Page 28 of False Start, Real Passion

He returns a few minutes later and his hand finds the small of my back, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress. “Care to dance?”

I know what happened last time and I did not want to go through that again. But, before I can protest, he’s steering me toward the dance floor. The band strikes up a slow, sultry tune, and Jaxon pulls me close, one hand sliding dangerously low on my waist.

“Jaxon,” I warn, but my voice comes out breathy and unconvincing.

He smirks down at me, those blue eyes glinting in the soft lighting. “Just a dance.”

But it doesn’t feel like just a dance. Not with the way his body molds to mine, the way his fingers trace idle patterns on my hip. Not with the way my heart is pounding out a staccato rhythm against my ribs.

Jaxon leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “We should talk about the cabin.”

“No, we should not talk about the cabin.”

He ignores my comment. “I enjoyed it. I know you did to.”

I catch my breath, heat flooding my cheeks. I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out.

“You know how I knew you enjoyed it? The sheets were all wet.”

Before I can process my scrambled thoughts, a voice cuts through the music. “Jaxon! Tori! A quick word?”

It’s a sports reporter, his press badge glinting under the chandeliers. He corners us at the edge of the dance floor.

“Jaxon, there’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship with Tori,” he starts, eyes darting between us. “Some are saying it’s just a PR stunt to clean up your image. Care to comment?”

My stomach drops. This is it, the moment of truth. I brace myself for Jaxon’s usual playful deflection, the wink and grin that always accompanies his non-answers about us.

But Jaxon surprises me. He loops an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. “Tori and I, we’re the real deal,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “She’s not just my publicist. She’s my partner, in every sense of the word.”

The reporter’s eyebrows shoot up. I’m pretty sure mine do too. Partner? In every sense of the word? What is Jaxon playing at?

But he’s not done. “I know my reputation precedes me,” he continues, his grip tightening on my hip. “But Tori... she’s different. She’s changing me, man. For the better. She is everything to me.”

The reporter scribbles furiously in his notebook, a gleam of triumph in his eye. He’s got his scoop, the sound bite that will dominate the sports pages tomorrow.

I should be thrilled. This is exactly the kind of positive press we’ve been angling for. But all I can focus on is the warm, solid weight of Jaxon’s arm around me, the sincerity ringing in his words.

Was any of that real? Or was it just another masterful performance, a play for the cameras?

My head is spinning as the reporter thanks us and moves on, already tapping out the story on his phone. Jaxon turns to me, a question in his eyes.

But before he can say anything, I step out of his embrace, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I... I need some air,” I manage, my voice shaking.

I walk away on unsteady legs, desperately trying to ignore the heat of Jaxon’s gaze on my retreating back.

***

The cool night air hits my flushed skin as I push through the doors and onto the balcony. I grip the railing, taking deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

What the hell just happened in there?

Jaxon’s words replay in my mind. “She’s everything to me.” The conviction in his voice, the way he looked at me... it felt real. Too real.

But that’s impossible. This is Jaxon Reid we’re talking about. The playboy quarterback, the media darling. He doesn’t do real.

And I don’t do complications. I’m here to do a job, to repair his image, not to fall for his charms.

I hear the door open behind me, and I know it’s him before he even speaks.

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