Vince grins at me, smoothing the lapels of his three-piece Armani suit, with his damn driver behind him, standing beside the Bentley town-car parked in the driveway. His eyes raise to the sprawling house around us and he makes an unsettling clicking sound with his teeth as he shakes his head.
“So, nice place.”
“Get to the point, Vince.”
He turns back to me, a little smirk on his face as his lips curl into a sneering grin. “Guess we’re both cheaters now, huh? A little bit of equal footing with all of this nonsense between us?”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling my temper rise. “I don’t see how you could possibly think that.”
Vince sighs dramatically as he pulls out his phone before turning the screen towards me. It’s a picture of Austin and I walking into the stadium for that first day of practice, his arm around my shoulders as he leans down to kiss me.
I ignore the wave of conflicting emotions tumbling through my stomach at the memory of that and everything that’s happened since. But I push that away and scowl at Vince as he takes the phone back.
“He’s my husband, Vince.”
Vince grins. “Of course he is, babe,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
“How exactly am I a cheating piece of shit like you?”
He laughs. “Well, I don’t seem to remember us breaking up, Natalie.”
I stare at him incredulously, feeling the heat rise in my face. “Well, I remember you banging your secretary, Vince.”
He waves his hand. “A hiccup. All relationships have rough patches, Natalie, and I didn’t bail like you and go and get married - like you did, when you already belonged to another man.”
I shake my head at him, my mouth open and not quite sure if he’s just saying this to try and be an asshole or if he truly believes I’ve wronged him somehow.
“This is absurd, I’m closing the door now.”
“Well, hey, maybe you learned to suck a dick now and then since-”
I slam the door as hard as I can, but Vince’s boot jams inside and stops it from shutting.
“I’m not done, Natalie.”
I swallow quickly, looking up and seeing something wicked in his eyes that sends a cold chill down my back. Vince is stronger than he looks. Not Austin, of course, but there’s more to his weasely, slender frame that you can tell by looking at him.
He leans closer, grinning. “You know, I think I like you scared.”
“What do you want?” My voice is small, weak sounding.
Scared.
“Well, Natalie, despite our history and your disgusting betrayal, I actually came by today to see how my loan is coming along.” He sees the confused look on my face and grins. “But I’m betting your husband didn’t tell you about that.”
“Vince I don’t know what you’re talking-”
“I know you don’t, Natalie, but I’m going to make sure you do.”
Something about the way he says it makes me retreat further inside myself, hunching my shoulders and half-backing behind the door like some sort of cornered animal.
“Your boy-toy and his daddy owe the family money.”
The family.
I don’t even have to ask him to clarify, because I can see from the evil glint in his eye exactly which “family” he means.
And I know what that means.
I feel a cold dread shroud over me like a veil as I slowly shake my head. “Why are you telling me this?”
“It’s a lot of money, Natalie, and debts need to be paid.”
He plucks at an errant piece of lint on his suit before he looks back up at me, a look of triumph on his face like he’s won something.
“But you know, I’m a forgiving man.”
Fear tingles through me as I hold onto the doorframe like a lifeline, forcing myself to breathe.
“No one cheats on me, Natalie.”
I clench my jaw, the indignity of his accusation pushing through my fear. “I didn’t-”
“And when you figure that out and come back to me, well,” he smirks. “Maybe we can work out our own little arrangement, since you’re so good at those these days,” he says, arching an eyebrow at me and then turning his gaze back to the house around me.
I stare at him, shaking my head and feel the anger creep up my neck. “Are you trying to buy me back?”
“I’m giving everyone a way out, Natalie.” He clasps his hands in front of his chest, eyes looking skyward. “It’s just what I do.”
“You are out of your mind if you think I’d ever be with you again, Vince.”
“I’m just saying think about it babe, it could very much be worth your while.”
He grins wickedly.
“And his.”
I glare at him. “Vince-”
“You think you’re the only one, by the way? With Austin, that is? Where is he right now, Natalie? Where’s this loving husband of yours?”
“Get your foot out of the door before I call the police,” I hiss.
Vince holds out his phone again. This time, there’s a picture that looks half grainy, as if shot through a telephoto-
I freeze as my eyes focus on the image of Austin, on a yacht of some kind, grinning with his arm around a very pretty girl with strawberry hair.
I swallow quickly, swallowing the emotion along with it as I dart my eyes back to Vince. “That’s an old picture,” I say thinly.
“That was taken an hour ago.” Vince smirks at me again as he slips his phone back into his pocket.
He turns on his heel and strolls back to the car, his driver opening the side door for him.
“Think about it, Natalie.”
He turns back to me just before he steps into the car. “Debts will be collected.”
I slam the door and lock it as his car pulls away, sinking down against it and burying my face in my hands.
32
Austin
The house is dark when I come home, and I sigh.
So much for the apology Stella coached me into that I’ve been rehearsing out loud for the past hour in the car.
I kick my shoes off and pad through the dark house. I grab a tumbler and a bottle of bourbon from the bar cart in my living room and slump onto the couch. Buckley jumps up and snuffles at my arm as I pour a couple fingers before bringing it to my lips and taking a deep pull of the amber sweetness.
I sigh as I glance around the dark house. No music or TV on anywhere, no sign of her at all.
“The hell are you, Natalie,” I murmur out loud, taking another sip of bourbon.
Buckley whines, rolling onto his back and showing his belly just at the sound of her name.
“Dude,” I turn and grin at him. “You’re seriously going to have to quit playing favorite with my girl, traitor.”
My girl.
I roll my eyes as I drop my head back on the couch.
I think of the little voice in my head that I ignored, that first night at the Chateau Marmont when I saw her. I think of putting my fucking nose where it didn’t belong in the lobby the next day.
I think of that stupid fucking ice cream shop.
The deal.
The napkin.
The fact that I still have it, tucked in a drawer at my desk up in my study.
At this point, I honestly have no idea what the fuck I was thinking. This arrangement of ours hasn’t actually done anything but make both of us crazy. I’m not signing any deals, I’m not different.
Or am I?
I shake my head as I bring up the tumbler and knock back another belt of my drink.
I’m not alone anymore in this giant house - nothing on Buckley of course. And I’m not chasing meaningless tail trying to fill some sort of boredom or emptiness with random women I don’t give a shit about.
And then, there’s the way she looks at me.
“I get that I’d kill to have a girl that looks at me the way she looks at you.”
I swear. Goddamn, how’d she get into my skin like this? This whole thin
g was a deal - a play, a move, like any other I’d take on a football field after the snap puts the ball in my hands.
And yet there she is, buried deep and fucking. My. Shit. Up.
I kick back the rest of the bourbon, and I’m reaching for the bottle to top off when I stop and wrinkle my brow.
Seriously, where the fuck is she?
I slip my phone out of my pocket, rolling my eyes at what a damn pussy I feel like texting her like this.
Where are you?
I toss the phone onto the couch next to me as I drop some more booze in my glass. It buzzes, the screen lighting up the darkness of the room before I snatch it up.
Out.
I grumble. Yeah no shit.
Out where?
I want her here. I want her home. It’s possessive, and raw, and ridiculously macho, but it’s the only thought going through my head.
Of course, part of it - hell, most of it - is that I want her again - I’m craving her. I want to hear her moans, dripping in my ears. I want to watch her eyes close in bliss as the orgasm crashes over her face.
I want to feel how her body clenches up around me tightly when we explode together.
But it ain’t just sex, and that’s the fucked up part. If this whole thing was just about getting laid, I’d have two cheerleaders over here right fucking now fighting to see who’d get to first ride. Or I’d be at some shitty God-awful club pulling something strange.
Buckley leans over and licks my hand, and I groan.
Because here I am: home, alone with my dog, drinking whiskey.
I am every country song I grew up hearing my mom play on the kitchen radio.
My phone lights up again, and I glance down and frown.
Out having fun, just like you.
Fuck this.
I pick up the phone and call her.
“The fuck does that mean?”
There’s club music blasting somewhere muffled in the background when she answers the phone.
“It means I don’t play games, Austin.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m not.”
“Sure, whatever you say,” she mutters dryly.
The music changes up behind her, bass thumping like a drum into the receiver.
“Where are you?”
“Hey babe!”
My vision goes red at the sound of some fucking guy’s voice there with her.
“Come back and dance, gorgeous!”
I growl out loud, every muscle in my body tightening as the rage comes bubbling up.
“Who the fuck is that.”
Natalie snorts. “Austin, drop the possessive shit, okay?”
“Who is that,” I say again, my voice tense and edged.
“It’s a nice guy I’m going to have a drink with, okay?”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
“You’re my wife.”
“Austin-” There’s hurt in her voice, something off and something cracked.
“I have to go.”
The line goes dead.
Buckley growls lowly on the couch next to me.
“Exactly,” I mutter, abruptly standing and storming for the front door. I snag the keys to the Land Rover in lieu of the Vanquish this time, since it seems more appropriate as the war chariot it’s basically about to be.
Because fuck this, I’m going to go find my wife.
This is war.
33
Natalie
The club guy I’m only half-heartedly dancing with is every club guy - a cookie cutter version of every obnoxious, trying-to-hard guy with “vintage” clothes and an ironic haircut.
I mean the man is wearing sunglasses.
He’s basically the literal opposite of Austin, and I wasn’t about to actually have a drink with him, I just said it to get under Austin’s skin. But now here I am, reaping my karma and pushing condensation around my untouched glass of wine with the king hipster of the club.
“So, what’s your deal, babe?”
I shake my head, smiling thinly. “Look, I- thanks for the drink, but-”
“Todd.” He grins, nodding his chin at me.
“Uh, what?”
“In case you missed it, I’m Todd.”
I smile thinly. “Right, well, Todd, thank you, but I should go.”
“Aww, now what’s the hurry?” He pushes his sunglasses down his nose and gives me a “lady-killer” look over the top of them, which might work, if your name is Don Johnson, in Miami, in 1985.
I’m about to brush him off, when he slides his hand over my knee. I shake it off.
“Look, I’m married, okay?” I smile thinly again at him as I bring my left hand up.
He grins and holds up a ring finger with a gold band on it. “Me too, babe, so what’s the problem?”
Gross.
I stand from my bar stool. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Hey, hang on, babe.”
I start to walk away, but Todd’s hand shoots out and grabs my arm.
“Let go of me,” I whirl and hiss at him.
He grins. “But I just got you, honey. I don’t wanna let go of-”
A hand comes out of nowhere, knocking me aside and ripping him away from me.
Austin.
Todd shrieks as his beer dumps into his lap, whirling on Austin. “Hey what the fu-”
His words freeze as his jaw drops. “Austin fuckin Taylor?”
Austin looms over him, looking furious. “Get your fucking hands off my wife.”
Todd’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit man, I am so fucking sorry-”
“Go.”
He nods eagerly. “Yeah, you got it boss.”
Austin turns to me in a flash - eyes smoldering.
I glare at him. “Are you going to make a habit of threatening men who talk to me?”
“If they talk to you like that? Yes.” He growls. “What the hell are you doing here, Natalie.”
I mean, he’s right, the place is so far outside my comfort zone it’s not even funny. It’s loud and dark, with people screaming, and thundering house music blaring around us.
If Todd is any barometer of the class of the place, well…
I narrow my eyes at Austin. “I’m out, having fun.”
“Oh, having fun? In this fucking place, with that fucking guy?” He leans closer. “You know what it looks like? You out flirting on the town?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh please.”
“It’s unbecoming.”
I bark out a laugh. “Says you?”
“Yes,” he growls lowly. “Says me.”
“Listen,” I hiss out, poking my finger into his chest. “I can flirt around the town as much as you can, pal. I’m not your clean little trophy wife.”
He glares at me, his jaw tense and his eyes flashing.
“Let’s go.”
He grabs my arm, but I hiss at him, shaking it off.
“The hell we are. I’m staying here.”
“Damnit, Natalie-”
“I can be dirty too, you know.”
Austin freezes, his eyes snapping back to mine. Suddenly he’s right against me, making me gasp as I feel the bar-top at my back.
“Oh you want dirty?” His voice, his lips right by my ear.
I shiver.
And without thinking about it, as if with a mind of their own, my hands slide up to his t-shirt, pulling at it.
I nod slowly, and he grins, his eyes flashing.
“Yes,” I grip his shirt tighter, feeling the energy and the pure need for him coursing through my body like lightning.
He leans in, his lips brushing across my own, the heat of his body so close to mine. His hand slides across my hip, pulling me into him. His fingers slip beneath my shirt, skimming across the soft skin of my belly and making my breath catch.
His lips trail to my ear. “I’ll show you dirty.”
I gasp as he suddenly grabs me, pulling me through the club, my pulse pounding as the swirling crowd blurs past us. The heat and the thr
obbing desire for him throb between my legs - a need that aches for him.
Austin kicks the back door open, ignoring the security guard that shouts something at him as he pulls me out of the club and into the dark, back parking lot.
I moan as he spins me around and pins me up against the side of his black Land Rover, and before I can even catch a breath, his lips are on mine. I whimper into his mouth as he kisses me, my hands clawing at his shirt, pushing up under it to rake my nails across his skin. He’s pushing his hand under my skirt, and I moan out loud as his fingers trace across the front of my panties.
His other hand slides up and under my strappy top, pushing it up and over my bra-less breasts. He groans as his fingers find my nipples, pulling away from my mouth and dropping his lips to the rosy nubs, hard under his touch.
We’re grinding against each other, gasping and pulling at each other’s clothes. I wrap my leg around his waist, groaning as his fingers push my panties to the side and find me soaking wet and ready for him. I can feel the hot throb of his cock, pulsing against my leg through his jeans.
He’s so hard against me, and there’s something so hot about him taking me like this.
Taking what’s his.
Austin reaches over and opens the passenger side door to the SUV. I moan as he suddenly spins me around and growls into my ear.
“Get in.”
I start to climb into the car, when his hands slide over my hips, pulling my ass back until I’m kneeling there in the passenger seat with my skirt around my waist.
His fingers find my panties, and I gasp as he yanks them down to my knees.
Oh God.
His mouth sears against me, and I moan out loud, clawing at the car seat as his tongue pushes deep. His hands slide over my ass, pulling me into him and teasing over my skin. His fingers slide between my legs, finding my clit and rolling it under his thumb as I arch my back, pushing back into him.
I’m panting, moaning, knowing that anyone could walk out here and see us.
It’s like the final, illicitly filthy piece of the puzzle, and suddenly I’m coming.
Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 71
