Playing For Love

by J. C. Grant

  Before I could respond, he continued, “I didn't think you'd care.” He looked at me for a long moment, like he was trying to see something. See if I was hiding something.

  “You need to fill these out, and we need at least two forms of identification,” the woman at the desk said, interrupting our... whatever it was.

  David reached for my purse, not hesitating as he pulled it open, digging through it while it was still on my shoulder. He pulled out my wallet then his, setting them on the counter. He dug back into my purse, producing two passports and my birth certificate.

  When did he start putting his stuff in my purse?

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by the way he casually took over my phone and my purse, but I was. Admittedly, the purse thing was comforting, it felt like we had been together forever not days. But I was mad and anxious with him confiscating my phone. Looking at current texts and calls was one thing, but if he went through it...

  Taking a deep breath, I noticed the woman behind the desk watching me. Apparently, I wasn't playing it off as well as I hoped. Rearranging my face into a relaxed expression, I realized the irony of me being pissed at him, yet filing for a marriage license. I didn't comment as I started filling out my paperwork, letting David takeover anything else that needed to be done. He was going to anyway.

  “Ashley?” David asked.

  I looked up to see him watching me. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing what your middle name is. And waiting to see when your birthday is,” he said, still looking over my shoulder.

  That was a wake-up call. We didn't know each other’s middle names or birthdays. We hardly knew anything about each other.

  “April second,” I answered efficiently.

  His eyes met mine, searching, and then his face softened. Concern was written all over his features as he leaned in.

  “Hey, what's wrong?” he breathed, moving behind me, grabbing my hips, pressing his hard angles into my soft curves. His husky voice washed over me. “You mad at me?”

  After a moment, when I still hadn't responded, he buried his face in my neck, breathing me in before he continued, “Don't you wanna know when mine is? Or my middle name?” He sounded a little hurt that I hadn't shown the same interest in him.

  “Of course I do, but I figured it was a two-way street—I can just go through your stuff whenever I feel like it.” My bitchiness was coming through. “Actually, I'm surprised you didn't read my birth certificate already.”

  “I was a little busy last night—taking care of you.”

  Something about his tone confused me. Was he saying I had been difficult or was he talking about my sexual needs? I couldn't tell. So I focused on my paperwork. But I did notice his middle name was Joseph and that his birthday was January twentieth.

  As I knew he would, he took over everything else, and by the time he was done, the clerk was quite smitten with him.

  Once we got back in the limo the tension between us seemed to have faded.

  “Had my assistant make all the appointments for today,” he mentioned as the limo pulled away from the curb.

  Of course he had an assistant. I felt stupid for never considering it before. No wonder he was able to get everything done. Although, he had no problem getting what he wanted at the courthouse.

  “What did he—she schedule?” I didn’t really like that someone had more knowledge than me about our plans. And I really didn’t like these constant reminders that I didn’t know much about him.

  “Don’t worry it’s a guy,” he teased. “Aaron—you’ll meet him soon.”

  As ridiculous as it was, that made me feel significantly better.

  “Do we have options on the location?” I looked away from the passing scenery to David—his strong jaw, high cheeks bones, and sculpted lips softening me.

  “We’ve got a private villa with a large terrace in back. Thought we could get married there. However you want it decorated. But if you'd rather get married on the beach, we can do that. We'll do whatever you want.”

  I snuggled into his side and his arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer, his pec twitched under my cheek. I couldn’t begin to understand why that twitch was comforting. The tension between us in the courthouse had dissipated and I was relieved, but I still needed to know what was going on with him.

  “So...what did you do? What are you hiding?” I asked softly.

  He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “You know what the paparazzi at the store said. About the club?” When I nodded, he continued. “Someone took a few pics of us. They went public Saturday. Your name was withheld.” He paused for a moment. “But it's going to be released, along with our wedding announcement.”

  I didn't pull away, even though I really wanted to see his face. I fought the building anxiety and took deep breaths.

  “Austin... say something.” His muscles went rigid as he waited for my response. The tension rolled off him.

  Where do I start?

  I kept my voice even as I spoke. “When did you decide this—or make these arrangements or whatever you did?”

  “I planned the release of your name on Sunday. After your declaration of wanting to keep us a secret... I didn't want to be your secret—I don't want to be your secret.”

  “Yeah, I know. You've been very clear about it.” I tried to swallow the growing lump in my throat. “What about the wedding announcement? When did you decide that?”

  “Yesterday morning. When I knew I was getting the ring.”

  So many things raced through my mind, I couldn't keep up with them all.

  “That's what lunch was about? That contract? Getting me to quit my job? Because of some deadline you created?” I was starting to feel manipulated, and that pissed me off.

  “No.” I felt him shaking his head, his lips pressed to my hairline. “I'd been planning all that before I scheduled the announcements.”

  Ignoring his highhandedness, I stayed on the current topic, “But you scheduled it before I said yes.”

  “Yeah. I was gonna get you to say yes. One way or another.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I didn't plan on fucking you into agreeing—not that I'm complaining,” he quickly added.

  I took a deep breath, exhaling harshly. I had a feeling he had planned on fucking me into agreeing.

  “When is all this happening? Is that why your publicist is texting you on my phone?” I still wasn't sure why he forwarded his calls, forcing us to share a phone. But at the moment it was the least of my concerns.

  His lips and nose pressed against my head, his breath was warming my hair. Eventually he responded.

  “She's trying to get it pushed back until tomorrow. But if she can't get that done, she is trying to get it pushed back until later today.”

  My heart jumped along with my anxiety. I thought I would have a day or two to adjust, wrap my head around it, but I didn’t. I swallowed thickly and asked, “You realize what’s going to happen? Pushing me into the public eye like this. And my ex—” I stopped short, realizing I had never told him who my ex was.

  “I know.” His voice was rough and resigned. “Your ex is going to take advantage of any publicity he can get... I know who he is. I found a picture of the two of you.”

  My stomach sank.

  I felt guilty.

  Finding it, he probably thought I kept it for some deeper meaning.

  “That's why you punched a hole in my wall,” I whispered.

  “Yeah.” He spoke against my hairline, his arm tightening for a moment.

  “Let me see your hand.”

  He obeyed, holding it out for me, letting me inspect it. It didn't look too damaged, only a few small scratches.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “It's fine,” he breathed, his voice tender.

  I brought his hand up to my lips, pressing a kiss to an unmarred knuckle.

  “You know this is going to cause us a lot of unnecessary stress, right?” I asked, softly.

  “I'll deal with i
t. You don't need to do anything. I'll handle everything.” He was so sincere in trying to comfort me, to convince me everything would be okay. “And I already hired my publicist for you, so don't worry.”

  I knew this was going to be a nightmare, but his confidence mixed with the way he breathed me in relaxed me, giving me a break from the reality that was coming.

  “Social media accounts?” he asked abruptly.

  It took me a second to process his question, then I shook my head minutely in response.

  “Didn't think so.” His voice shifted then, all business. “Elaine's going to open some, manage them for you.”

  “Okay,” I sighed. I was not excited or inclined to share my personal life with strangers.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Not being pissed at me. Not pointing out how fucked up I am. How fucking wrong and selfish it was for me to do this to you, without even asking. I just wanted everyone to know—”

  “I know,” I breathed. I knew he wasn't sorry; he wanted our relationship acknowledged by me and everyone else. He needed this to feel validated, secure. “I'm not looking forward to it. At all. But I know with your issues what I'm dealing with... Just tell me next time, okay?”

  “Won’t be a next time. Everyone's gonna know we're married in less than twenty-four hours.” He sounded so relieved—too relieved.

  “You'll be amazed at how much it won’t matter,” I muttered under my breath, afraid he had convinced himself getting married would fix his abandonment issues.

  It wouldn't.

  There was no quick fix. It was and would be an ongoing struggle. Which was fine with me. I was too fucked up to be with someone who was well-adjusted.

  The limo turned, entering a gated drive. Then an open, lush, green landscape came into view. We passed several palm trees before we came to a stop in front of a huge, white house. When he'd said villa, I'd been thinking more like a condo. This was bigger than his house in LA. It was a window-lined contemporary mansion.

  The driver opened the back door, helping me out. David was by my side before I had a chance to fully take in our surroundings.

  “David... this is amazing,” I breathed, turning to him.

  “You approve?” When I nodded, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me onto the long path leading toward the door. “Good. Wanna keep my wife happy.”

  The glass front doors opened, revealing a short, refined-looking, older gentleman wearing black slacks and a vest with a crisp, white shirt.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” he said with a slight bow.

  “Oh. We're—” I started to correct him.

  “Thank you.” David's commanding voice cut me off. His arm squeezed me tight as he led me into the large foyer.

  It was unreal, a contemporary palace. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before with its high ceilings—higher than the ones in David's house—endless white walls, and slate floors. The clean, modern lines gave it a sophisticated style, but the unobstructed view of the ocean gave it an island feel. The collapsible glass doors tucked away in the wall, bringing the outdoors in.

  I pulled away from David and made my way across the spacious house and outside. The covered patio was like an extension of the house. The center of the white roof was glass with large, white, wood beams.

  Breathing in the clean ocean air and a floral scent I couldn't place, I walked out along the path toward the ocean. Eventually, I reached the edge of the property, nothing but the ocean and white-bloom trees as far I could see. The view was awe-inspiring; it was more than I had ever dreamed of. David was going to spoil me in every way possible. And as much I wanted to do nothing but enjoy this magnificent place, especially the infinity pool at the edge of the property overlooking the water, I had to take care of a little—not so little—issue.

  “Will the car be here very long?” I asked, absorbing the view in front of me. I knew he followed me; I could feel him. I could always feel when he was near. “I want to take a shower, then run a quick errand.”

  “Yeah, there'll be a car and driver around the clock. And Byron will be here twenty-four/seven. What do you need? I'll go with you. In fact,” he growled, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his thumbs brushing rhythmically over my waist, “I'll take a shower with you too.”

  I must have missed the older man introducing himself.

  He must be Byron.

  “No, I need to do this alone.”

  “Why?” His voice was guarded.

  “It's for you, David. A ring.” I looked over my shoulder, meeting his gaze.

  He pulled away and turned me to face him.

  “Already got yours, but I need to come with you. For sizing.” His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close again.

  “Oh.”

  Why hadn't I thought of that?

  My fingers traced the dip between his pectorals, glancing up at him from under my brows. “Yeah, okay.” After a long moment, I whispered, “This place is perfect. I love it.”

  “I figured.” At my expression he explained, “The way you left me behind...”

  I felt like an idiot, leaving him behind without a word and not having the sense to know he needed to be present for the sizing. “Sorry—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he cut me off. “I’m just happy you like it.”

  “It’s amazing, thank you, babe.”

  He studied my face for a moment then asked, “What's up, sweetheart?”

  “Nothing,” I answered a little too quickly.

  He watched me closely for a moment. Completely misreading my expression, the tension in his arms went from holding to restraining. His voice was dark when he spoke. “You know I love you, that I would die before I let you go, right?”

  It took me half a second to fully process the intensity of his words. Something in my chest loosened and warmed. “Yeah. I know that, babe.”

  His fierce gaze stayed locked on mine for moment. I felt trapped, and I loved it. He leaned in slowly, his lips claiming mine in a possessive kiss. His tongue pushed in, sliding along mine. My pussy throbbed in response, my body becoming submissive under his influence. When he pulled away... I would’ve let him do anything to me, would have given him everything he wanted.

  This was the problem. I was dickmatized. He got me fuck-drunk daily. Just his kiss turned me into a bitch in heat.

  David grabbed my ass, hauling me up his body. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and he started back toward the house. His hard stomach bumping into my clit with each step. Soon I was shifting my hips, seeking more friction. Seamlessly, those big hands took over, pulling me flush to him. I rubbed my clit against his abs, burying my head in his neck, focusing on the stimulation, on relieving that incessant ache. Suddenly he smacked my ass, hard, making me yelp and pull back. That's when I realized we were back at the house.

  “Behave for a few minutes.” His gravelly voice demanded.

  He let me down and I quickly adjusted my dress. When I turned, I noticed Bryon standing only a few feet away.

  Oh, God.

  I was struck with the horror that I had just humped David like a wild animal in front Byron, a man who reminded me too much of a grandfather. David was unaffected as he followed Byron, pulling my half lust-dazed, half humiliated self along behind him and up the expansive, floating staircase and down the walkway to the master suite.

  The space was just as beautiful as the rest of the house. There was an open wall across from the end of the king-sized bed, which dominated the room. Everything in the room was white except the slate floor.

  Entering the bathroom, I was met with a large, concrete wall. Everything else in the ample space was white and very modern, including the giant, bowl-style bathtub.

  Noticing all our things had been put away, I thanked Byron. Before leaving us, he showed us where all the controls in the room were for the drop-down TV, curtains, lights, and bathtub.

  “Come on, sweet girl. We got a schedule to keep,”
David said as he walked by me, latching onto my hand and pulling me into the bathroom.

  I quickly shed my clothes as he turned on the water. We rushed through a shower, quickly drying off. I tossed on a coral midi-dress and gold flip-flops, then hurriedly finished getting ready. When I emerged from the bathroom, David was tucking my phone back into his pocket. He had on a pair of worn jeans, a gray V-neck tee, and flip-flops. Sometimes I was still stunned by his beauty, his body, and just how seriously fucking sexy he was.

  Damn.

  David didn't seem to notice, he just hustled me downstairs and into the sizable modern white kitchen. Everything was white, except the island, which was a deep walnut with a white waterfall counter. It was stunning.

  “I took the liberty of setting you up in the breakfast room.” Byron startled me with his sudden appearance.

  He led us to an open eating area with a large, round table. David didn't hesitate. Sitting down, he added our preferred choices to our respective coffees as Byron pulled out my chair. Without pause, David started on his breakfast.

  “They are gluten-free, Mrs. Taylor.” I heard Byron say when I sat but didn't touch my food.

  I looked at David with my best ‘motherfucker, you didn't’ face.

  “What? I didn't—” He tried to swallow his food to explain.

  “Seriously?” I was horrified and angry that he would toss a poor decision to flirt with his friend in my face. One I only made because he chose to let women flirt aggressively with him in front of me.

  “I just wanted to be safe. Mr. Taylor didn't request it,” Byron quietly cut in, saving David from a good ripping.

  I looked at David with a side-eyed glare and he laughed, which prompted me to face him full on.

  “You fuckin' serious?” he asked, looking confused. His expression shifted to stoic, his voice was commanding. “Stop it, Austin. I wouldn't bring that shit up. You know that.”

  “Really? Because—”

  “Stop it and eat. While you were messing around with your face stuff, I made arrangements with a jewelry store. We gotta be there in an hour. Then we have to get back here for flower stuff, and we still have to get your dress.”