Playing For Love (20 page)

“What's your schedule like this week?” I asked, trying to keep up pretenses. 

“Taking care of you. And Chance.” His voice was soft and sincere.

God, he can be so fucking sweet.

But those texts made it seem like he was fucking her and I wasn't up for discussing it.

Twenty minutes later, David called me over to the table, where he had set up our dinner.

As soon as I sat down, the weight of Chance’s big head was in my lap. Playing with his silky, floppy ears, I tried to calm myself and the sick twisting feeling inside.

David sat down at the head of the table and pulled his phone out. “The interviews are tomorrow. Ten, three, and five. The first photoshoot is Saturday, then Tuesday and Thursday.” His tone was businesslike as he read my schedule.

He looked up from his phone when I didn't say anything. 

“We need to go to the gym and your house tomorrow, decide what we're bringing over.”

“Okay.”

My eyes swept over him. No matter how I felt, I couldn't ignore him and his godlike body. He was a really good cook and I was pretty sure he was smarter than me too. He made me feel like a schlub. And that feeling made him cheating a very real possibility. I had never been insecure about a man before, and I didn't like it.

“I want a trainer,” I mentioned as I started eating.  

“I'm your trainer,” he said sternly with a side-eyed glare.

“No. Seriously, I want to be in better shape if I'm going to be under scrutiny all the time,” I said between bites.

His eyes narrowed and his voice was hard. “No one is training you, but me. So forget it.”

The finality in his tone gave me the feeling he was aware of my feelings toward him at the moment. Unable to hold his intense gaze, my eyes darted down to my lap, to Chance silently taking the small bites I gave him.   

“So,” David broke the long silence, “Zach's texted you a few times today. He went by your house again.”    

When I didn't say anything he went on.

“I don't want you responding to him. Or Dawn,” he ordered. He waited until I looked at him before he continued. “I'm going to deal with Zach, okay?”

I nodded. 

“Dawn is being taken care of.” At my expectant expression, he added, “Fergus is working on getting rid of Dawn.”

I didn't know what that meant but it sounded ominous—it was disturbing how that thought made me feel better. 

*****

Our morning wasn't going smoothly. The new day didn't bring any new outlooks for me, and the problems with not knowing each other very well showed up first thing this morning. David made the one food I could not tolerate, as in couldn't even stand to see other people eat. Oatmeal. There was no way around it; I had to tell him. My feelings toward him and those texts may have leaked through a little in my explanation because I hurt his feelings or something in the process. I knew this because we did our morning rituals and dressed in absolute silence. 

I also knew this because he took Chance out to the garage without a word, then came back in and said, “We'll be waiting in the truck.” Then turned around and walked back out.  

We were half-way to the gym, when he finally broke the silence, “Why don't you tell me everything you don't like to eat, so we don't have another morning like today?”

I listed everything and tried to explain why.

He was patient and sweet, making me feel bad. 

When we pulled up in front of the gym, Chance popped up in the backseat. From the alarmed expression on the valet's face, I realized Chance was a hundred-and-forty-pound dog that might scare the shit out of David’s employees.    

David's hand gripped mine as I reached for the door handle.

“Wait. Let me do something right this morning,” he muttered as he got out of the truck.

I instantly felt worse. I was punishing him again and again. I couldn't seem to stop myself. And I couldn’t bring myself to discuss the texts I read, it would show my insecurity and I couldn't imagine anything worse at the moment.

“You haven't done anything wrong,” I argued when he opened my door.

“Really? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure my wife is starving and isn't going to be able to get through a fucking workout because of me,” he berated himself as he opened the back door, letting Chance out.

Making me happy, taking care of me was so important to him. The power I had over him was intoxicating. I liked it far too much.

The attendant stepped back, giving us plenty of space as we walked by. With Chance’s black coat and his pale green eyes nearly glowing in the early morning light, he kind of looked like a jaguar, except for the floppy ears.

He was a little intimidating. 

Taking a deep breath, I willed the fresh air to hit an emotional reset button for me. This was exactly what I needed today, the gym in the early morning with the crisp air coming off the ocean, everything felt cleaner, happier. 

David opened the door for me, patiently holding it as Chance hesitantly entered the unfamiliar space, then quickly darted to my side—moving much like a jungle cat, gaining the attention of everyone nearby.

For the first time, I noticed how the smell of the gym comforted me, made me feel safe, gave me a sense of security. It had a clean, fresh smell, like it was being scrubbed down twenty-four/seven.  

We silently went to the office, putting our stuff and rings away and went out to the floor. I was still hurt whenever I saw David without his. It was completely irrational and with everything going on I was surprised I felt anything about it at all.  

Chance followed us around, never wandering, as we worked out. David questioned me about wanting a trainer and wanting to lose weight. He listened to my concerns, then dismissed them.

“You need to eat,” David announced gruffly when we finished our last set. Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed my hand, pulling me after him as he started across the gym. His sweetness from earlier was fading and his dominance was creeping in. I had a feeling it was a reaction to my refusing to talk about what was bothering me. He'd tried a dozen different ways during our workout to get me to open up without ever directly asking. It seemed his patience was wearing thin.

He led me and Chance down the hall past the office. Opening the door at the end, David turned on the lights, revealing a commercial kitchen, large stainless steel appliances lining the walls.

“I haven't been spending as much time up here since I met you... A protein shake will do for now.”

I hopped up on the metal counter, watching him move around, making my shake and getting something for Chance. He seemed so committed to me, but he was devastatingly gorgeous. I knew I wasn't the only one who reacted so violently to his proximity. I just never let the reality of that sink in. The calls and texts from Dawn were an unwelcome reality check, making me feel insignificant.

David walked me back to the office, my big threatening shadow. He seemed more protective today. Maybe because of Zach or Dawn or our bad morning. Whatever the reason, I didn’t mind; it eased my fears having him hovering possessively, like he was afraid someone was going to steal me away.   

“Drink that,” he directed as we entered the office.

He shut the door behind me, then went to his desk. Seconds later, he looked up at me.

“Put these back on.” His tone was demanding as he held my wedding rings out to me.

I noticed his was already on his finger.

“After my shower.”

“Now,” he insisted. “I don't like seeing you without them.”

His hard tone caught me off guard. His dark eyes watched me intently as I took the rings, slipping them back onto my finger.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I was nervous. Mostly because David had pretty much wrapped himself around me, a combination of his neediness and nosiness. I barely had time to eat and shower before the call. She didn't broach any non-approved topics, but did ask about the pics from the club. David had explained on the way to the gym that the night at the club was our first date—as far as the public was concerned—not that he'd stalked me and I'd basically fucked a complete stranger in a club—you know, the truth. Midway into the interview, someone knocked on the office door and Chance freaked, alerting Sandra, the interviewer, to his presence. I explained he was my wedding present. Fortunately, him being a rescue was a winning topic with her and took up the rest of the interview. She even wanted him in the photos. I only hoped the rest went so smoothly.

“That was great, sweetheart. Perfect.” David unwrapped himself from around me and stood up. His sweetness from before our workout had completely morphed into dominance and was steadily getting worse. “Let's take Chance for a walk.  I need to finish my work and you can finish reading that folder. Then we'll go over to your house,” he insisted.

“Okay.”

When David pulled into my driveway, two hours later, I noticed my mailbox was overflowing. I'd completely forgotten about my mail, which prompted me to remember I needed to pay my bills. Being with David was consuming, my regular life and responsibilities were completely forgotten in his presence.

“Stay here with Chance. I'll check the house real quick,” he rumbled, getting out of the truck.  

I was alarmed by the seriousness in his tone.  I lived in a safe neighborhood, so I knew his concern was from Dawn. As I watched him enter my house I realized how serious he was taking her threats and that maybe I should too.

When David came out of the house, our eyes caught and he winked, instantly putting me at ease. I climbed out as he went to the mailbox, returning with nine days’ worth of mail, tossing it in the back of the truck and letting Chance out at the same time.

“Should've been forwarded already,” he muttered, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him.

I didn't know if he meant he should've done it already or he had and it shouldn't still be getting delivered here. As soon as I stepped into the house, it felt foreign to me, like it had been months, not days, since I was living here full-time.

I followed David as he went straight to my room, to my closet, pulling out clothes. That was odd, too—that he was so comfortable in my house, considering he had only been here twice with me and had never been past the living room.

“Some of those are winter clothes,” I said when he started pulling out flannels and heavy sweats and knee-length wool coats.

He pinned me with a look, a warning or dare, I wasn't sure.

“All your clothes are coming. You're not keeping a spare closet here.” I could tell from his tone my feelings and attitude about those texts were getting to him.

“It's not all going to fit in the truck,” I pointed out, getting another look from him.

“I know. I'm coming back tomorrow for the hole in the wall to be fixed. I'll get more then.”

“That still won’t get them all, and I need boxes,” I tried to delay the inevitable.

“You got more luggage?” he demanded.

I nodded.

“Use that for now.”

“I didn't know we were moving stuff today,” I complained.

“Why would you wanna wait?” he countered.

It was a statement, but I felt the weight of his words. He wanted more security with everything that was going on, but there were some things I didn't want David to see.

“Austin.” His deep voice startled me out of my thoughts. “What do you not want me to see?”

Fuck, I hate how he can see through me.

He was going to freak. It was just a vibrator, which got very little use, and a dildo—it wasn't as big as David, but still.

“Nothing, babe. Just sentimental girl stuff that I probably shouldn't still have. Like embarrassing boy-band crush stuff,” I lied. 

He watched me for a long moment, not looking convinced or pleased with my answer.

Probably both.

“Who was your crush?” he questioned.

I rolled my eyes and faked embarrassment. I just hoped he bought it.

After thirty minutes, we took a break and went through the house. The only furniture I wanted was my desk and armoire, they were both mid-century. The desk was from my grandfather; it was beautiful and sentimental.

“Okay. We'll rearrange my office—”

“I don't want to share an office with you. I want my own.” I tried for gentle, but it didn't quite come out that way.

“Why?” he demanded.

“I could never concentrate surrounded by your stuff.” I wasn't willing to share office space with him for many reasons. The biggest being I would never be able to focus with him sitting in the same room with me. That body, that voice. We'd just fuck each other to death.

He smirked. “Okay. You can have the office downstairs by the bedroom.”

Ahh. I thought it was a storage closet.

“Is it big enough?”

“Plenty big,” he answered, smirk still firmly in place.

I went back to filling my suitcases with my clothes, and he continued emptying my closet.

“Where's Chance?” David asked suddenly.

I stopped wrapping my self-fuck devices in my tees and turned around, listening. Nothing. But I was irrationally afraid of walking away from my stash.

“Ummm… Call him.”

“I'll be right back,” he muttered, walking out of the room.

I quickly grabbed my suitcase and shoved my toys into the hidden pockets. Then I dumped as many tees, hoodies, leggings, and sweats as I could in there and shut it.

Once I knew my items were safely hidden, I went to find the boys.

“He certainly isn't shy in this house,” David said as I walked around the corner.

David and Chance were on the couch. Chance had strewn my dirty laundry all over the living room. Thankfully, there wasn't much, but they were all items I didn't want David to see—that's why I didn't take them to his house originally—my fat clothes and my granny panties.

“Oh, my God,” I mumbled, scrambling to pick them up before David could get a better look at them than he already had.

“I like the granny panties.” His amused tone caused my face to heat with embarrassment as I continued collecting my garments.

“Hey.” His large hand settle on my butt, groping. “I'm glad you have this stuff.”

I tried to ignore him, but his fingers pressed between my cheeks, separating and digging into my flesh.

“Don't be embarrassed. I wanna see all this stuff.
Everything
.”

“Whatever. Keep saying that. Until you've seen so much you aren't attracted to me anymore.”

“That's what all this is about? You think if I see too much of you, I won't want you?” he asked, surprised and maybe relieved.

“
Obviously
. That’s how it works, David,” I muttered, dryly.

“Not with you. The more I learn about you, the more I want you. To take care of you. Be with you.” His voice turned to a sexy growl. “Fuck you.”

I continued gathering my clothes, ignoring him, not liking where this conversation was heading.

Then he asked, “Is that how you feel about me? Are you less attracted to me the more you find out about me?”

I took a second to consider my answer. The more I knew about his childhood, the more I wanted him. The more I found out about his previous relationships, the less I wanted him.

The last part is normal, right?

The doubts I had about his possible recent interactions with Dawn were diminishing, but it didn't change the way her calls and texts made me feel. I was twisted up inside, and reading those texts was a huge mistake. Some were explicit, retelling their activities. Some were heartfelt, in-depth I love yous. I felt like I didn't have the position with him I thought. I wasn't special. He'd fucked her for seventeen months. How long before I was the next Dawn?

Just stupider, because I married him.

I tried to push the thoughts away. I didn’t want to feel this way. I didn't want to be this person, but my heart
hurt
.

“Some parts, yes. Some parts, no,” I whispered.

“What parts?” His voice let me know how serious this talk had become—relationship altering.

“Dawn. Your relationships.”

His jaw flexed. “It makes you not attracted to me? Because of how it makes you feel? Or because it changes how you see me?”  

“Both.” I swallowed, the weight of what I was admitting settling over us.

His jaw hardened, his nostrils flared, and his lips pursed briefly as he grinded his teeth.

“I read some of her texts,” I admitted quietly. “I'm trying to get over it.”  

He looked at me from under his brow, his intense gaze searing me. “That's why you wouldn't touch me Friday. Why you wouldn't let me touch you yesterday or in the shower earlier.”

“I still want to be with you.” It came out a little like a question, mostly because it was. I couldn't shake the need to run away from him, from these emotions. 

His energy shifted and his eyes turned to steely determination. “I'm not letting you go... I'll find a way to make you want me again,” he promised fiercely. He didn't wait for a response. Standing up, he took the clothes from my hands and went back to the bedroom.

I sat heavily in his vacated spot, thinking and playing absently with Chance’s big ears. David took load after load of my things to the truck. His eyes stayed on me as he walked past me, never saying a word, but his expression spoke volumes.  

“I want to get home before the next interview,” David announced, standing in the front entry.

I silently stood and walked out, past David with Chance right behind me.

The drive home was uncomfortably silent.

David pulled into the garage, parked, and turned off the car. “Go inside,” he muttered before he got out and started unloading my clothes.

Silently, I took Chance into the house. To say I felt unwelcome would be an understatement, but that could've been my issues. I went to check out the office that would soon be mine—mostly just avoiding David. It was a good-sized room, which made me wonder why David hadn't used it for his office.  

“Stop hiding, Austin, and get in the kitchen.” David's stern voice boomed in the empty room, startling me.

I took a moment to let my racing heart slow down before going to the bedroom to change into some loose sweat shorts and a baggy tee.

I made my way across the massive living room to the kitchen. Sitting down at the island, I stared at David’s broad back, watching his muscles shifting under his shirt as he added things to whatever he was cooking.

Glancing at me over his shoulder, before he turned back to his task and muttered, “Good. You changed. I don't have the patience not to shred those leggings today.”

I was completely thrown by his words. We hadn't had sex in two and a half days, which was a record, but I wasn't feeling it after our earlier conversation.

“I'm cooking pasta and shrimp with sundried tomatoes.” His tone was unreadable.

The tension between us had been growing since I admitted how I felt and it didn't feel right for him to continue on as if nothing was wrong. “You don't need to do everything for me. I can make my own lunch,” I said softly.

With his back still to me, he shook his head and laughed, a deep gravely sound, almost cruel or mocking. I didn't understand it. Did he think it was a joke? Did he think I was a joke? With my erratic unstable emotions that was a real possibility.

“Calm down,” his voice was low and hard. “I can feel you freaking out.”

The tension between us grew in the following silence, he didn't look at me again and I found myself watching my fingers trace the veins in the marble, a childish habit—tracing things with my fingers—one I used to help myself disconnect.

“Eat, before your call.” He sat a half-full plate in front of me, interrupting my process. “I'll take care of your problem after you're done.”

“What problem?” I asked hesitantly as he came around and sat next to me.

“That I haven't fucked you in three days.” His voice sounded like sex—rough, aggressive sex.

My breathing sped up, my body responding to him on a primitive level. It was confusing. My mind wanted nothing to do with him because of the Dawn situation and my emotions were all over the place.    

“Yeah. That's all you need. Get you outta your head.” His tone shifted, sounding annoyed. “Stop thinking about that stupid shit. I told you I had arrangements before I met you. And two girlfriends. I never fucking saw any of them more than once a week. I never
loved
them. Only
you
. You're my whole fucking world.”