Playing For Love (21 page)

My eyes darted away, rolling in disgust or annoyance. I couldn't tell anymore.

The mention of his previous fuck buddies was a bucket of ice water on my arousal. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye as I studiously ignored him, picking up a shrimp, nibbling at it.

“I want you to nibble on my cock like that.” His deep voice was rough with arousal, catching me off guard.

I ignored him and my body's response as I got up to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Fuck. I'm sorry,” he murmured sincerely.

I wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, but at the moment I didn't care.

“You don't need to take care of me.” I kept my voice level and polite as I sat down, never looking at him.

A low, frustrated growl rumbled out of him, filling the kitchen. Something about it pushed me.

“How much furniture in this house is from your condo?” I asked staring at my plate with barely restrained anger. It had been eating at me since she called. Was he fucking me on the same bed he fucked her on?

“Nothing,” he swore, understanding evident in his voice. “Everything in this house is new. The condo is still fully furnished, nothing came over but my clothes.”

My back stiffened at that, I hadn't let myself go that far, but his comment sent me there. I couldn't stop the images of a girl on her knees pulling down his gym shorts, his worn jeans... Suddenly, all his words sank in.

“You still own it?” The outrage in my voice was clear as I stared at my plate trying to control myself.

“Yeah, I kept it because of her. I didn't want her here.”

“You what?” I yelled, turning to face him.

“It was before I met you,” he insisted, his eyes begging me to believe him.

Taking in my expression, his lips parted, he looked nervous. 

“I'll get it rid of it. I swear, since I met you I was planning on selling it.” His jaw clenched, he looked desperate, helpless and furious all at once. “I just thought we'd wait until the market got better.”

Without responding, I turned away from him, I needed to get my emotions under control, not worry about his.

We ate in silence for several minutes before I got up and dumped my half-eaten food in Chance’s bowl. Then I placed my plate in the sink, staring at it, debating what I should say. 

“I'm going up to the movie room to take this call,” I muttered flatly, refusing to make eye contact as I walked past him to the dining room table. A loud bang startled me, making me jump. I took a deep, calming breath as my brain registered it was David hitting the counter. I quickly grabbed my phone from my purse and headed toward the stairs, my heart racing. I could feel his predatory gaze on me, but I refused to look back.

The second interview was a breeze. She was easily sidetracked with Chance, who didn't follow me this time. Admittedly, it hurt my feelings that he chose to stay with David. But thirty minutes into my call, David opened the door. He and Chance sat on either side of me in the black, oversized reclining theater seats. David lifted the arm rests separating us; then his hand was sliding up my thigh, pushing under my sweat shorts, coming to rest centimeters from my sex.

I endured ten minutes of his fingers and thumb brushing across the sensitive flesh at the crease of my thigh, grazing my bare pussy.

Then the interviewer said, “I'm really surprised that Mr. Taylor agreed to this. He's never discussed the women he's dated. He's never confirmed any relationship.
Before
now, that is.”     

I didn't know what I was supposed to say to that. It felt as if she said “you're one of many.” It certainly wasn't helping me get past this emotional road block I had reached.

David's hand inched higher, fingers parting my lips, and I grabbed his wrist, letting him know I wasn't interested.

“Thank you for talking with me.”

“Of course. Thank you,” I muttered, already pushing End call.

“That went well?” he rumbled, easily sliding his hand higher up against my hold.

“David. Don't. I'm serious.” I tried to get away.   

“Austin, just relax. Close your eyes,” he whispered. His tongue ran along his bottom lip as he leaned in. 

“No. David, get off me.” My cold tone brought him to an abrupt stop.

He pulled back, searching my face. “What?”

I shook my head, reluctant to talk about it. “I just can't,” I muttered.

He sat back heavily in his seat. His eyes closed as his head fell back and he blew out a harsh breath. Eventually he said, “She knew not to ask—”

“She didn't ask. She just mentioned them. And it's not what she said.”

He sat up, turning to me, his eyes searching mine—looking for what, I didn't know.

“I know you feel insecure about—”

“Fuck you!” I snapped.

“I'm trying.” At my confused expression, he added, “To
fuck you
.” 

“I don't want you to fuck me.”

“It's what you need. You don't feel connected to me, and you're letting all this shit affect you. Affect
us
.
Again
.”

And that was all the nudging I needed.

“I'm curious.” My voice was level but laced with venom. “Did you take Chance with you for the suck and fuck or did you pick him up after?”

He stilled.

My blood ran cold at his expression. I expected him to deny, reassure me. I was venting my fears and frustrations, not expecting a confession his eyes foretold. 

“Where did you hear that?” he breathed. “That term?”

I forced myself to speak around the lump forming in my throat. “Dawns texts.”

He let out a harsh breath, staring at his hands with a hopelessness that terrified me. After a too long moment he spoke. “I haven't cheated on you,” he whispered desperately. “I haven't fucked anyone, but you since the day we met—hadn't fucked anyone for almost two months
when
I met you. I don't even let women flirt with me.” His voice was growing thick with emotion. “I know that one time at the store I acted like I didn't mind, trying to make you jealous. I'm so
fucking
sorry I ever did that. I fucking love you more than myself. I would never do that to you. Austin—”

“I have another interview in an hour,” I cut him off, unable to listen to anymore. “I don't want to do it when I'm pissed at you, and I don't want to be so mad that I start crying... And her texts make it sound like you are currently fucking her.” My jaw clenched and I swallowed thickly, my nose stung and I willed him to leave before the tears fell.

His assessing eyes took me in. Then his expression hardened.

“
Fine
.” He stood and walked out.

Tears spilled from my eyes when the door shut behind him. I didn't know if he was right about the lack of sex being the problem. If it was, I didn't know how to get past this sick feeling, this
‘
I want to crawl in a hole and disappear. I want to go to my house and escape from this overwhelming pain’ impulse. These emotions were confusing. I didn't know what to believe. I didn't know how to deal—other than get away from him.

I sat with Chance and watched TV, trying to calm down before the next interview.

David

I was furious.

And scared.

And just fucked up.

Fucking Dawn and her texts
.

I should have known this would happen with Austin's trust issues. I never thought she would actually think I was cheating on her, though.

She was shutting down on me a little more each day. Pushing me away. I hoped she would get control on her own. But she wasn't. Her emotions were all over the place. This opened up something in her she couldn’t handle.

It terrified me, frustrated me and pissed me off equally.

I wanted to throw her down and fuck her, let her scream and fight and kick until her body's primal instincts took over. Until she opened up and listened to me. With her past, that was a terrible idea, but that was exactly what every cell in my body was telling me to do.

I was a selfish fuck.

At the time, I'd been too focused on her reaction. Now I understood that wasn't jealously she was feeling when Dawn called, at all. It was devastation. It was who she thought I was, what she thought we were, shattering into a million pieces. The kind of hurt and betrayal that made her not want me. The texts had only made it worse, reinforced it.

I gotta fix this.

Fergus had to get rid of Dawn now. I didn't think my marriage would survive his plan.

Restless, I organized Austin’s clothes, trying to squash the instinct to go upstairs and fuck her into submission, into opening up to me. After hanging some, folding others, and taking a few to the laundry room, I moved on to the suitcases. Hoping, if I paced myself, we would get done at the same time.

Taking slow deep breaths, I tried to calm myself, reminding myself of how damaged she was, how this issue with trust was to be expected, how I shouldn't push her into anything she didn't want.

Don't be the cause of more trauma.

My instincts and my mind were at odds.

Because she wanted it.
I knew deep down she wanted me to take her, needed me to. Needed me to force her to submit, to take control of all those emotions she couldn't handle. She was spiraling and it was my job to take care of her. And my instincts hadn't been wrong with her yet.

After emptying the first suitcase, I moved on to the second. She had crammed it full. Ridiculously full. I dug through the pockets, just like I had with the first, but unlike the first, they weren't empty.

Pulling out the rolled tees, I laid them on the bed, unrolling the smaller one. It took half a second to realize what it was. Then another to realize;
This was what she didn't want me to see.
A hot pink vibrator. She had gone out of her way to get it here without me knowing. It wasn't very big, maybe five and a half inches, but she'd said I was a close second to a vibrator. Unless there was another vibrator in her bag, this was probably the one she was referring to—since she
just
had
to bring it. I unrolled the other. Irrational jealousy coiled in my insides.  

A purple fucking dildo.     

Fuck this!
     

She wasn't going to fuck me because of a meaningless arrangement that ended six weeks before I met her? But made damn sure she had these?

My cock raged at the thought of her fucking one of these. Letting one of these toys make her come when I was more than willing and more than capable of doing the job.

Fuck no!

Nothing was fucking her but me. Not even her own hand—unless I was telling her when and how. I stared at her fuck toys. My body heated with jealous rage as I wondered how many times these had been inside her. Had she used them with other men? Who did she think of when she used them?

I forced myself to wait until she was done with her interview before I went up there.

She was watching TV when I walked in. Chance was laying with his head in her lap. He got love and affection while I was getting nothing.

That was about to change.

“You finished already?” I asked, sitting in my previously vacated spot next to her.

“Yeah. He said he would be at my shoot to do any follow-up questions.”

“Which shoot?”

At my hard tone, her eyes shifted to me. Her voice was small and quiet when she answered.

“The one on Saturday.”

“I'm going with you,” I informed her brusquely. “I need you to come downstairs with me.”

She studied me, trying to gage my mood. She could tell I was pissed.

“Why?” she edged.

“Found something in your suitcase I'd like to discuss with you. Now.”

Her face smoothed into a practiced, neutral mask.

That's what I fucking thought.

She didn't bring them for me to use on her. She brought them to use when I wasn't around. No fucking way.

“Come on.”

Her chin lifted defiantly, her eyes determined, she simply said, “No.”

“Austin. Get up, now.” I kept my voice even but stern. I loved her fire and challenge as much as I loved her submission, but this was one area she would not be getting her way.

She stood, going the long way around so she wouldn't have to walk past me. I waited by the door, watching her slow progress. She motioned for me to go ahead of her.

“Please, you first.” It took Herculean effort not to throw her down and take her right there.   

“No. You go,” she said, staying out of my reach.

“Are you afraid of me? Do you think I'm going to do something to you?” I questioned sincerely.  

She looked at me a moment before she answered. “No. But you're mad. You're probably going to yell at me.”