, when we step into the elevator, he doesn’t stand on the other side of the car.
He remains at my side, and his left hand grips my waist, keeping me close, before sliding back to my lower back when the elevator doors open on the thirteenth floor.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say, unlocking my apartment, but I don’t open the door. “It’s been fun.”
He’s farther away than I remember him being when I turn around, now standing on the opposite side of the hallway.
His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his dress pants.
The sleeves of his white button-up have been rolled just above his elbows, and the top three buttons are undone.
The muscles beneath the fabric pull it taut against his body, and I’ve caught myself staring more than once tonight. So has he.
“You have the time?” he asks, staring me straight in the eye.
Why is he asking me what time it is? That’s a strange question…Regardless, I pull my phone from my clutch and watch the time flicker to 12:01 a.m. on February 15th. “It’s 12—”
Before I can finish, John kisses me.
He pushes me against the door of my condo, and I moan softly against his lips.
This is what I’ve wanted, what I’ve waited for all night.
He maintained a respectable distance throughout our date, and it left me wanting more.
I’ll admit, I was a little afraid he would walk me to my door and leave without even kissing me. Looks like I just needed to be patient.
Patience is a virtue, Mamá would say, and it’s one I’m not good at practicing.
“Isn’t it time we break that rule, Sweetheart?” The nickname sends a chill down my spine, or maybe it’s the way he whispers it against my ear before kissing the skin where my neck and jaw meet.
“John—”
He pulls back to look at me. “Savannah, I respect the hell out of you, and I will do whatever you want, but fuck…I just want to call you mine.”
The confession chips away at the last remaining resolve I have left, and I laugh. “Did you really wait until after midnight to ask me to be your girlfriend?”
“You told me it would be corny to ask you on Valentine’s Day.”
I didn’t think he’d taken me seriously, but the fact that he did is cute.
“It is corny. You’re corny.” I laugh, and he nuzzles his face into my neck, inhaling deeply before I feel a soft kiss against my collarbone.
“Okay,” I whisper, and he returns his gaze to mine.
“I always said you were the one man I’d break that rule for… and I meant it, John.”
“Wait, let’s do this properly,” he says, taking a step back. Before I know it, he’s down on one knee.
“John Brooks, what in the hell are you doing?” I urge him to stand up. “I swear if you ask—”
“Savannah Josefine Williams,”—Oh, fuck, I’m not ready for this—“will you do me the honor of breaking your one rule and becoming my girlfriend?”
An involuntary breath of relief escapes my mouth when he says girlfriend. “Yes,” I say, and laugh, tugging gently on his arm. “Now get up before someone sees you.”
The first thought that comes to mind: Holy shit, I just said yes to John Brooks. The same man who captured my heart inside a college bar, but I never thought I’d see him again. If only I’d known what the universe had in store for me on that fateful night. Holy shit, I just said yes to John Brooks.
I smack his chest playfully as he stands. “Don’t do that!”
“What?” His cocked brow matches the smirk on his lips. “Did you think I was going to ask you something else?”
“No,” I lie, and it makes him laugh.
“Sweetheart, one day I am going to ask you to marry me, but it won’t be standing outside the door of your condo.
” He sounds so certain, I have no choice but to believe him.
But how can he possibly know that? He only asked me to be his girlfriend sixty seconds ago.
John pulls me to him in a hard kiss, claiming my mouth.
We tumble inside when I reach behind, twisting the doorknob, but he pulls away briefly.
He stares down at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and sighs. “I want you so fucking bad, Savannah…”
“There’s a but in there…I can tell.”
“But…I don’t want to rush things. Not this time.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” I say, laughing, but he doesn’t return it. He’s serious?
“I want to do this right, Sweetheart. You mean more to me than just sex or jumping into bed because it’s been over a year since I’ve felt you wrapped around my cock…
” The words draw my brows higher and higher.
I don’t know who he’s trying to convince more—me or him.
Clearing his throat, he says, “I don’t want to screw this up. ”
A smile pulls on my lips, and I kiss him gently. “I guess you should be going then.”
John smirks and swipes his tongue over his teeth, dipping down to whisper in my ear. “Just because I want to take things slow doesn’t mean I can’t play with you at all.” His eyes are darker than the depths of the ocean when I pull away to look up at him, and that simple look lights my skin on fire.