A/N - Well, well, well. 2022. I just can't seem to shake these two lol. My last update was Dec 2020 so yeah. 2 years. Sorry about that. Consider this the follow up to Take Me Home so you can read that first but you don't have to. If I ever get around to it, there might even be a second chapter of this but I promise nothing!
So young and full of running…All the way to the edge of desire…Steady my breathing…Silently screaming…I have to have you now…Don't say a word…Just come over and lie here with me…'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see…I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe…
"Hello…..hel…..hello?" Stephanie clutched the phone to her ear and shoved her way through the throng of people blocking the hallway. It was Thursday night but the clubs were packed regardless. WWF was in Boston for Smackdown at the weekend but she decided to come early and see some friends from college. It had been so long since she did anything away from wrestling and it was a welcome change of pace. No work, no annoying dad, no overbearing wrestlers, no…him. "Is anybody there?"
A muffled voice was all she could make out. "Hello?" She continued walking, spying a door past the restrooms that would hopefully take her somewhere quiet. Success! The thumping music immediately turned into a dull ambience. She pulled the door closed after stepping into the small supply closet. "Hello?" she said again, certain that whoever it was had long since hung up by now. But the deep voice on the other end of the line startled her.
"Hey! Is this a bad time?"
Shit. Fuck.
She absently ran a hand through her hair and ignored the way her breath quickened. "Paul…hi! What's…I'm surprised to hear from you."
"A good surprise I hope?"
"Always."
"Such a flirt, Steph."
"You're the one who called me."
"Right. I did call you."
"What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just…I came here early. To Boston I mean. For Smackdown. I was wondering…"
She cut him off, breath now hitched in her throat. "You're here?" she squeaked.
He was in Boston? Did he know she was? Is that why he had come? Is that why he was calling!? "
"Where?"
"Boston?"
"Yeah."
Paul was confused. "Wait. Are you here?"
"Yes," she giggled, hardly able to contain her delight at the situation. He was here. The majority of the crew and roster wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow. "I came to visit some friends from college."
"Is that right? Where are you?"
Stephanie twirled a strand of hair around her finger, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm out."
"Out where?"
"A club." It was on the tip of her tongue to invite him to join her but that would be the opposite of what she wanted. Triple H in a god damned nightclub would attract huge attention. The man was probably one of the most hated people in the country at the moment. He could go nowhere without being mobbed and heckled from kids to grandparents alike. No. If she was brave enough to see him it most definitely would not be in public.
Paul settled into the comfy chair of his hotel balcony overlooking Boston's Back Bay and let his imagination run wild. "Stephanie McMahon out clubbing with her college friends huh? What I wouldn't give to see that."
The way he said it made her insides melt. She could hear the smirk in his voice. What she wouldn't give to show him. "Maybe you should come take a look then."
Silence.
Paul knew he was probably breathing heavily down the phone like some creep but he was getting dangerously close to accepting one of her flippant offers. And there had been quite a few since they first spoke about her going home with him at the WWF New York opening a few weeks ago. As a joke of course. Always as a joke. It could only ever be as a joke.
"Paul?"
He shut his eyes and took a slow even breath. "Maybe you should describe it to me."
Stephanie was relieved to hear him speak again, terrified that she had pushed him too far this time. But what was too far? Really. What was too far for two people who knew they could never cross the line?
"What are you wearing?"
Clearly he didn't seem to care about crossing lines tonight. Stephanie let out a soft grunt, letting herself teeter on the edge of making a decision. It was taken from her when she heard a light snicker in her ear. "What's so funny?"
"Me and that lame ass line I just used on you."
It was her turn to snicker. "It was pretty lame but…I thought it sounded sexy coming from you."
His hand gripped the phone a little tighter. "What am I doing? Asking you to describe it to me when we're both here, right?"
Heat flooded her body in anticipation. Was he really about to do this? She absently nodded her head. "Right."
"You could just show it to me."
They both took deep breaths. They had joked about it before. They had flirted about it before. They had come close to acting on it too many times before.
It felt different this time.
"Where are you?"
"Steph…" he trailed off. Unable to finish the sentence. Unable to finish the thought.
"Why did you call me?"
She was pressing him. He loved that about her, especially lately. The dynamic between them had shifted. They were comfortable around each other, too comfortable, yet at the same time constantly teetering on the edge. When she refused to let up like this and kept the pressure on, he could hardly take it. He was attracted to her in every way. It was pathetic.
He gulped.
"To talk about the storyline."
"That's why you called? At this time?"
"Until I found out that you're here. Since then I've spent the rest of the time trying not to…"
"Not to what?"
"You know what."
Stephanie ignored the way his voice deepened and tried not to picture him in her mind but it was useless. She needed to know where he was. She needed to see him. "So where are you? Hilton?"
"Marriott actually." Why did he say that? Fuck.
"What room number?" She was brazen. It was too much.
"Steph. Don't."
"Why did you call me?"
"I have to go."
"Why?"
"Because if I don't you're going to end up in this room and…"
"And what?"
Silence.
"And what, Paul?" She let out a heavy breath laced with frustration. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called."
"No…yes…I don't know, Paul. I don't know what we're doing. What are we doing?"
And that was just the problem. They weren't doing anything. They hadn't done anything. But they had come close. So many times. Paul scratched his head and gripped his hair, giving a tight tug. She was right. Flirting the way they did was fun when it was leading somewhere. For them, it just couldn't happen. They were stuck in this endless loop of riding the edge of the knife, bringing the other closer to the tipping point and then backing off to repeat the process all over again. It was torture.
"I should probably go…" she trailed off. Her body had deflated from the high he always brought on. The delicious tension that slowly built between them made her throb in more ways than one. And every time it was like somebody popped a balloon and let all the air out. She wasn't lying - she really didn't know how much more of this she could take.
"Eight-three-two."
"What?"
"My room. Eight-three-two. The Marriot. Back Bay."
What the fuck was he doing? Jesus. She was Vince's daughter. Nothing could happen. He knew that. It was fine. They could just watch a movie or something. Nothing wrong with that.
Stephanie was asking herself the same thing. What the fuck was he doing? This couldn't happen. He knew that, right? She had psyched herself up for the inevitable disappointment of ending the call and now she was forced to psyche herself up for something different entirely.
"Paul." Her voice came out in a whisper but nothing followed.
"You asked. Now you know."
"I wasn't expecting you to tell me!"
He half laughed at her outburst. While he knew it was crazy, a part of him wanted her to put her money where her mouth was. Then put her mouth everywhere else. An even smaller part of him wanted her to initiate it. Then he wouldn't have to blame himself. If she started it, that was on her. At least that's what he told himself.
And it wasn't just a small part of him. It was all of him. Every part of him was desperate for her to start it so he could let himself off the hook. He could maybe take the unleashing of hell Vince would throw at him if he could say that she started it. Maybe. Admitting to Vince that he was the one who made the first move would destroy him. Literally. Vince would kill him, bring him back to life and kill him again for even thinking about touching her. And fuck had he thought about it. In fact, he couldn't seem to stop.
"Do you really want me to come over?"
"You know I do. And we both know you can't. Goodnight, Steph. I'll see you tomorrow."
He ended it before they started all over again. She wouldn't come and really, she shouldn't. What was the point? He didn't want to watch a fucking movie with her. He wanted her all over this room, in every way, all night long. His gut actually ached as he took a deep breath of the cool night air. It was fucking freezing on the balcony. He stepped back inside the room and shut the door.
Now what was he supposed to do?
He stood there for a solid minute, unsure and mind racing. Eventually, he plopped onto the bed and started flicking through the channels. The news. Basketball highlights. More news. Some cop show. Baseball. The Sox just finished up at Fenway Park. It must have run late. He should have gone to that tonight. It would have served as the perfect distraction. He really ought to make an effort to get to a game. What a perfect place for a date. He'd love to bring…
No.
No tv.
Too much thinking.
He lay there staring at the ceiling and started counting. He made it to twenty-one before he'd had enough.
"Fuck," he muttered, cheeks puffing out slowly. 'Shower."
It was just after midnight when he stepped out of the bathroom in just his boxers. He felt much better and silently congratulated his decision to use the shower cap. Now he didn't need to dry his hair and could hop straight into bed.
Surprisingly, it didn't take long for sleep to come. Within minutes he was dozing, his body welcoming the rest after such a chaotic week on the road. And it still wasn't over. Tomorrow was Smackdown. The grind never stopped.
It was sometime later when he felt himself stirring. Unbeknownst to him, it was almost two-thirty in the morning. He blinked a few times and wet his lips, certain that he had heard…something…like a dull thumping sound. Lifting his head from the pillow, he hovered for a few moments, now certain that he was going nuts, when the thumping returned. Somebody was at the door.
"What the…" he mumbled. His body practically rolled out of the bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans as he walked through the dark room and thought twice about rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It would just make it harder to fall back asleep after he told whoever was on the other side of this door to fuck off. Was it his wake-up call already?
Suddenly he stopped, no longer needing to rub the sleep from his eyes. They shot open and he was wide awake. He hadn't asked for a wake-up call.
No.
No way.
There was simply no fucking way.
Paul swallowed the lump that had developed in his throat and pulled the door open without peeking through the fisheye. It was just hotel staff. It had to be.
Except it wasn't.
Standing there in her little black dress, all done up for a night on the town, was Stephanie McMahon. She wore a flimsy jacket that barely reached her hips. Her hair had that natural wave and bounce that he loved. Her makeup was a bit smudged but she still looked as insanely hot as she always did. The dress was perfect. The hair was perfect. She was perfect. Fuck.
Fuck, fuck fuck.
No.
Not fuck.
He couldn't think of that word when she was standing in front of him looking like that.
"Hey."
"What are you doing here?" The words flew out of his mouth in a panic. "You can't be here, Stephanie."
"Well, that's not a very nice way to say hello. Paul." Stephanie scrunched up her face and shamelessly stared at his bare chest, her glossy eyes roaming everywhere. Her hand reached out and lightly gripped the front of his jeans. She held it there for an awkward few seconds before bursting into laughter.
Then she poked him in the chest.
"Aren't you gonna let me in?"
She was drunk.
Paul absently shook his head, hardly able to believe this was happening.
She was fucking drunk.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room, all too aware that somebody could see her. It would just be his luck that it would be somebody from the company.
"Eight-three-two. Eight-three-two. The Marriot." Stephanie did her best to imitate his voice as she repeated their conversation on the phone. "I'm here."
"I can see that," he smirked. Oh but she made a very cute drunk. He was in trouble here.
"Do you know…" she started as she marched towards the bed and kicked off her heels. "…the desk lady wouldn't let me!"
She said it so incredulously that Paul couldn't help but laugh even though he had no idea what the hell she was talking about. It helped distract him from the fact that she was now sitting on his bed. "Wouldn't let you what?"
Stephanie held out her hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm your wife!" She giggled at her own joke. "I told her…I'm here to see my husband. I need a key for eight-three-two. And she said…" Stephanie had to stop to allow a hiccup. "She said that I wasn't on the reservation so noooooooo. No key."
"Hey, you made it, right?"
"Yes. I'm here."
"You're here."
"I wanted to see you."
Her voice had turned to a whisper. Paul all but gulped. He kept himself on the other side of the room, as far away from her as possible.
"Now you can see what I'm wearing."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. So did her voice. It was like she was stone cold sober all of a sudden. He almost forgot he had asked her on the phone earlier. He didn't even regret it.
"Steph…"
"Do you like it?" She bit her lip and slowly locked eyes with him as she spoke.
Paul was done for. There was an invisible force at his back, pushing him forward until he was standing in front of her. He took her hand and pulled her up.
"Let's take a look." His voice was low as he raised their joined hands in the air and slowly twirled her around. For the first time, he truly let himself indulge in the moment. There was nobody else watching them. His eyes hungrily drank her in. He'd be embarrassed if anybody saw him looking at her the way that he was. "I love it."
Stephanie blushed, desperate to break eye contact but she couldn't look away. His thumb was stroking along her finger. They were standing so close she could feel the heat from his chest. They were alone. Completely alone. Fuck, she wanted this to happen between them so badly it was driving her crazy. After their call, she spent the rest of the night knocking back vodka & cokes to work up enough Dutch courage to go see him. Her friends were still partying. She told them she was ready to call it a night, let them put her in the cab and told the driver to take her here as soon as they shut the door.
She dropped her gaze to his lips and Paul watched, mesmerized, as her eyes slid shut and her head dipped forward.
He had a split second to decide.
Despite every urge, impulse and instinct in his body, miraculously, he took a small step back and brought his free hand up to caress her cheek. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at him with such a soft expression on her face. It was at that exact moment that he knew this was definitely going to happen. He didn't want to kiss her for the first time when she was tipsy, but this thing between them wasn't going away. His feelings for her were too real to ignore. There was no fighting it anymore. He wanted her, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted everything that came after and he made the decision there and then that he was going to do it, consequences be damned.
But not tonight.
"It's late."
"Hmmm."
"Go to bed, Steph."
"Okay."
They spoke in whispers. Stephanie held on to his hand as he walked her to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers. She awkwardly clambered in and shuffled over, leaving room for him to join. "Stay with me."
Paul smiled softly as she burrowed under the covers. "I'll be there in a minute. Go to sleep." He stroked her hair for a few moments, fighting with himself about whether to get in the bed or not. As her breathing evened out, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and delicately tugged his hand free from her grasp. "Goodnight, Steph."
He grabbed a pillow and the spare blanket from the wardrobe, then settled himself on the sofa. The usual turmoil that bubbled inside of him every night as he tortured himself with thoughts of her wasn't there this time. The decision had been made. And now? The feelings that bubbled inside of him were something else altogether, something that he wasn't quite ready to admit to himself just yet, but something that he welcomed all the same.
Smackdown couldn't come soon enough.