Grasping Air (Flipped Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  All of it learned and ingrained on my soul, like a snug pair of jeans that I only had to slip back into. That life of masks and trickery, of getting men to like you because you say the perfect things, wear the perfect dress. I feel cheap and disgusted with myself. Why would I do that? I’m sure that’s Jared’s number one question. And I know why.

  And now he will too.

  We walk into my room, dark with only the bedside lamp left on.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I figure I’ll be polite.

  “Don’t stall, Peyton. Just say what you need to say.”

  Fuck, he’s pissed and moody now. I have to remind myself I like his stoicism, even if it’s making me feel all kinds of guilt right now. He’s right to be mad, but I hope he’ll change his outlook when I explain how my life has gone thus far.

  “Have I ever told you about my mom?” I move to sit on the bed and wave him down, but he stays standing.

  “Only that she lives in New Hampshire and you don’t talk much.”

  I look away, old scars and cuts opening inside of me where I’ve tried so hard to stitch them shut. “I grew up in New Hampshire … and we were dirt poor. No dad, just me and my single mom. I can’t remember her ever doing anything other than cleaning people’s houses or businesses. She was a maid, probably still is but I wouldn’t know. And she drank. A lot.”

  I take a breath and chance a look over at Jared. When I don’t start speaking again right away, he moves to the desk chair and sits backwards on it. His fists are balled over the back of the chair, his big body dwarfing it. All I want to do is walk to him and cuddle in his lap, but I know right now he would freeze up like a corpse.

  “Her life, to her, was set. She never tried to improve her circumstances. She let people treat her like dirt, and then she’d drink a handle and treat me like dirt. There was never any abuse, maybe some verbal but that was it. It was the lack of love that really made me who I am today. She never hugged me, never kissed me, never told me she was proud of me or that she wanted a better life for me. I was an afterthought, a burden she was strapped with. I didn’t grow up like you, Jared. I didn’t have a mom and a dad who loved me, I didn’t have brothers and sisters who taught me how to play and share.”

  His handsome, rugged face is softening, I see it even while he tries to maintain his scowl. While telling him about my past is like flaying open my heart, it’s also healing both of us. Jared is about to understand me on a level I haven’t shown to anyone.

  “And then I found gymnastics. I was finally good at something, praised for something. And I was really good, without having to even try. Coaches adored me, I was the top of my squad. I’d never been singled out for anything in a healthy way. And so I pushed myself. I fed on the compliments and praise I got, steered my personality and talent toward what I thought coaches wanted. And when I was old enough to realize it … what the crowd wanted. What the teenage boys who would come to meets wanted. I performed and they adored. This sport and the audience, the people who paid me attention … that was the first time I truly felt loved. It wasn’t until recently that I realized the sort of love I was accustomed to wasn’t even love at all. It was fake, phony. It was infatuation; with the face I put on, the personality I’d adopted because I thought it was what people wanted. All the men, the things I did for them, that was me advancing my place in the world the only way I knew how.”

  Jared moves closer now, walking to the bed and sitting on the other side of it. His demeanor has completely changed, and I know he wants to touch me. But I’m not ready, and I wave him off a bit. I need to get it all out.

  “That’s how I learned ‘love.’ No one ever taught me the right way, not until you in London. You tried to show me, but it was all too fast. Too scary. If I had to be that vulnerable, give up that much of myself … I just wasn’t willing to do it yet. I went back to my old ways, fake me for cheap affection. But after you showed me everything we could have, even if it was just a tiny taste … I couldn’t go back. Everything that used to make me feel good, made me feel depressed. I wasn’t living, not really. And then we were together again. Are together. I love you, Jared, more than anything I’ve ever had in my life. You’ve shown me what real love looks like, and I can never go back to how it used to be. But … sometimes I’m going to slip up. Especially now, when we’ve only been back together for a few weeks. I’m not perfect; you wouldn’t love me if I was. You like the complicated mess that I am. So if I slip back into old Peyton, you have to be bossy Jared. Make me kiss you; take a hold of my hand. Do all of the domineering things that made me fall in love with you in the first place.”

  Now he does touch me, pulls me across the bed and into his arms until I’m cradled in his lap with my head tucked under his chin. Tears roll silently down my face at the relief and heartache swarming me. I’ve finally done it, confessed it all to someone. It’s both a shock and cathartic.

  “Baby … I had … I had no idea. I don’t even know what to say.” He hugs me closer.

  “You don’t have to say anything.” A yawn rips through me, and I’m suddenly bone tired.

  Jared lays us down, fully clothed, on top of the covers. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry that you ever had to go through any of it. You’re so incredible, and maybe … maybe you had to wait for me to notice it. Because no one could possibly see just how incredible you are until I did. Because like I’ve said before, you were made for me. I love you, Peyton. And I’m going to keep on loving you even when you fight me. Even when I’m pissed and jealous. I love you. I love you.”

  He kisses my forehead. My eyelids. My nose. And finally my lips.

  It’s the last thing I remember before the world blissfully goes dark.

  26

  Jared

  “You’re still pulling your shoulder.”

  Peyton smirks at me, preening as she disses my double twisting, double layout.

  “I have to agree, Miss Priss. Your man here can’t tumble for shit.” Duke fist bumps her as he takes off for his tumbling pass.

  Those two taking cracks at me only makes me laugh. It’s the fact that it’s in the middle of our matinee performance that makes me almost burst out laughing. Peyton and Duke approach the sport with the same light-heartedness that gymnasts like Natalia and I just don’t have. They can laugh and joke through our performance on tour as if there isn’t a twenty thousand plus crowd watching their every move.

  “Can you focus please?” I’m annoyed but also shrug off their jabs. I know they’re joking, but sometimes I wish I could be as fun as them.

  “Excuse us, Mr. Order. We’ll keep it serious for the crowd.” Duke waves and the crowd roars before he goes out for yet another series of insane front tumbling skills.

  “Does he know just how much control you like to keep in the bedroom?” Peyton sidles up to me and bumps me with her hip.

  The crowd can see everything we’re doing, all of the athletes out on the floor exercise for the tumbling portion of the performance. We’re just throwing passes willy-nilly; back tucks, front tucks, full, double full, double layouts, Rudy’s. Whatever you feel like in that moment. Some of the girls are doing full twisting jumps and leaps that take up the whole floor, things that I’d never be able to do for fear of my nuts ripping apart.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper harshly at her.

  It was just a day ago that we had our big talk, that I blew up at her in that club. Los Angeles has been trying on us, and now she wants to joke around at our last show in the Staples Center.

  “Living in the present, just like I do best.” Peyton gives me the biggest Cheshire cat smile.

  And then, in front of the crowd, in front of the TV cameras, in front of all of our friends … she kisses me. Just pushes up on her toes, wraps her arms around my neck, and melds her hot, wet lips to mine.

  I’m a little shocked at first, stumbling around on the blue carpet under my feet. But that doesn’t deter Peyton. No, she just jumps up and wraps her legs around m
e, a position that I’ve only just recently had the pleasure of fucking her in. My cock remembers just how hot it was, the way I’d pressed her up against a hotel room wall and pinned her like my own wet dream sex doll. She slides her tongue into my mouth and moans, obviously something the roaring, screaming crowd can’t hear. But I do. And it makes me bite her lip, roll the skin between my teeth.

  “You two are … together?!” James’ mouth is open in disbelief when we finally stop making out.

  Peyton nods and waves to the crowd, and I can only do the same as I set her on her feet, my arm still holding her around the waist. Girls are shrieking all around the arena, cameras are going off like crazy.

  “I guess the cats out of the bag.” She smiles up at me, a lazy, heated smile spreading slowly across her face.

  This woman will always keep me on my toes. Two nights ago, she didn’t introduce me to her former whatever he was as her boyfriend. We had a huge, emotional talk and woke up in our clothes on top of her hotel bed at nine in the morning. We’d made frenzied, animal love … tearing at each other’s clothes until we got off the most vital parts so that I could shove inside of her until she bit so hard down on my neck I saw stars.

  And today, she’s scheduled our coming out party without even sending me an invite. She is crazy and spontaneous, but I know she’ll be there for me through everything. Loving Peyton is like trying a new skill. You’re uncomfortable and excited, nervous as all hell that you’ll land flat on your face. But … you also know that you’ll do it successfully if you just believe you can. If you just give in to the process, trust your mind and your heart, everything will turn out just right.

  And I know it will. She’s there to keep me guessing, and I’m here to make sure she stays just outside the lines. She’d never color inside of them, but I can at least keep her from straying too far.

  “You’re insane. I love you.” I shake my head and lay another kiss on her forehead.

  The rest of the show goes well, as have all of the shows on the tour. A few minor missteps, a fall here or there … but overall we’ve done our jobs well.

  Our friends swarm us as we all push through the tunnel doors.

  “What the hell?”

  “I knew it!”

  “Have you two fucked on the bus?”

  “Do you even like each other?”

  The questions rain down, and I just can’t stop laughing at the absurdity of the last few minutes.

  “You two. Follow me. Now.” Gail stomps past us, her heels clicking and clacking on the tile of the hallway behind the stadium.

  Our teammates all do the obligatory “ohhhhh” as if we’re being called to the principal’s office. Peyton shoots me a worried glance, and that’s when I start to worry. My stomach isn’t settling, and even though I didn’t break a sweat during the last part of the performance, I feel a trail of slickness trickle down my spine.

  Gail ushers us into what looks like an unused dressing room in the long stadium hall of doors, her face pinched and unkind. As soon as the latch catches on the lock, she rips into us.

  “You two are dating?! What in the ever loving fuck? Did anyone want to tell me this before you went out in front of all of Los Angeles and shoved your tongues down each other’s throats?”

  I’m about to answer with a contrite, serious explanation. Until I hear my girlfriend crack up into giggles.

  “Are you kidding me, Gail? You’re the one who decided that we should be paired together because, and I quote, ‘it’s what the crowd wants.’ And now you’re going to make a fuss about us being together? What’s the big fucking deal?”

  I lace my fingers through Peyton’s and feel her strength and virility race through me. “I agree. Who cares if we’re dating? If anything, it should draw a larger crowd.”

  Gail throws her hands up and pulls her phone out. “Have you even seen Twitter? Who cares, you ask? Everyone in the fucking Western world apparently. Teenage girls everywhere are openly crying on their Instagram. Creepy old men are mourning the loss of Peyton’s ass on Snapchat. People love sexual tension. But they hate happy couples. You ever wonder why everyone roots for Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling to be a couple, even though he’s practically married with children to another woman? Because they have great sexual chemistry. Now, if they were actually together? Everyone would fucking hate her. She’d get death threats, I’m not joking.”

  My grip on Peyton’s hand tightens, because I know now that while Gail may be over-exaggerating, she isn’t being completely irrational. We were in the public spotlight; we might not be as big as some other athletes but in gymnastics, we were two of the top names. They’d both been in magazines, in national media outlets, on TV. I know there are fans out there who wanted to date me, or sink their claws in, simply because I had some fame and was an athlete. I never thought of myself like that, but now that Gail is talking about the harm it could bring Peyton, I’m all ears.

  “You two should probably not be seen together. Don’t tell anyone you’re dating. You never officially said it, so all the media outlets will be able to do is speculate.”

  I’m about to agree, although sneaking around will suck. But again, my woman beats me to the punch.

  “Fuck that. FUCK that. No. We have waited too long to be together, and if all I have to do is fight off a punk teen or two to keep Jared, I’m in. I’m not fake, I refuse to mask who I truly am or who I truly love for any longer.”

  Gail looks as if Peyton has slapped her. Peyton drags me to the door and all I can do is follow, stunned and amused at her show of defiance.

  “Oh, and if the media asks, you can let them know we fuck like animals and love each other more than ice cream sundaes with extra fudge.”

  27

  Peyton

  “You won’t fuck me harder …”

  I lick Jared’s earlobe, sweat gathering on my tongue before I chuckle hoarsely into his ear.

  He’s got me on my back on the carpet of some hotel room in Arizona, the short fibers digging into my spine. His hands pin my wrists back, leaving me with nothing to do but wrap my legs all the way around his back and hold on while he plunges slowly, torture-speed slow, into me.

  My teeth and dirty talk were the only weapons I could throw at him. “I said, you won’t fuck me harder.”

  All I see are glittering brown eyes laughing at me as he continues his lazy assault on my body. His cock is so hard and hot that I feel it throb deep inside of me each time he finally seats himself all the way to his balls. Jared won’t answer me, and I know he’s only going to keep slowly building me toward orgasm until I erupt underneath him. And I’m close, so close.

  Sweat pops on my brow, every nerve ending raw with feeling. His cock is reaching into me and winding me up so tightly, that I’m going to break apart into tiny pieces any second now.

  “You’re evil.”

  Finally, I get that raspy growl. “And you’re insane. You drive me insane. So I’m going to drive you insane.”

  The grip on my wrists tighten, and the bite of pain causes my walls to spasm with pleasure. His hips rut against mine as he grinds, his tip rubbing against my G-spot. I arch my back into him, trying to milk every last ounce of feeling.

  “Please, Jared. I’m so close.” My voice is needy, it doesn’t even come from my throat. I’m never needy, but right now, in this moment, he has me exactly where he wants me. Begging.

  “And who do you come for?”

  He picks up speed, skin slapping against skin, sending me into a headlong tailspin.

  “You. Only ever you.”

  Jared grunts his agreement and starts pushing inside of me like he’s trying to brand the inside of me with his dick. I start to chant, right there, right there, right there. And then Jared brushes against my G-spot again and I’m falling through space and time. My vision blurs and all of my muscles contract and then relax, pushing out to every fingertip and toe as my orgasm rips through me.

  Jared keeps hammering, driving me into the floor as
he smashes his lips to mine. Far off I hear a growl, through the ringing in my ears. His musky scent fills my nostrils as the sound travels from his mouth down my throat. And then he starts to shudder, plunging his cock deeper than I’d ever thought it could go, like he’s reaching for my heart.

  “Fuck, Peyton.”

  I know when he curses that it’s really good. Too good for him to even mind his manners.

  Jared heaves a few breaths into my neck while he readjusts to the world, both of us taking a moment to collect ourselves.

  “That was …”

  “I know.”

  Because I do. Every single time I think that. That was out of this world. Not of this planet. It doesn’t make sense that such a serious man and such a wild woman could come together and burn hotter than a supernova. But we do.

  Jared shifts so that he’s not putting all of his weight on me, and I gladly go into his arms on the carpet.

  “Should we get in the bed?” He runs a fingertip down my nose.

  “Nah, this is sexier.” I wiggle farther across the carpet to press right up against him.

  He strokes my back in long, soothing motions and I breathe in the delicious scent of his post-sex skin.

  “Do you think we should be worried about what Gail said?”

  This again. He’s been worried about it for a week, and even when he doesn’t voice it, I can hear the gears grinding away in his brain. I personally think Gail is over exaggerating, but there has been some social media backlash. But, there are also a lot of people cheering us on, loving our love story.

  “Will you please stop harping on this? We’re fine. We’re in love. In a few weeks, it will all die down. Who the hell are we anyway, but two gymnasts who made it to the Summer Games and achieved some noteworthy accomplishments? It’s not like we’re Brad and Angie. Please, stop thinking about it.”