Page 51 of Heartbreaker
“There’s abutin 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.
“Sav?” His voice carries through the house. The large, opulent place he calls home is tucked away in the back of a gated community in one of the notoriously wealthy areas in central Florida: Crystal Bay. To live here, you’d have to spend no less than $1.3 million. (Yes, I looked it up. Is that weird?)
The Mediterranean-inspired exterior of John’s home was not what I had been expecting. I suppose I expected some bachelor pad condo outfitted with an over-the-top sound system, remote-controlled lights and blinds, minimal food, top-shelf alcohol, and an oversized television perfect for watching sports. Instead, what I found was a house full of sophistication and classic charm. A grand entry behind a wrought iron gate and a wall of stucco, with a private courtyard filled with lush greenery, a bench, and a small fountain. Inside, white walls, vaulted ceilings, wrought iron fixtures, dark wood floors, an open layout with arched doorways, a stone statement wall, and a lofted upstairs that overlooked the living space. The house was bright and airy, filled with an abundance of natural light from the rear wall of windows overlooking the backyard and in-ground pool. There were two garages: one three-car that housed his SUV and Porsche, and a single-car that had been converted into a home gym. When he showed me around, the one thing I noticed that was missing was a personal touch—no photos, no quirky momentos, no candles, no plants, no keepsakes of any kind. Everything was a neutral color. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought it was a furnished rental.
“What do you need all of this space for when you spend over half the year on the road?” I asked from across the marble kitchen island the first night I spent here. I thought it was a reasonable question. We spend over two hundred days a year on the road with EWE. How did it make sense to have something so…grand, if he couldn’t be here to enjoy it? Not to mention it was just him in a six-bedroom, more than five-thousand-square-foot house.
John handed me a glass of wine, checking the time left on the timer for the dinner he’d made. “I wanted something for me, I guess. Somewhere…safe.”
“Safe?”
He sighed, folding his hands as he leaned over the island. “It’s a long story, and I want to share it with you. I will, but not…not tonight.”
“Maybe when I’m older?” I joked. When he saw the smile in the corner of my lips, he couldn’t fight his own with a playful eye roll. Our age difference has never been a concern of mine, but it has been his. He’s thirty-one, and I’m twenty-four. Seven years isn’t a big gap, so I’ve never seen the issue.
“You can talk to me,” I said, placing my hands over his.
“I know, and I will. Just not tonight. I want to enjoy turning this house into a home with you.” John came around the island and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me in the middle of the kitchen, only to be interrupted by the timer sounding the alarm. The emotional weight from seconds before dissipated when he pulled away to check on the chicken, but I haven’t forgotten the look in his eyes when he said.Somewhere safe. What did that mean?
Walking through the foyer into the living room, I find him standing at the top of the stairs just outside his office. He’s dressed in his gym clothes, but he doesn’t look like he’s even broken a sweat. I offered for him to join me at the NextGen center, but he said he needed to get some work done before he could hit the weights, including a podcast interview.
“Sorry, I’m late. I had to run by the condo. Grab some stuff for the road next week,” I say, lifting the bag of extra clothes and a change of ring gear options I had picked up at my condo.
“How was the gym?”
“Rae came by. We got some ring time in. I got to work on that new submission move.” I drop my bag onto the window bench of the master bedroom, returning to find him now at the bottom of the stairs. He pulls me into a hard kiss, and my suspicions are confirmed when I inhale the fresh scent of his skin. Pulling away, I pinch the fabric of his shirt. “I thought you were going to work out?”
“I was about to, but Ari called.” I don’t know much about his sister, or the rest of his family, for that matter. They don’t talk much—not on the phone anyway. He and Ari text a few times a week, catching each other up on necessary information, but never anything long and drawn out. I’ve wondered if that’s how they are in person, too. If that’s how the whole family is. John is cautious when it comes to things concerning the rest of the Brookses, and the one time I asked Brody, he said it wasn’t his place to tell.
“How is she?”
“Fine, fine. She was inviting me to the joint birthday party for my mom and grandmother,” John says, sinking onto the brown leather L-shaped couch. She invitedhim, not us. “Mom is turning sixty, and our grandmother will be eighty-five. Everyone is going to be there, apparently, which doesn’t happen often, but I suppose the matriarch turning eighty-five is good enough reason.”
“I suppose it is,” I say, sitting at the far end of the L’s stem.
“They’re planning it for Friday and Saturday before Wrestlefest week.”
“That will be a great way for you to decompress.”
His eyes narrow, and he chuckles, pushing up from his spot on the couch to sit beside me. “I think we’re having two different conversations here, Sweetheart. I want you there with me. Of course, if you think it will be too much, seeing as the next week is going to be extremely busy, I understand. You’re welcome to come back and stay here, get some rest, and I’ll meet you in Phoenix.”
“You want me to go?” I ask. He wants me to meet his family? And not just his immediate family, he wants me to meet the whole family? This seems out of the blue, considering he’s hardly told me anything about these people.
“You don’t have to if—”
“It’s not that I don’twantto go, John. I—I do. My concern is that I don’t know anything about them. We’ve known each other for a long time, but I know nothing about these people. I don’t even know their names, except for Ari.” I run a hand over my hair, twisting the end of my ponytail before letting it fall over my shoulder again. “John, you know my family. You’ve met them, talked to them…but you’ve kept everything about your family a secret. The only thing I know for sure is you have a sister, and you would move Heaven and Earth to protect her. You told me that much the night we met.”
His gaze remains glued to the blue-gray rug beneath the circular glass coffee table. John rubs the back of his neck before his hand comes down to interlace his fingers together. They hang between his knees, and with a heavy sigh, he finally looks up at me. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like I was trying to keep things from you. I just…When it comes to my family, I don’t—”
