Playing For Love (23 page)

“Uh. No. I haven't spoken to him.” Which was technically true. He was still calling and texting every day, but I hadn't responded. David had the one time, but that was it.

The repairman walked up, interrupting the neighbor’s next words. We quickly excused ourselves and went inside. I felt a bizarre amount of relief at being in a house that hadn't had a snake invasion. David showed the repairman to the guestroom, then returned to the living area where I had crashed on the couch.

“You seem very happy to be here.” His tone was unreadable.

“I am. A snake-free house. I'm
fucking
thrilled.”

“It didn't get in the house,” he muttered.

“It was huge; I saw it. How did it even get through the fence?”

He didn't respond. I figured he just didn't know, then he admitted under his breath, “Burrowed under.” He quickly added, “Don't freak. It only happened because the fence wasn't on.”

I huffed out a breath.

Did he really think that made me feel better?

“Now we know Zach has been coming over here, just like all his texts say.” He deftly changed the subject.

“Are you still reading his texts?” I asked, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah.” He answered like it was a dumb question.

Which I guess with David, it was. He would be reading my texts even if Zach wasn’t texting me.

“Aren't you?” he asked skeptically.

“Nope, too much stress and pointless.”

After reading the ones from Dawn, I didn't think I could take it. It was the same reason I hadn't looked David up online since our first date—I didn't want any more shit running around in my head, confusing me and my erratic emotions.   

“I really wish I knew why you didn’t want to talk about him or deal with him—at all.” He studied my face and I closed my eyes against his scrutiny. “What's the neighbor’s name?”

“Can't pronounce it.”

“How's it spelled?”

God, he's relentless.
 

“I don't remember her name,” I grumbled.

I heard his rumbling laugh. “I'll find out.”

“Of course you will,” I muttered.

I heard him moving around, and then he lifted my head and shoulders, setting them in his lap as he sat on the couch. I relaxed onto his strong thigh as his hand moved along my arm, the other combing through my hair, soothing me.

“Have any more toys you want to try to sneak into the house?” he quietly teased after several long moments.

“Shut up. I'm going to get a huge strap-on to use on you,” I blurted out.

“Uh.” David and I both turned to see the repairman looking very uncomfortable. “Mr. Taylor, it's done. If you want to come take a look?”

I sat up, freeing David to stand. I watched as his big body stalked down the hall after the man. He turned, giving me a smirk and a wink just before he entered the room.

God, he'd be willing to let me try it.

Chance hopped up, taking David's vacated spot and I played with his soft ears and big, nugget head. The action relaxing me as much as David's rumble carrying down the hall. As horrendous as the day's events had been—dealing with my paralyzing fear and the conflicting turmoil over the cruel death, had been easier than dealing with the Dawn issue. A relief in comparison. That's when it sank in how completely out of control I had allowed my emotions to get in regards to Dawn.  When David entered the living room, the repairman left without a word.

“You paid him?” I asked at the odd departure. Actually, it wasn't that odd, I noticed a lot of people behaved strangely around him, or just famous people in general.

“Yeah.” Then he turned his attention to Chance. “Buddy, you cock-blocked me hard this morning. Now this?” 

Chance nuzzled his head harder into my lap.

“Perfect,” David muttered, going to my room. I heard him open my closet door. Then he yelled, “Getting all your shoes this trip.”

“Knock yourself out,” I yelled back.

Relaxing on the snake-free couch with Chance, I watched as David carried stacks of shoe boxes out to the truck.

“You two don't hurt yourselves.”

“We won't.”

I could hear his throaty laughter coming from the hall.

*****

Sitting in the truck on the way home after David had loaded it full of my shoes, my phone chimed, alerting me to a text.

“Check your phone,” David ordered.

“I don't want to read them anymore.”

“Fine,” he muttered. He pushed a couple of buttons and I heard a disembodied voice.

“You have five missed texts. And three voice mails from. Zach.”

I watched David as he turned into our neighborhood. His face was drawn tight, jaw clenched. 

The voice continued, reading my texts. “From Zach. I made some calls. You're not legally married. Received. At. 4:06 PM

“He's desperate and a fucking moron,” he muttered as he pressed a button and the music cut back on. “He needs to stop while he still can.” There was something dark, something threatening in his voice.   

I watched him, trying to place that tone.

“So we
are
legally married?”

His dark eyes swept over me as he pulled up to a stop sign.

“Of course.” He seemed confused by my question and a little angry. “Do you think I would risk us not being legally married?” He paused. “That's why I paid to get the paperwork pushed through.” His expression and voice hardened. “Yeah, you're
legally
married to me. Bound to me with paperwork and tons of red tape.”

“Okay.”

“Fucking piece of shit,” he muttered under his breath as he pulled away from the stop sign. “He's desperate to get you back.”

“I don't know
why
.”

I didn't understand why he was doing this. He'd cheated on me with a famous pop star and
he
got famous from it. It really made no sense at all. Other than what David had said, he was trying to drum up some publicity for himself.

“
Oh
, I understand
why
.” Then he muttered under his breath, “I'm gonna break his pretty boy face if he doesn't stop.”   

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

“It's just... do you really have room to talk?”

“I'm not a pretty boy,” he grumbled.

“No, you're not,” I admitted. “You're gorgeous. Too handsome. My personal sex god.”

“But not pretty,” he smirked. He reached over, sliding his hand up my thigh. “Personal sex god, huh? Just trying to keep your greedy little pussy satisfied.”

“Uh-uh,” I denied.  

“All you ever say is ‘More, David. More. More. I need more’.” His voice slowly turned into an imitation my breathy cries, making me blush. “Never hear you say, ‘Stop, it's too much
’.
”

I honestly didn't think it would matter if I did say stop, he still wouldn't. Not that I would ever say stop.

We pulled into the long driveway, driving up and into the garage. David opened his door, getting out.

“What about the—?” I started. 

“They found them an hour ago,” David said, opening my door. “About thirty feet down the hill.”

“Are you lying?” I searched his face to find any signs of deception. 

“Not lying, sweetheart. Wait here and I'll check the house real quick.”

He was being so understanding and patient about this. I knew it was ridiculous and I should just go in there and push my fear down or at least pretend to. But I waited in the truck like he said, jumping at shadows. Once he reappeared in the doorway, I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

“All clear,” he announced, walking over to me. “I'm going to unload the truck then get dinner started. You go change.”

Going straight to the bathroom, I showered then dressed in one of his tees and nothing else.

When I came around the corner into the living area, I was met with the broad expanse of David's bare back as he stood at the stove. He seemed to have the same idea as me—minimal clothing. Deciding to tease him a little, I walked into kitchen. 

“Give me twenty minutes,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Okay. Just looking for something to drink.”

Opening the fridge, I leaned up on my tiptoes, pretending to look for something. Then leaned in, just enough to let the bottom of my ass cheeks peek out. It only took a few seconds for me to get a response.

“Sweet girl,” he warned in a low rumbled. “What else you got on?”

I turned, facing him. “Guess you'll have to find out.” Then I quickly jumped away, narrowly escaping his grasping hand.

“I
will
find out.” His threat sounded like a filthy promise.

“I'm counting on it.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Saturday morning, a loud banging noise woke me up. It took me a second to realize I was in bed alone.

Thursday and Friday flew by, David getting up with Chance, making our breakfast, then the three of us heading to the gym, and David fucking me senseless twice a day. That pretty much summed up our routine.

We tried to ignore the harassing calls and texts.

At least I did.

“Buddy, you're gonna wake up our girl.” I heard David's deep voice rumble from the hall.

The bedroom door opened. A second later, Chance landed on the bed, throwing his big body down as he wiggled and thrashed on his back. I cracked opened my eyes to see David standing at the foot of the bed shirtless, lounge pants riding low, and showing that delicious V.

Damn... that shit's lethal.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he rumbled softly, drawing my eyes away from the veins running along that hard V of muscle. “I was trying not to wake you up. Your breakfast is in the warming drawer if you're ready.”

“Yeah, okay. What time is it?” My unused voice was rough.

We didn't have clocks in the bedroom, and last night I'd left my phone in the kitchen—needing a break from the calls. I was on a campaign to not be affected by Dawn and to get my emotions permanently under control. 

David dug his phone out of his pocket. “Eight twenty. We gotta get going.”

“I have that shoot today, babe.”

“I know. At ten. We're going with you. The reporter said he would be there, right?” He walked over to me. Leaning down, his breath warmed my face as he captured my lips in a soft, sweet kiss, his tongue licking gently into my mouth. 

“Yeah,” I breathed when he pulled back.

“I told you.” His deep rasp was like a warm blanket wrapping around me. “I'll take care of all this. I'll deal with the reporter today.” His voice was sweet and tender. Reassuring.

I watched David leave the room, his ass flexing under the thin material of those pants, and his back muscles slithered under his skin. Then Chance rumpled the sheets into a pile and dove in headfirst, reminding me my sexy-ass husband left me with a rambunctious dog.

“Why are we taking Chance with us? This isn't the one who asked for him to be in the shots,” I asked when David came back in with my breakfast.

“Why not? If I don't intimidate the reporter, Chance should.” I couldn't tell if he was joking.

David crawled over me, settling his big body between me and Chance and turned on the TV.

I took them in, sitting side by side watching TV, and it hit me why David chose Chance. They'd both suffered abuse, both had survived it. Both had the scars, physical—and emotional.

He's the most sensitive man I've ever met and the most aggressive.
 

And Chance was just like him.

David

Zach was really digging into my trust issues. I was trying not to think about those texts he was sending her, the shit he was saying... Fuck... just him calling every day was eating me alive.

He was desperate, begging her to meet him, telling her neighbor they're getting back together. I knew what he was doing. It was the whole ‘I got your girl’ bullshit I was trying to keep her away from—the shit all these insecure Hollywood assholes pulled. My concern was, he'd already had her and she hadn't been with anyone since. I wasn't delusional, that asshole getting to her was a possibility. I just never thought he would be so aggressive about it—he was engaged. The fact that he wasn't more concerned about his moneybag finding out was more worrying. Truth was, if he could cause a big enough buzz by taking Austin from me, he wouldn't need his fame ticket. He'd have created his own.  

His relentless determination was really pissing me off. It was a big “fuck you” to me. I didn't want Austin knowing how much it affected me. I refused to let it affect our relationship. And I refused to lose her even if she did fuck him again.

Even if he did “get my girl.”

I wasn't giving her up.

Fergus was working on getting rid of Dawn. I hadn’t told Austin, not wanting to scare her, but we were intentionally letting Dawn escalate. Fergus was having her followed, and she had gone by Austin's house twice now—not knowing where mine was. So I didn't care what was involved in getting rid of her as long as it happened. The more we had to deal with Dawn, the more likely it was Austin would consider Zach. He was pushing the ‘you're not legally married
’
angle. He was pushing the fuck out of it. When she asked me last night, I'd felt sick.

What the fuck did she think? I had a marriage license forged?

She got up, breaking me out of my thoughts, and started getting ready. I got up and took the tray back to the kitchen. Just as I was setting it down, her phone chimed, receiving a text. I was apparently a masochist. I hadn't let her change her number, because I wanted to know what he was doing and saying. I couldn't change mine, needing proof against Dawn and her ongoing behavior. I forced myself to take care of the dishes first, trying to calm down, before I checked it. Between what Zach was trying to do and what Dawn had already successfully done... 

Zach: I still love you. Find a way to

get away from him. We can

be together.

8:49 AM

Bracing my hands on the kitchen island, I took a deep breath and blew it out roughly. Letting my head fall forward, I counted to twenty. I didn't want to smash her phone then have to tell her why—
I'm a jealous asshole who can't control myself.
I should be able to handle her ex doing it when Dawn was doing the exact same thing. Difference was, Zach could compete with me. He was famous. He was attractive. Women were obsessed with him and he'd already been with Austin.

Graphic images of him sinking his cock into her tight cunt, her hot mouth flashed through my mind and a desperate rage coursed through me.

Taking several deep breaths, I got my shit together and went back into the bedroom. Austin was in the closet, looking through her shirts. She was wearing black leggings and one of her favorite bras—black with ivory lace edging. I owed whoever came up with leggings, yoga pants, whatever. And that bra... I couldn't believe I still hadn't fucked her tits. I watched her as I grabbed a pair of worn-out jeans. I couldn't tear my eyes away as she slid on a plaid button-up shirt.

Catching my stare, she asked, “Babe? Are you changing? We need to hurry. I want to stop by the Coffee Bean.”

“Yeah.” My throat was thick with emotion, rage and arousal. 

I quickly changed, still watching her. Mirroring her as she put on her socks and boots. She was my family; she was my life. Everything I wanted was centered around her. She was mine. There was no way I was losing her. No. Fucking. Way. I ripped a shirt off a hanger blindly and put it on.

I'll break every bone in his body before he takes her from me.

Austin

It felt like the first day at a new school when David parked in front of the building with fifteen minutes to spare. Nervously, I grabbed my drink and purse, my jitters growing.

David's hand closed around my wrist as I started to get out. “Let me do all the talking.”

As much as it annoyed me, it was probably better. I was usually rude or inappropriate when I was nervous.

“I'm just going to be polite, sit, and be pretty. You handle everything else,” I agreed, feeling a huge weight lift off my shoulders.  

The smirk on his face—the one of complete male satisfaction—was a little unnerving. I got the feeling he would love nothing more than if I agreed to that arrangement on a permanent basis.

He let go of my wrist, and we got out and headed for the entrance.

Suddenly, he turned, appraising me. Then he grabbed my hand, entwining our fingers and pulling me forward until I was tucked against his side, wordlessly giving me confidence. How he knew I needed it, I didn't know.

He carried himself a little differently, taller, prouder, more aggressive...
something
. I noticed it after we got married. As we entered the lobby, I tucked myself slightly behind him, Chance on his other side.  

I wasn't sure where this sudden shyness came from. This was part of the package that I was pursuing with acting. Maybe it was because of the reason it was all happening—because of who I married, not because of my own accomplishments. Might have been my imagination, but the scrutiny seemed more intense.  

He led us to the end of a long corridor and into a studio with a huge warehouse garage door open to an alleyway.   

“Mrs. Taylor?” A man approached hesitantly.

“Yeah,” David answered gruffly before I could, stepping slightly in front of me.

The guy stopped short, seeming genuinely surprised to see David. “Ah, Mr. Taylor, it's nice to meet you. I'm Joshua,” he said, extending his hand.

Joshua was exactly what I had imagined—a nerdy hipster, glasses and all, my height, and light brown hair. He’d be completely unnoticeable in LA, but not because he wanted to be. There was an arrogance about him. I didn't know if it was overcompensation or he was deluded. Either way, it was laughable and kind of sad, definitely off-putting.

“I'll just… wait for you to start makeup,” he said as he pulled from David's grip, rubbing his hand.  

“Mrs. Taylor, we're ready for you in makeup.” A petite guy approached wearing heavy eyeliner. His silky, smooth black hair was pulled into a perfect man-bun. I was envious of his flawless skin.

I caught David's eyes and took a deep breath, then responded, “Lead the way.”

“I'm Devon,” he said over his shoulder as I followed him.

“Austin,” I replied. I couldn't help but notice his walk was more feminine than mine, making me slightly self-conscious.

As we made our way down a hall Chance’s grunting breaths and David's heavy boots right behind me, assured we wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone.

Entering the makeup room, the bright lights were shocking as I sat in the styling chair. I caught David's proud but stoic reflection in the mirror as the makeup artist gushed over my silver Balenciaga. It was too cute—David was proud of his purse-buying skills. I couldn't stop grinning at him as he lowered his big frame into the chair next to me.  

“So.” Devon interrupted our silent conversation. “Super glam or—”

“None of that paint by numbers shit everyone does. That plastic surgery with makeup,” David answered casually, his voice low and calm, but in the small space, that soft growl boomed. 

The reaction Devon had... I understood. That voice was intense the first time you heard it, and it apparently had the same effect on gay men.

Devon's breath hitched and his hand moved to his neck as he watched David. After a long moment, he cleared his throat and asked, “So you want her natural?”

“I want her to look like her, not a Kardashian.”

“Got it. I'll just enhance her features, not create new ones.”

“Exactly,” David rumbled.

“Not going to be a problem, she has great bone structure.” I didn't know if Devon was being polite or trying to keep a conversation going with David.

I guessed the latter. 

David sat and watched, keeping his side of the conversation up with Devon while playing with Chance and drinking my Green Tea Dream that we'd stopped for on the way.

Dirty bastard, he said he didn't like it. Now look at him.

David vetoed several things before Devon found something he was okay with. I knew he was worried about how I'd be perceived—gold digger, fame whore, wanna-be—but it was a tad excessive. 

“Okay, let's get this hair ready.”

“Is now a good time?” I heard someone ask.

“Yeah, now's fine.” David's voice was hard.

“Um. Okay. Um. Sorry. Uh,” he stumbled. It seemed David was enough to intimidate the guy.

I assumed it was Joshua babbling—I couldn't see with my hair piled on top of my head and tilted down. All I could see was Chance and David's heavy black boots.

“Mrs. Taylor, how did you come to meet David?” 

“I'm wondering why you're the only one who needed follow-up questions in person,” David countered.

“Well, I wasn't sure—”  

“You weren't sure what you wanted to ask? Or you weren't sure what she looked like? Or you wanted to try to get some dirt?”

“No. I didn't—”

“The other two knew what they wanted to ask. So, I'm just wondering why you're different.”

David was barely letting him speak.

“I just wanted to get a feel for her.”

I heard David's chair swivel around, then more silence. I realized Joshua's wording might have been enough to set him off.