by Nana Malone
He handled smaller segments on politicians, movie stars and up and comers. He brought the sincerity and humor to humanize his subjects. But then little miss big tits and fuck me eyes had started to step in on his territory.
He rolled his shoulders as he hit the replay. He hadn’t meant to throw the first pitch in their war. Yeah right. He'd been so preoccupied with her that he'd been desperate to do something to get her out of his head. He figured if she quit, then he wouldn’t have to think about her anymore. Yeah, good luck with that.
He may have suggested that their coverage of the hurricane in Florida needed her special touch. And she might have heard that the suggestion for the assignment came from him.
The hurricane had been a category three and there she'd been, in the whipping rain, umbrella upside down, galoshes and her raincoat blowing open, plastering that white shirt to her perfect tits, pebbling her nipples.
That image had been burned into his mental spank bank for months after that. For every other man in America too because her popularity had skyrocketed through the roof.
But she hadn't just taken that shot and lay down. As payback, she'd stolen his interview with the actress Moira Dunn. Jaggar had "accidentally” walked into the greenroom and introduced herself. The two of them had talked chocolate and periods together probably. Next thing he knew, Moira was requesting for her to go on air and interview her too. And given Moira donated a lot of money to back Senator Driftin's campaign, and rumor was she was his lover, she was a hot topic. No way he wanted to share his interview with Jaggar.
TVN wanted her on the air. And she wanted Jaggar. As a result, he’d shared the stage with her. That shit pissed him off. Especially since he'd been fucking distracted the whole segment.
They'd been volleying back and forth ever since. He'd made sure she got the bitchiest assignments and she'd gotten on stage with him and clued his interviewees to questions he was going to ask.
"You realize that staring at her isn’t going to magically make her fuck you, right?"
Griffin scowled before turning his back to his laptop and staring at his friend and long time cameraman, Will Sumpton. "Shut it. I don’t want to fuck her."
Will grabbed a chair in his minuscule office and plopped into it. "Everyone is talking about it. That girl is fucking hot. You'd be the only guy in here not thinking about fucking her."
Griffin rolled his eyes. "The girl has been here a year. As far as we can tell, no one's managed to get there yet. Doesn't she have a boyfriend? Hell, for all we know, she might not be into dudes."
Will sat up straight, eyes going wide and alert. "You think she might be into ... " His voice trailed off and he winked.
Griffin could only shake his head. Will might be one of his friends, but shit, the guy thought with his dick ninety percent of the time. "No, dumb ass. But she's probably not interested."
Griffin didn’t know her well, other than the fact that he liked to fight with her. Other than she was saccharine sweet to everyone, except him. But as friendly as she was to the guys, she was friendlier with the women. As if she was well aware of the perception of a single woman who looked like her. Like she was cultivating the right message. ‘Hey, I'm likable, but not that likeable.’ He'd seen her graciously turn down dates. Whenever someone asked her out, she instantly made it a group thing and invited lots of other girls around. She never initiated.
Also, TVN had a hell of a sexual harassment policy. There was a shit ton of hoops to jump through to avoid any hint of impropriety. Newsrooms of old used to be a hotbed of sexual harassment. TVN didn't play around these days. People that wanted to date had to be really fucking sure about it. Would you jump through those hoops? For her? No. Fuck no. Shit. He really had to get the girl out of his head.
Griffin changed the subject. She'd already occupied more brain space today than could be healthy. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have to be on shift for Rebecca?" Rebecca Miller was their foreign news correspondent.
"Yeah, I’m up there in thirty. Just came to wish you luck on the Friday Night Weekender gig."
Griffin leaned back. "Thanks, but it's no big deal." Fuck that, it was a huge deal. He'd worked hard to get up to that spot. He’d gone through several rounds of intensive interviews for the last several months. On air testing. It was a new show they were launching and he wanted this bad. Maybe it would be his chance at an Emmy. Something he could really be proud of. Maybe even a Peabody. Something his father would have been really proud of.
"Yeah man, you just keep being cool and shit. I know you want it."
"I do want it. But it's about doing what I need to do. Follow the plan. Be diligent, patient. You get where you're going eventually."
Over the last couple of years with the network, he'd been on the fast track. He was young so that didn’t help. On camera, Americans want someone they could count on, someone they could believe in. Not someone who looked like a frat boy. He did things to age himself up. Nothing flashy, his haircut, his suits — nothing too cutting edge. It helped. And the more people saw him, the more they trusted him.
"I'll give you that. You're a patient fuck."
He grinned. "That I am. I'll get what I want. No matter how long it takes." The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. There was a fast paced click-clack coming this way down the hall. Jaggar.
Just thinking her name was like a beacon to his dick.
Jaggar's pace didn't slow and Griffin held his breath. He willed himself not to look up. Do not look at her. She's like a vampire. Do not look at her.
If he looked, he wouldn’t be able to look away for far too long and she'd know she had him. Instead, he stared at his monitor.
She didn’t even slow as she passed his office. That was how she walked — in a hurry everywhere. When she wasn’t on camera, she also talked a mile a minute. It required that you be sharp when dealing with her. She might not have stopped, but she did call out a hello ... to Will. "Hey, Will. Great camera work on the Anderson piece. I didn’t get to tell you last week."
Silas Anderson, the racecar driver. Griffin's fucking segment and she was congratulating Will? His hands curled and he clenched his teeth. Being irritated with her is only going to work against you. But he couldn’t help it. She drove him batshit.
Will smiled a thank you. Traitor. "Thanks, Jaggar. Great job on the club thing."
She snorted. "Thanks, I think. The whole world saw me land on my ass, but I recovered which is all that matters."
Griffin could feel her dark eyes on him and his skin prickled. Don’t do it, don’t do it. But like a fool he looked up as she stepped into her office. Their gazes locked for a second before she click-clacked inside and closed her door. But not before he got a spectacular view of her ass. Dick, hard.
Fuck.
Will laughed. "Dude, why can’t you guys let shit go? I don't know what happened with you two, but c'mon. It's been a year already. She’ll pay you back for today."
Griffin couldn’t give a fuck. "Yeah well, she's welcome to try. Besides, she said it herself. She recovered. No doubt making the world love her and her clumsy ass more."
Will checked his watch and jumped up. "Man, do you ever let anything go?"
"Not a chance."
His friend rolled his eyes. "Makes you a good reporter for sure, but damn, must make you crazy at night."
"I sleep just fine." Will laughed as he strolled out of Griffin's office.
The phone rang and Griffin frowned at it. Unknown number.
"Hello, this is Griffin."
“Griffin, it's Tanya.”
Fuck. The guilt, slithery and slippery, wound its way around his spine, oozing into his cells.
"Hey, Tanya, your name didn’t come up."
"Yeah, I know. Listen, can you come by after work? I was hoping we could talk."
He knew where this was headed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” The last time they’d talked, they’d ended up naked and it hadn't been good for either o
f them.
She sighed. “I just need someone to talk to.”
“Tans, I’m sorry, but I don't think I can be that person.”
“You owe me this. You’re the one who dumped me for no reason. You say there was no one else, but you won’t give me a reason. You owe it to talk it through with me until I’ve got closure.”
And this was where he’d gone wrong. He felt guilty for his damn body being so into Jaggar so he fed into this closure myth. But he needed to cut the ties because it certainly wasn’t doing Tanya any good. He felt guilty so when she called — which was a lot — he answered.
If he looked closely enough, he'd see that he needed to be needed by her, to assuage the guilt. She had no one and she hadn’t taken the break up well.
Their relationship was never supposed to be long term, but she was always just sort of there and she became his de facto. So, he'd become too lazy to break up with her, but then she'd started talking marriage and kids and she'd had an apparent miscarriage. That shit had terrified him. He wasn’t ready for that, and she was. So … Guilt.
“Tanya, I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“I’d feel better if you just told me who she was. If you just told me the reason we broke up.”
He wasn’t doing this. Not again. It would get them nowhere. And how did he explain that he broke up with her for someone he’d never have?
He shoved the thought aside. “Listen, I have a meeting. I have to run."
“I need fucking ans—”
He cut the call. Sooner or later he was going to have to figure out a way to deal with her better. He didn’t want to just ghost her. That felt wrong.
Across the hall, Jaggar opened her door and she smirked at him. The red blouse and skirt combo she wore hugged every single curve. The stupid thing probably wasn't meant to be sexy. She was covered from neck to knee, but somehow she managed to make it look like sin draped on her body. And then the fucking shoes. Black with a red zipper going down the back, and the telltale red bottom signaling that the mouthwatering things hadn’t come cheap.
His phone rang again and it was Tanya. Damn. He ignored it and grabbed his laptop.
Jaggar raised her brow. "Who's the unfortunate girl who’s chasing you? It seems she doesn’t have any taste."
He gave her a winning smile. "Don’t you wish it were you?"
"Nope." She winked at him and his dick twitched.
Fucker, focus. We don’t like her remember? His dick twitched again, as if to say, speak for yourself.
"I've already done my charity work for the week," she added.
One way or another, he had to be rid of Jaggar Jakes before he lost his damn mind.
3
Jaggar might hate everything about Griffin Styles, but her body sure didn't. As she walked down the hallway, she was well aware of him, of his body heat. It was so damn inconvenient that he was hot. Well, there was no accounting for good looks. "You're very sweet, but you don’t have to escort me to the elevator."
"I have a meeting, princess. Some of us have real work to do."
There it was again. The idea that she somehow hadn't worked her ass off to get here. That she had somehow coasted. Where did he get that from? He'd hated her from the instant she showed up and she'd always wondered why.
They stepped into the elevator and were quickly joined by three other people. They adopted the appropriate elevator behavior, face front, nod to those you know, but shut the fuck up.
On the next floor, five more people stepped in and everyone jostled to make room, with the sounds of “Fourth floor please,” and “Please hit number five for me.” She was pressed into him.
The next floor made it worse because she was right up against him, nowhere to run with his cologne wafting and circling around her, making her crazy. Making her want things ... all the things, all the dirty things.
She could feel his breath at her right ear and she couldn’t help the slight shiver. Why did Mr. Walking Sex-On-A-Stick have to be such an asshole? It hardly seemed fair.
On the next floor, two people left, but then three more stepped on. And that was it: she was pressed so close to him they might as well have merged bodies. Or be having sex. Damn.
She would not think about having sex with Griffin Styles. She wouldn’t wish that judgmental, condemning expression on her worst enemy.
Jaggar held herself absolutely still, trying everything she could in order not to touch him. But it was pretty impossible with them packed in so closely. The guy in front of her shifted to pull his phone out and bumped into her ... which meant she bumped into all six feet of gorgeous, insanely sexy, Griffin.
She felt rather than heard his sharp gasp as her ass came into direct contact with his crotch. Neither one of them moved, breathed or so much as twitched.
But then she felt something. And maybe it was an unconscious response to the jostling. Maybe he’d meant to do it, but normally, he avoided touching her as much as she avoided touching him.
But today, his hand automatically went to her waist to steady her. Her core tightened and she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud while her body melted, her core going slick and wet in preparation.
Against her ass, she felt the hard, thick rise of his erection. Holy hell. Griffin Styles was packing all kinds of heat. The kind of heat that made women lose their minds.
If anyone dared to ask her about it later, she'd deny it, but her body subconsciously knew what to do. She knew to incline her torso just so, thereby pressing her ass further against him. His low muttered curse in her ear was enough to make her body shake.
What was she doing? She hated him. He hated her. They hated each other. But in that moment Jaggar knew two things: Griffin Styles was hung like a porn star and he wanted her. As much as she wanted him. Too bad he was such an asshole because she had a strict ‘we need to at least like each other to fuck’ policy. Not to mention they worked together. And well, the whole asshole thing again. You already said that. Well, it was weighted extra.
But, in the locked moments of that elevator when they were cocooned by all those people, they stood in their own little world. Their harsh breaths mingling as she made tiny incremental movements with her ass on his dick.
His hand tightened on her hips. Flexing and unflexing.
What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing? Her brain screamed and railed, but as the elevator stopped and two people escaped the sardine can, giving them just that little bit of breathing room, they stayed locked in their position, cocooned by lust and need and the promise of something dirty and mind blowing.
Another two people made their escape and her brain tried desperately to drag her body away from their dirty dancing position. It wasn’t until the elevator approached the fourth floor, where most of the people were trying to get off that she made the conscious effort to step away. She even managed a countdown. Move your ass Jaggar in three, two, one ...
In the same instant, they both let go, breaking that sensual hold on one another. As everyone escaped the confines of the hot box, Griffin and Jaggar kept to their sparring corners, neither one of them looking at the other, just up at the floor numbers going up, until they were alone.
Neither one of them spoke. They just exited as if they hadn’t just done the riskiest and sexiest thing she'd ever done in her life.
Jaggar had never been so relieved to leave the confines of an elevator in her life. What had they done? Okay so maybe it was the equivalent of heavy petting, so not the end of the world, but it had felt so much more intense than that.
As she walked towards her meeting, she could feel his presence behind her. His confident strides. The sure fall of his feet. She spent a good amount of time watching the man walk. Even though his gaze was always intense and focused, the walk was pure, arrogant, fucktard swagger.
He knew he was good looking. He knew the effect he had on men and women alike. No Ken doll news reporter here. He came with anatomical parts and all.
And one day, when she was all a
lone with her thoughts, she was going to mentally examine those parts. Stop it Jaggar, get your shit together. The managing producer and execs want to meet with you. You can’t have ass-turd on the brain when you're in there.
But as she made turn for turn, he matched her steps. Finally, she stopped and turned, causing him to bump into her. For a split second, their bodies lined up just so, and damned if this way wasn’t even hotter.
"What the hell, Jaggar?" His thick, dark brows snapped down into a frown.
"Stop following me."
"Sorry to bust your bubble princess, but I’m not following you. I'm headed to a meeting."
She stepped back. "Well, you’re too close."
His gaze swept over her body, reminding her of just how close they'd been seconds ago. She saw the hunger in his gaze. And the heat. Unfortunately, she also saw the disdain. This is Griffin, girl. Don’t ever forget it.
She whipped back around and deliberately slowed her step to give her ass a little sway. She could have sworn she heard a muttered curse behind her and she smiled to herself.
She made the final turn down toward the Managing Director's office and he still followed her. "Stalker much, Griffin?"
"What are you getting at, Jaggar? I have a fucking meeting with Ryan right now.”
She stopped for the second time and scowled at him. "Don’t be a jackass. I have a meeting with Ryan." His brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed out."Maybe Christmas is coming early this year and you're being transferred and Ryan wants me to watch."
"Dream on, Styles. I'm here to stay. You’re just going to have to deal with me showing you up."
He laughed and the sound was smooth and rich. "Is that what you call diving head first for a stripper pole? Somehow I think my position with the network is safe from you."
When they arrived at Ryan's office, her stomach twisted. This couldn't be good news. Maybe she really had screwed up this morning. She'd done her best to recover but maybe it just wasn’t enough. And she and Ryan weren't on the best of terms. Not since her first week here. Without warning a flash of memory invaded her mind.
