Page 62 of Botched

He doesn’t feel like that about me anymore.

I’ve ruined it.

I’ve pushed him away too much.

But then he melts into it. His hands grip my shoulders and pulls me to him, his full lips moving softly against mine.

It’s not a hungry kiss like we shared on his birthday. It’s sweeter. Something I can fall into and not want to resurface. My arm slips up to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as his tongue seeks entrance to my mouth and I grant it.

When it breaks, he presses his forehead to mine. “Is that a thank you?” he whispers, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, that’s a thank you.”

Theo smiles and presses another gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’d do anything to make things easier for you, baby doll.”

Chapter Forty-One

AURORA

Rise

Episode 582

Washington D.C

Iwas kept off TV for twolongweeks. There was an HR meeting about the entire situation, one where everyone was extremely apologetic about the ‘outside hack’ that violated a few GRW talents. That’s the story they went with to the public. There was an outside hack violating the privacy of wrestlers and it was handled. By ‘handled’ they meant that Austin was fired and blacklisted from the industry.

Theo’s been on my ass about going after him for revenge porn, but that ruins GRW’s cover-up story and risks outing Theo for assault, which Nathan has been an angel about and is protecting him. Money talks. I’m convinced that Theo could get away with murder and Nathan would cover it up for his champion. If I didn’t want a future at GRW, I probably would go after Austin, but this is where I want to be. I can’t risk it.

Sometimes sacrifices have been made.

The public harassment has died off a bit. News ofmypictures getting leaked dropped quickly after Theo’s own became public. That was much more interesting. Now, the internet fans and the dirt sheets have moved on to the next story, Zayden Trilow, also known as Trilogy, one of the fastest growing young stars in GRW, suffered a gruesome arm injury on live TV. It just…snapped.

So, everyone’s worried more about Zayden’s future than how he’s currently doing. Which isn’t well. I don’t reallyknowZayden, but I’ve texted him a few times to check in. Because that’s what people should do. Common sense, right?

Today’s my first day back on camera and I’m sort of terrified. My stomach has been twisting and flipping the entire time. I wanted to puke during the plane ride here and in the Uber to and from the hotel. Anxiety is setting in hard. I thought about calling out. Theo told me he would drag me by my ankles to work if I did that.

I hate that the thought of that turned me on a little bit.

We haven’t talked much about what happened between us. The kiss. Theo hasn’t pushed which feels like the most un-Theo thing he could do. I want him to push. I want him to ask me about it because I am over being scared.

Fear can’t control me. I can’t let it ruin things like it so badly wants to do.

That’s why I showed up at work today. Even if I’m keeping my head down, trying to avoid the gaze of my coworkers. Not like any of them care as much as I think they do. I just focus on heading toward Theo’s locker room.

“Roo!” The shout of the nickname that only one person uses makes me finally look up. Theo stands, leaning with one shoulder against the wall. His gestures with his head for me to come over and join his conversation.

Standing across from him is the familiar mountain of a man. Micah’s wearing a cut-up t-shirt. The sleeves are cut to show off his tattooed sleeves, and the bottom of the shirt is cut into a crop top,showing off insanely defined abs. Blond hair is pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck, stubble lines his chiseled jaw.

His blue eyes settle on me and a smile pulls over his lips, showing off blindingly white teeth. “Aurora,” he greets me.

Annoyance is painted on Theo’s face as clear as day. He’s not bothering to hide it. Reaching out, his hand settles around my waist and he yanks me to him. I bite back a smirk, amused at how he’s acting.

I don’t know a lot about where things are between us. He took care of me at my lowest. He gives me butterflies. He named his cat after my favorite Fleetwood Mac album. But neither of us have talked about what this does or doesn’t mean. It’s unspoken between the two of us. Maybe it’s better if it stays that way.

“Micah and I were talking about our match later,” he informs me, keeping me pinned to his side.

“Okay.” I nod, giving him the chance to continue.

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