by Lisa Suzanne
I nod, and Jarrod shoos us into the room with the ladies for happy hour. The happy hour is mostly anticlimactic for me since I don’t get to pick who goes home, but it also takes the pressure off. I’m in the middle of a conversation with Lexy about a dog she adopted from the shelter when Amber slides her arms around my waist from behind.
“He had these big brown eyes and—” Lexy stops mid-sentence.
“Can I steal Dax away for a minute?” she asks. It’s actually more of a moan than a question.
Lexy looks at me with wide, wholesome blue eyes, and I get the sense that she doesn’t belong on this show. She’s nice. She’s sweet. She’s the girl next door, a social worker from the Midwest who adopts dogs from shelters and is too kind for me to defile her with the erotic thoughts I’m having.
“Can you give us another couple minutes?” I ask Amber, the drama queen bartender from New York, New York and possibly Lexy’s complete opposite.
Amber huffs out a frustrated breath but doesn’t respond as she slinks away.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Lexy, and she just shoots me a wide smile and continues her story. I want to focus on what she’s saying, but now I’m focused on her lips. I lean down and press a quick kiss to them because I need to know what they taste like.
Strawberries.
They taste like strawberries.
She jumps back in surprise and holds her fingertips to her lips where mine just met them. She looks down at the ground a little shyly, and then she glances up at me from under lowered lashes. She’s much sexier than I’ve given her credit for with those wide, innocent eyes, and I want to fuck her into next week.
But then I remember the profile I read about her.
She’s a virgin. It’s like the holy grail.
I shake my head to clear it.
I can’t fuck her into next week. Can I? I need to reread that damn contract.
“You were saying about the dog?” I ask, trying to focus on thoughts of a dog in some attempt to get my boner to stop straining against my zipper.
“Oh, right,” she says. She pulls at her ponytail to tighten it and tells me more about the dog she adopted. When she’s finished, I head off to find Amber even though I want to spend more time with Lexy, and just when we’ve barely started our conversation, Melanie appears and tells us it’s time to line up for the elimination ceremony.
Amber leans in close to my ear. “Don’t you dare think you’re escaping next time without kissing me.”
I grin at her. Maybe she’s not so bad after all.
* * *
I end up staying the night at a hotel in Los Angeles. It’s too many hours logged in the car back and forth just to sleep in my bed and turn around to do it all over again.
I’m about to lie down when I get the strongest urge to call Kylie, and so I do. I pace back and forth as I dial the phone, a strange feeling attacking me right in the chest as I wait for her to answer.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from my most famous client?” she answers.
I chuckle. Just missing you. I shake that thought out of my head. “I was just lying here in bed thinking about the women from tonight and trying to categorize who I like the most. I thought maybe you could help me sort it out.”
“Go for it,” she says. Her tone is flat, and I read way too much into it.
“Do you not want to help?” I ask. Maybe I should’ve called Brody with this.
“Of course I do. It’s what you pay me to do.”
Right. It’s what we pay her to do. It’s not because she wants to talk this out with me.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, her voice softening.
“I think so far my frontrunners are Poppy, Lexy, Eden, and Talia.”
She clears her throat. “Not Melanie?”
“Definitely not. Anyone who sells me out is off the list.”
“Fair enough,” she says. “Have you confronted her?”
“No. It’s like the producers are purposely keeping us apart so I can’t.”
“Ah. Who went home tonight?”
I’m not really supposed to say, but I do anyway. “Amanda.”
“The one who still lives with her baby daddy ex?”
“Yeah.” I stop pacing in front of the window and stare out at the lights illuminating downtown Los Angeles.
“Shocker.” She giggles and I give a manly sort of giggle myself, and when the laughter fades, a few beats of awkward silence pass between us.
And that’s when I hear a voice in the background. “Kylie?” A decidedly male voice.
That weird feeling that raced around my chest as I dialed her number shoots down into my stomach. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.” Male company.
She clears her throat. “No, it’s fine. It’s just—”
I cut her off. “I’ll talk to you Thursday, okay?” I end the call before she has a chance to tell me that she’s seeing somebody. This way’s easier. I can pretend it’s nothing, no big deal. I can pretend she’s at her apartment by herself.
Thinking of me.
It’s naïve and stupid and I don’t even know why I’m having those thoughts when I’m off in Los Angeles competing for love on a reality show.
And as much as I want to believe it’s a brother or just a friend or whatever, it’s one in the morning. Brothers and friends don’t call a woman’s name—not like that, anyway—at one in the morning.
18
“As one of our men is a professional baseball player, today we’ll be touring a baseball stadium,” Melanie says. Danny, the eight remaining women, and I are gathered in the living room on Wednesday, and I’m tired as fuck. I didn’t sleep well last night after my chat with Kylie, and she’s playing heavily on my mind today. Every day. “We’ll start with two small group dates and then shift the focus to one-on-one time. Since Danny is our ballplayer, he will automatically have elimination power tonight.”
I don’t want to be here today.
I want to be at home playing video games with Brody and eating pancakes for lunch. I want Kylie to walk in the door and greet us and fill us in on our schedule for the week.
I should be more excited for this date. I played ball in high school and love the game. I follow the Padres religiously. Brody and I have talked about getting season tickets, but our schedule prevents us from actually doing it. But there’s nothing like going to a game, drinking beer, eating shitty hot dogs swimming in mustard, and hearing the crack of a bat against a ball.
Instead of getting excited for the date, I just feel exhausted both mentally and physically. I have a feeling I’ll be bad company today, and this isn’t like me. I’m usually the life of the party, and I need to snap the fuck out of this stupid haze.
Danny and I travel separately from the women. They go to the stadium first, and the producers hold us back for confessionals. When we finally arrive, two huge blankets with baskets on them are set up—one in left field, and one in right. Since Danny is the third baseman, he’s directed to left, and I’m sent to right.
I open the basket and find all the goodies for a picnic. The women must’ve played some game to determine who gets to sit with who, because suddenly they come running out from the dugout dressed in baseball uniforms. Amber, Eden, Poppy, and Lexy head in my direction while the other four run over to Danny.
I draw in a deep breath before they get to me. I focus on the sway of these four women as their bodies hurtle toward me in near slow motion as I do my best to let go of the anger that’s built in my chest.
It’s hard to let it go, though. I get that stubborn streak from my dad—the one person I never wanted to be like.
Eden arrives first, and she collapses on the blanket directly next to me. Amber claims the spot on my other side, and Lexy and Poppy sit across from us. All four women are a little breathless from their sprint across the field, and my dick stirs to life as my eyes flick to their chests, their breasts rising and falling in the afternoon sun on a picnic bl
anket in the outfield.
I force my focus to this romantic setting and the women here in front of me. I open the basket and pull out crackers, grapes, and cheese. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses and a few bottles of Miller Lite for me. Once we’re all situated, I say, “Tell me about the house.”
“What do you want to know?” Eden asks.
I shrug. “Anything.”
“Well there are two huge bedrooms, each set up with five twin beds. I room with Poppy, Nicole, and Lexy, and Chantelle was in there before she left,” Eden says.
I glance over at Amber. “So you room with Kristy, Charlotte, and Talia?”
Amber nods. “And Amanda before she left.”
“And how’s that going?” I ask.
The ladies all look uncomfortably around the outfield—basically anywhere but at me, and I can’t help but wonder what it’s really like in there. The first two episodes focused much more on Danny and me than on the women, and the bowling date really focused on Chantelle, so it’s hard to get a good read on the women so far.
“Fine,” Poppy finally says. “But tell us about you. What’s your family like?”
“My band is my family.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend for it to. I look down at the ground, and we sit in silence for an awkward moment. I hate what that question always does to me, but there are only a few people who know the truth: my parents, my half-sister, and Brody. Of those people, I only talk to Brody.
The truth is that my father never supported my career as a musician. He wanted me to go to college—which I did—and he wanted me to find a steady job with a good income.
I get that parents want what’s best for their children, but I’m nearly twenty-six now and he has no idea how successful MFB has become. He wrote off my music as early as middle school when Brody, Adam, and I started jamming together. And the very second I escaped my parents’ house along with their lack of support, I ran and never looked back.
I haven’t talked to my father since my high school graduation and I haven’t talked to my mother—who claims she agrees with him but is really just too damn weak to stand up and defend her son—since my twenty-first birthday.
Oh, and my half-sister? She’s the product of an affair between my dad and some woman who left her on my dad’s doorstep when I was in fifth grade and she was a baby.
My family situation is messy, but my brothers in MFB are always there for me. Sometimes you find the best family in people who don’t share your blood.
“So is your band who we’ll meet on episode eight?” Amber asks.
If you’re still around, I almost say, but I realize what a bitch move that would be before the words tumble out of my mouth. “Yeah.”
“Tell us about the guys in your band,” Amber gushes, and I launch into the story of MFB—a topic I can talk about for hours upon hours.
Jarrod walks over a while later. “Time for the one-on-ones,” he says. “Dax and Eden, you’re up first.”
We both stand and follow Jarrod through the stadium. We end up in a private suite on the two-hundred level. We can see down to the field, but more than likely the women can’t see us up here. I have no idea where Danny went off to, but I like the privacy this suite offers.
As soon as Jarrod shuts the door behind us, Eden takes a step toward me. We’re not alone, exactly—two cameramen are set up in different corners of the room, but Eden doesn’t seem to care.
“I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to get you alone.” She presses her body to mine and links her arms around my neck, and then she kisses me. Her lips are firm and warm against mine, and I open my mouth to hers.
I don’t care that there are cameras on us—I’m used to people watching me up on stage, though this is a different sort of performance, I guess. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close to me as I breathe in her vanilla scent. She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she’s blunt, and she’s a hell of a kisser, and I like all those things about her.
She pulls back. “I’ve wanted to do that since the second we met.”
I raise a brow. “Then why didn’t you?”
She giggles. “Shut up,” she says. She smacks me lightly in the arm, and I chuckle before her mouth comes back to mine. This is an important part of a relationship. We have to see if we’re compatible.
She speeds the kiss up, but I slow it down. Kissing should be slow, leisurely, deliberate. I take my time as I cup her slim neck with my hand. She runs her fingers through my hair, and my fingers trail down until they land on her ass. I’m rewarded with a moan.
I finally pull away first because as much as I like kissing this girl, I want to see if there’s more than a physical attraction there. We sit and face the field. “Tell me more about you,” I say.
She lifts a shoulder. “What do you want to know?”
“I already know you like to drink wine and paint. What else is there to Eden?”
“I actually prefer beer to wine,” she says.
I grin. “So do I.”
“Bud Light?” she asks.
I make a face. “Fuck no. Miller.”
She rolls her eyes. “I knew you were too good to be true.”
I laugh. “What else do I need to know about you?”
“I play on a co-ed soccer team every Thursday night.”
I raise a brow. “Soccer?”
She nods. “I played in college, too.”
“So that’s where those nice legs come from.”
She turns toward me. “Those actually come from running on the beach every night.”
“Every night?”
She nods. “Except Thursday since it’s game day. I didn’t really think about how much it would suck to be cooped up in the house for five weeks, and I can only imagine what the Straight Shooters are doing without their star female midfielder.”
“The Straight Shooters?” I ask.
“My team. We get to the park early, drink a few pitchers, and play drunk. We’ve won the last four tournaments.”
I raise both brows, impressed. “Maybe I’ll have to come see you play sometime.”
She smiles. “The feeling is mutual, Hunter.”
I lean in to kiss her, and it quickly turns intense. As my mouth covers hers and our tongues brush together, I realize I’m actually developing some feelings for her—feelings I wasn’t expecting to have at all during this process, let alone this early on.
I let go as I kiss her, allowing my hands to start moving along her torso. The feelings are new. They’re not intense yet, but maybe they could turn into more. And so, I decide to just go with it because I want to...but also because I have to. It’s not like Kylie will ever be a real option for me...especially not when men are calling her name at one in the morning.
Far too soon, we’re interrupted by Jarrod’s voice whispering somewhere in the distance of the room. “Wrap it up. Time to switch.”
I lean my forehead down to Eden’s. “I want to keep kissing you.”
She presses her lips to mine just once. “Good,” she says, and then she smiles at me and follows Jarrod out the door. I take a deep breath and head over to the railing, where I look down over the baseball stadium and run a hand through my hair, lost in thought about Eden and the other girls. Kylie is mixed in my thoughts, too, but she’s always sort of mixed in there with the rest.
I shake her out of it. I’ve got three more one-on-ones here, and someone’s getting sent home.
I focus my attention on Lexy next, who I also kiss because she’s so goddamn sweet and innocent and I want to strip that right off her, and then Amber comes in. It’s obvious as soon as she steps into the suite that she’s out for action, and while I’m definitely attracted to her, I’ve already kissed both the other girls, and Poppy—who hasn’t been shy about kissing me—is coming in next.
Historically I enjoy my time with different ladies, but it’s typically one lady at a time. One lady a night. Sometimes two. But not four, and not more.
It isn’t jus
t confusing keeping all of them straight while I try to categorize how I’m feeling about each of them; it’s emotionally taxing. I’m exhausted, I’m annoyed, and I can’t stop thinking about the man calling Kylie’s name in the background of our late-night call last night.
I don’t want to be thinking about her. I want to focus forward. I want to win the show and win someone’s heart and win a hundred thousand dollars.
It’s with that thought in mind that I chug another beer and kiss Amber, if nothing else to shut her up from gossiping about the other girls. I don’t want to hear it—I’d rather get to know them myself, but I can’t help wondering if she’s kissed Danny, too. I wonder if any of the women have.
Amber leaves and Poppy walks in. She’s always been forward with me, but something’s different tonight. Maybe it’s because she’s the last one-on-one, or maybe she realizes the stakes are rising. Whatever the case, as soon as she walks into the room, she collapses into one of the seats and pats the one next to her. I sit dutifully, and she blows out a breath.
“Did you kiss them?” she asks.
I nod and raise a brow. “You don’t strike me as the jealous type.”
She laughs. “I’m not, but I want to make sure I leave a lasting impression. Especially on you. I really like you, Dax.”
“Have you kissed Danny?”
She shakes her head. “I wanted it to be you the second I saw you. You’re not just sexy as hell, Dax. You exude this charisma I’ve never seen before. You’re charming and cute but you’re also this bad boy rock star wrapped up in this hot package. And speaking of hot package...” Her words trail off as her hand trails down. I’m certain this is in view of the camera, but I can’t act like I don’t want it. Her hand finds my cock, which lately seems to be in a constant state of semi-hardness, and she grips onto me until it’s fully hard.
I lean down to nuzzle her neck, and I groan quietly into her. She grips harder and starts moving her hand, and while I know I should stop her, should take her hand and move it or halt her or whatever, I don’t want to. I want to have an intimate moment with a near stranger—maybe because I can’t have it with the person I suddenly want to have it with.
