by J. C. Grant
“Love it when you get all up in my business.” His voice was a raspy purr. “And of course I’ll call, you know I will. Never leave you hanging like that. I love you. Can't wait to see you.”
“I love you more.”
“I fucking wish,” he grumbled, teasingly.
*****
As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I was greeted by the manager and taken straight to the penthouse.
When David called me back to let me know that he made arrangements for me to get a room key, he said they knew exactly who I was and that there was no need to call ahead. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. I was finding the more I got what I wanted, the less I actually wanted it. Fame that is. It really wasn't that great.
“Miss James, would you like me to show you around the penthouse?”
“Yeah, sure.”
After showing me the three bedroom penthouse, I tried to tip him, but he refused profusely before excusing himself, leaving me alone in the massive suite.
A full kitchen, dining room, three full baths... it felt more like an apartment.
It seemed excessive for David by himself.
I took a quick shower, knowing I only had an hour before David arrived, and I wanted to meet him in the lobby.
As soon as David called, letting me know he was only minutes from the hotel, I went down to the lobby to wait for him.
When the bus pulled in front of the hotel, my heart skipped a beat, then raced. Butterflies filled my stomach as I stood, anxiously waiting, watching as the bus doors opened and men started to exit. When David finally stepped out, it took Herculean effort not to run to him.
I watched as he talked to some fans, signing autographs.
“You'll get used to it," I heard someone say from beside me. I turned, finding a familiar face. She was blonde and tall and had a distinct look. Like a well aged model. “All the fans. All the women throwing themselves at him.”
I couldn't imagine ever getting used to that, but I didn't say anything.
“You're married to David, right?” she asked.
I was still preoccupied with trying to place where I knew her from. “Yeah. I'm sorry, I recognize you, but I can't place you.”
“Oh, that's okay. I used to do a lot of fitness modeling, but I retired a couple of years ago. After I got married.”
“Oh, okay.” I didn't think that's what I recognized her from though.
“So how are you adjusting to this crazy schedule?” There was something off about her. Too eager, too... something.
“It's an adjustment,” I hedged, not feeling comfortable talking to strangers about our personal life.
“I can imagine. With your show filming now and everything, I'm surprised you're even here.”
I didn't respond immediately, feeling caught off guard with her knowing so much about us. But these were the things I was going to have to get used to. Our lives were up for public consumption, whether we liked it or not.
I gave her a small smile and focused on David.
I felt her lean in closer before she said, "At least you don't have to worry about David cheating too much. He has a low sex drive. He was always more interested in working out than having sex."
Once her words sank in, I felt sick. Hollowed out. Gutted.
“I mean, they all do, right?” she added in a voice that was sweetness thinly veiling vindictiveness. “So how long did you guys date before you got married?”
“Eight days.”
“Wow, I bet most of his groupies have spent more time with him in just the past couple of weeks than you did before you got married.”
“I seriously doubt that.” I watched David slowly making his way through the crowd, willing him to hurry the fuck up.
“While the cat's away...” she whispered in a singsong voice.
This woman was hitting every one of my insecurities, but there was no way in hell I was letting her know that.
I ignored her and focused on David, more desperate than ever to run to him, seek refuge in his arms. But I resisted.
Once he came through those lobby doors, my control slipped. Darting toward him, a small squealing noise escaped my throat. He caught me effortlessly as I wrapped my arms and legs around him. His hands gripped my ass tight and our lips met with desperation. A hungry noise rattled through his chest and into mine, causing my core to pulse as I swallowed his erotic groan.
“This is exactly what I needed,” he murmured against my lips.
I didn't respond. I just smiled, our noses brushing, our lips still touching as he started walking toward the elevator bank.
“You get our room key?” he muttered.
“Yeah, angel.” I pressed my lips to his again, and I felt his hands tightened on my ass, fingers digging in.
I heard an “oh shit” from somewhere around us, but I didn't bother to look. I couldn't tear my eyes away from David.
“Fucking missed you so much.”
“I missed you,” I murmured between pressing kisses to his lips.
His voice was stern when he said, "Press the up button.”
Before I could comment, I heard, "Already did, man."
“Thanks.”
Feeling awkward having David hold me with our current audience, I wiggled, trying to get down.
“No fucking way. You're staying right here,” David growled, squeezing my ass cheeks, pulling me closer, smashing my breasts against his chest.
“I thought Sarah's eyes were going to shoot fire. She's fucking jealous, and she didn't even try to hide it. If Dwight didn't know before, he knows now,” the guy added.
Sarah...
I knew where I recognized her from.
She was one of David's ex-girlfriends.
Oh. My. God.
“She married your teammate?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Yep, the same one she cheated on me with.” His tone was matter-of-fact, if not slightly amused.
What the fuck?
“Are you okay?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
His eyebrows pulled together; his expression was both confused and amused.
“Yeah.” He squinted at me. “You're not jealous? Mad?”
Was I?
Technically, he had omitted the information.
Kinda.
But I never asked...
He likes working out more than he likes sex...
Everything she had said, her attitude, it all made sense.
“No, but they're both seriously fucked up. Who does that?” Then I looked to the other guy and asked, “She's jealous? Of what?”
“She's been shamelessly flirting with David. I actually feel bad for her. It's embarrassing.”
My gaze met David's then, questioning.
“I'm not encouraging her,” David swore. “I'm not even looking at her.”
“He's not. That's why it's so embarrassing,” the guy David still hadn't bothered to introduce me to added.
“Look at us,” David added mischievously. “Of course people are going to be jealous. Everybody wants what we have. And we're are seriously fucking hot.”
His playful mood was contagious; I couldn't help but smile.
“You are.”
His eyebrows lifted, a smug smirk crossing his face. “Sweetheart, I'd have to be pretty fucking hot to get a girl like you.”
I'd never seen him so openly cocky and arrogant, but somehow it still managed to be charming.
Then he added quietly, “And we have established that it's my body that gets you past your issues. Not to mention the way you climb, scratch, and bite my muscles when we're fucking.”
“David,” I reprimanded him.
“What?” he asked innocently.
I looked over toward the guy waiting at the elevator with us, then back at David.
“Oh please. You’ve let me fuck you in a crowded club. Twice.”
My face scrunched up, and I blurted, "That’s because you make me so horny, I can’t think straight. You and your magic cock
."
It took half a second for me to realize I said that out loud. When I did, I buried my face in David's neck. A soft laugh vibrated through his chest and into me as he pulled me tighter against him.
“Ahhh, I fuckin’ love you,” David murmured, amused by my words or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell which.
I heard a muttered "Jesus" from the other guy. Then he added, “No wonder I keep finding naked girls in his rooms.”
My eyes widened. “Do what?”
David’s jaw tightened as he shot a warning look to the other guy. “It was one naked girl.” Then he muttered, “The others had clothes on.”
There was definitely a technically left off his sentence.
I tensed in his arms. “Why haven’t I heard about this before?”
David leaned in close, our noses touching, his breath warming my face as he spoke. “Because you weren’t really talking to me, and I didn’t want to add any more stress to our situation.”
“We’re not doing that anymore, right?”
“Nope,” he breathed against my lips. “It’s not your stress or mine, it’s ours.” His lips captured mine in a lush kiss before he continued, “Even if it’s ugly and hurtful, we share.”
Cupping his jaw, I brushed my lips over his, until he took over. Soft. Sweet. Comforting.
When we arrived at the penthouse, I noticed the guy from the elevator was still with us. Not only that, he was opening the door to our room.
“David?” I questioned.
“Oh, yeah. This is Daniel.” David nodded toward the man entering our room without us.
“Daniel?”
“My Fergus, while you have Fergus,” he reminded me gently.
“Oh... I thought he was your teammate.” And I thought he would be much older. This guy was somewhere between Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth; completely capable of being David's wingman, if David ever decided to be that guy.
“Nah,” he rasped as he leaned in, pressing kisses along my jaw.
“I'm lucky you have such a loyal dick.”
He pulled back, looking at me questioningly. “Why would you be lucky?”
“Two really attractive guys traveling all over the country...”
“That right there is the exact reason you got Fergus instead of Daniel. And I don’t care what you say, you are always looking for a reason to leave me. And there is no way I'm giving you one. I don't flirt. I don't look.” His tone was calm but resolute.
“Yeah, right,” I muttered sarcastically, while secretly relishing his declaration.
“All clear,” Daniel interrupted.
In that moment, I was glad Daniel was there. The conversation was making me extremely uncomfortable.
Why did I do that? Start things I didn't really want to get into, especially when it was all when, if, and maybes, and we hardly ever saw each other for more than a few hours at a time.
I couldn't believe it, but I was glad filming was almost over. I wanted to be with David. More anyway, at least five full days a week. As awesome as Alec was, he was no substitute for David.
Once we were in the penthouse suite, David looked around then asked, “Where's Fergus?”
I bit my lip, realizing what I was going to have to admit to my husband.
“He thinks I flew to your game and met you there. I convinced him to let me fly alone...” I trailed off, then added. “I left Chance with him.”
He looked at me speculatively for a moment before he asked, “You lied to Fergus?” Then a smirk slowly started forming on his face. “And you got away with it?”
“Yeah?” It wasn’t the first time I’d lied to Fergus, but I wasn’t about to remind David of that.
“Well... Admittedly, it's adorable, but your safety is really important to me. So from that perspective—don't you ever fucking do it again. You get me?”
I felt like a child being scolded and being held by him only added to it. “Yes, I get you. I won't do it again.”
“Good. Now—” He shifted to playful, tossing me up a bit to adjust his grip. “—why didn't you want Fergus here? You plannin’ on taking advantage of me?” he teased.
Feigning coy, I bit my lip, and looked at him from under my eyelashes. “I was kinda hoping you could violate me in every way imaginable, if you're not otherwise occupied.”
“Even if I was, I'd cancel it. Violating you is my favorite thing to do.”
****
The next morning I woke up alone and sore in all the right places. The things we had done...
Oh man, was I glad we had three bedrooms, one separating ours from Daniels. Turned out, David hadn’t requested the penthouse. When he called they had given his room to someone else, so he was upgraded. He normally only had a two bedroom suite.
Rolling over, I luxuriated in the soft sheets and warm spot David left behind. I didn’t know how I was going to go back to our schedules on Monday. Just the thought had me burrowing in deeper, burying my nose in his pillow.
I was almost back to sleep when the bedroom door opened, revealing David in nothing but his jeans, unbuttoned and barely hanging on his hips.
“That didn’t take long,” he rumbled through an amused grin.
“Where were you?”
“Brutal truth?” he checked skeptically.
When I nodded, his eyebrows pulled together, eyes squinting, as if he thought I would yell at him. “There was a drug dealer and a prostitute at the door.”
“What?” I squawked. “How, why?”
“It happens sometimes, they probably have an arrangement with an employee, someone who let’s them know when there’s a guest that might be receptive to their services.”
This was why I had a strict no athletes or rock stars rule, their life on the road was too similar. That niggling insecurity reared it’s ugly head again; I still didn’t know The David, didn’t know what he was capable of.
Cautiously, I asked, “What did you say?”
He pinned me with an annoyed look, one that said, Are you fucking serious?
“I told ‘em I’m good... Get dressed, I’m gonna make us some breakfast.”
When I pulled the covers back revealing my nude form he added, “I mean it, Austin. Bra, baggy shirt, pants. Daniel’s here, I want you covered.”
“Okay,” I agreed slipping into the bathroom as he exited the bedroom.
I brushed my teeth, washed my face then started rummaging through my bags, looking for clothes.
I grabbed a bra and a pair of leggings; I hadn’t packed anything baggy. Opening David’s bag, I grabbed his gray hoodie, when something white peeking out from one of the interior pockets caught my attention. Whether it was the unsettling realities of his life on the road, or just plain nosiness, I pulled it out.
It was an envelope.
An opened envelope that David was trying to hide.
My suspicions died abruptly when I spotted the Dodgers logo on it. I paused half a second before pulling the paper out, thinking it was an invite to something David had failed to mention to me.
But as I unfolded the letter, what I read shocked me.
Mr. David Taylor,
Please consider this your third notice.
The misconduct you have exhibited this season cannot continue. Physical altercations with your team mates on or off the field are not acceptable.
Mr. Noah Wright and Mr. Jason Cole have declined seeking retribution, and since these incidents are a first in your career with the Dodgers organization and no reports of the altercations have gone public, there will not be a suspension or fines at this time. Nor has Major League Baseball been notified of these transgressions. Please be aware management may change their decision on any of these matters at a later time.
Furthermore, while it is not required for you to travel with the team, per your contract, it is strongly encouraged. We believe it would be beneficial for you to build better relationships with the aforementioned team mates.
Please take this into serious consideration.
/>
My gaze drifted up as those words rolled around in my head.
Travel with the team...
Fuck me.
He wasn't supposed to have come home on away game nights. No matter how close to home he was, he was supposed to stay with the team.
I pulled on the hoodie, zipping it up. Then, with the letter in hand, I headed to the kitchen.
He was standing at the little kitchen island, plating our breakfasts. Alone. Which was perfect. I didn’t want an audience for the impending discussion.
As I neared him, he looked up, his gaze raking over me. He grinned in approval.
It was a little disturbing how cool and calm he was, as if he had never received the letter. Not a care in the world.
He set the plates next to the waiting coffees, one setting for me, one for him. Seemed Daniel wasn’t invited for breakfast, which bothered me for some reason. David came around the island, gripping my hip, urging me to sit down when he did.
“What is going on? You’re fighting with Noah?” I asked, placing the paper between our plates.
His eyes closed, and he let out a rough breath. “Shit,” he muttered. His gaze met mine. “Yeah, a couple weeks ago.”
Taking my seat, I held his gaze, lifting my eyebrows, asking for an explanation.
Resignedly, he obliged, “We were on the Dodgers’ jet, I was sitting in the back, watching one of our videos.” He gestured between us, indicating me and him as our. “And I caught him standing in the galley behind me, trying to see... I reached up and slammed his head against the partition thing.”
“David,” I reprimanded softly.
“He fucking deserves it,” David defended fiercely, turning to face me, a forearm braced on the island, the other on the back of his chair, making him look bigger and intimidating as hell—to anyone else. “He released my texts, and he saw the ones from you. That fucker had it coming.”
I couldn't deny that. Noah definitely had it coming.
“It says third notice.”
He huffed a breath, reminding me of a petulant teen. “I grabbed a rookie by the throat at the beginning of the season, in Denver, same shit. He was trying to look at my phone, the second was Noah, third was last night when I was talking to you.” He nodded toward the letter. “Fucking thing was in my locker after the game.”
