Finally Us (True Love)

by Bentley, Harper

  “What?” she asks as I continue looking down at her, all of her.

  “You’re stunning,” I say as I come down to touch my lips to hers, then continue moving them down over her delicate collarbone, kissing, sucking, licking, as I make my way to her breasts taking a nipple into my mouth and pulling on it hard which makes her arch up off the bed with a gasp.

  I do the same to her other breast then continue my journey down, nipping her hipbones with my teeth then on lower to press sweet kisses to the insides of her thighs making her moan in anticipation as her hands at her sides clutch the bedspread.

  “Gonna eat you and make you come for me twice, El,” I tell her and get another moan. “Then I’m gonna fuck you from behind and make you come again.”

  “Jag…” she breathes out, her hands moving in now to clutch onto my hair.

  And I do just as I promised.

  We take a cab to the airport the next day, and upon entering there’s a crowd of media waiting for me, cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in my face. How they knew I’d be there, I have no idea, and now they start questioning me about last night’s game. El tries to get away, but I tighten my hand around hers, keeping her there with me. She looks up at me, her face gone pale, and I wink down at her letting her know it’ll be okay.

  “How’d the arm feel last night, Jag?” a guy I recognize from Sports Illustrated asks.

  “It felt great, Rick,” I respond with a nod.

  “Kennemond was on a six-game hitting streak and you busted that. Anything to say, Jag?” Carla Russell from a local station in Chicago asks.

  I grin then shrug. “Just doing my job.” There are several chuckles from the crowd.

  Everything goes great until some guy I don’t recognize pipes up, “So are you dating Ariana Evans now or Eva Coutu? Is Alessandra Alvarez still in the picture?”

  I scowl at him and grasp El’s hand tighter when I feel her body tense and she tries moving away. “Well…” I look at him waiting for him to tell me who the hell he is.

  “Joshua Reid from TMZ,” he identifies himself.

  Holy shit. TMZ? They’re fucking brutal. I hear El suck in a breath when she hears him and I wrap my arm around her shoulders.

  “Well, Josh,” I clip out because this shit’s personal, but I feel I’ve got to protect El, “as you can see, I’m with Ellen Love.”

  He nods as he writes in his little notebook. “Ellen Love. She someone we’d know?” he asks condescendingly.

  “Only if you’re lucky,” I fire back. Prick.

  And now several questions come at me all at once. Fuck.

  “Ellen Love? I thought she was with Austin Eddington?” someone asks.

  “What happened to Ariana? You were engaged, right?”

  “You and Eva were spotted coming out of your condo just last week. Did you break up?”

  And I’ve had enough. I hold up a hand to shut them all up and when they’re quiet I tell them, “Look. I’ve never been with any of those women you’ve mentioned.”

  There’s a buzzing of talk in response to that then they get quiet again.

  “There’s only been Ellen. We’ve been together since we were in high school. There’s no one else.” I look down at her with a smile and say, “Never will be anyone else.”

  “Ellen!” one reporter yells then. “You were seen with Austin Eddington last Sunday. Seems things were pretty hot and heavy between you two. So you and Jag have an open relationship?”

  Good God. Ellen shrinks into me with a gasp and it’s time to end this shit.

  “We were broken up for a bit and, yes, she dated Eddington for a couple weeks. But that’s over and we’re back together now,” I explain.

  “He’s been booked on drug charges. Ellen, were you involved with that?”

  “She wasn’t involved. She had no idea,” I tell them, now moving us to get away from them.

  “So Ellen’s sleeping with Austin Eddington and you?” someone asks as they all follow.

  I stop and glare in the direction from which the question came and shake my head. It’s no use trying to explain things to these people. I should’ve known better. I was only trying to stand up for El and set things straight with my dating life, which to me is beyond ridiculous that anyone gives a shit about it, but they just want their next juicy story, so it’s no use. I keep shaking my head at them and with my arm still around El we head to the check-in area, ignoring the rest of their questions as they follow us. Once I’ve put in both our confirmation numbers, we’ve checked our bags and now we head toward security, happy to leave the reporters behind as questions are still being shouted at us, cameras still flashing.

  And then someone drops a bomb. “I hear Alessandra Alvarez is pregnant and she’s saying it’s your baby, Jag. Care to comment?”

  El stops right in the middle of the place and she looks like someone’s punched her in the stomach.

  “El,” I say, looking down at her. “Not true. I was never with her. Focus.”

  This is a sore spot for her because of what happened at the party last year when one of the hosts said Alessandra and I would make beautiful babies and I did nothing to curtail that line of questioning. Stupid. I drop my arm to her waist, digging my fingers into her side trying to get her to look at me, but she’s got her eyes closed and it looks like she’s practicing Lamaze breathing or something. Then it’s like she suddenly comes to life as she opens her eyes and turns to face the vultures.

  “You know what,” she says as she glowers at them. “I understand that this is your job. But I hope that at least one of you finds it hard to look at yourself in the mirror knowing that everything in your magazines is nothing but lies that are concocted only to hurt other people. If you can live with that, then good for you.” She turns back around, grabs my hand and pulls me with her towards security.

  “El,” I murmur as we walk but she doesn’t answer. The media are advancing on us again, so I get us to the security line as quickly as possible, not wanting to deal with the bullshit anymore. As we’re taking our boots off and putting our things on the conveyer belt, I try again. “El?”

  “Just give me a moment, Jag!” she hisses at me then walks away from me and into the metal detector.

  Once we get through security and we’re both putting our boots back on, I try again. “El?”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds before she takes a deep breath and lets it out then says, “That was fucking ridiculous.”

  As I tie the lace on my boot then stand waiting on her I can’t help but chuckle a little. “Yeah, it was. I’m sorry.”

  “Will it always be like this?” she ask looking up at me from where she sits.

  I shake my head and shrug. “I don’t know. I guess as long as I’m playing, they’ll try to dig up something. And I should’ve gotten us out of there once they started getting personal, but I thought maybe I could clear some shit up. Apparently not.”

  She stands and looks at me, hands on her hips. “Is she really pregnant?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care,” I reply, grabbing her hand and moving toward the seating area.

  “I don’t know if I can handle this, Jag. If this is what it’s going to be like if we’re together…”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I say stopping and wrapping my arms around her pulling her front tightly against mine as her palms go to my chest as she tries pushing me away but I just hold her tighter. “Just got you back. Not losing you again. Got it?”

  “But…” she starts.

  “No buts about it, babe. You and me,” I bring a hand up and point to her then back at me, “we’re a team. We have questions, we deal with them together, not by reading some fucking magazine, understand?” I dip my head down trying to make her look at me, but she’s busy studying the floor. “And when our kids come along, Jag, Jr. and Coco Reese, well, they’re part of the team too.”

  This gets her attention as she looks up at me incredulously. “Coco?” Her face scrunches up and I burst o
ut laughing.

  “Had to get your attention somehow,” I say grinning down at her, loosening my hold, but my arms are still wrapped around her, my hands resting just above her bottom.

  She’s still looking at me like I’m crazy then she snorts. “Coco,” she repeats as she shakes her head.

  I lean down and kiss her and her arms go around my waist. “You’re amazing, baby,” I say as I pull back taking in all that’s her.

  “You want two kids?” she asks almost breathlessly.

  I stick out my bottom lip in thought then say, “Wouldn’t mind three, but I’m good with whatever you want.”

  “Three,” she says dreamily.

  “And they’ll be the most beautiful kids ever because they’ll look like their mother,” I add. She narrows her eyes at me and I raise an eyebrow daring her to contradict me. “Couldn’t hold a candle, El.”

  Now she frowns. “What?”

  “None of them.” I shake my head as I look at her. “None can even begin to hold a candle to you. You’re everything, babe. You’ve got it all and I want it. You’re mine. Get used to it.”

  Her face flushes and she moves her arms to lock around my neck tiptoeing up to kiss me. When I pull back, I notice several people holding their phones up, snapping pictures of us.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, grabbing El’s hand and leading her to a coffee shop. This way we can sit in a corner and hide out as we wait on our flights. Hers leaves twenty minutes before mine, which was a good call on Ross’s part. I’d hate for her to have to be alone if my flight left first. I’ll have to remember to give him a bonus.

  We find a table then I go to the counter and order our drinks, and upon bringing them back to the table and sitting, El says, “So, in keeping with the rock star names for kids that your family seems to have a penchant for, and since you brought it up, I’ve thought of a couple that you might like.”

  “Hit me.” I smile because the thought of having a family with her is pretty fucking cool.

  “Okay, well, we’re having two boys first then a girl. She has to have her older brothers there to protect her like I did.”

  And that she did. Her brother Robbie gave me a black eye last year at Thanksgiving because of the circumstances of El and my breakup, but he was being protective and I’d have done the same for Starr, so I understood. I now nod for her to proceed.

  “Our first son will be Cash Daltrey unless you want a Jag, Jr.? We could call him Knox.” She raises her eyebrows in question.

  I shrug thinking we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but I do like what she’s picked, and I tell her so. Then I add, “We’ll just have three boys if I decide I want a junior.” Her eyes get big which makes me laugh. “Babe,” I say at how cute she is.

  She giggles then clears her throat and continues. “Okay, our second son is Zander Hendrix.” She looks at me for approval and I have to laugh again because we’re naming kids we don’t have yet, but I get that chicks like to do this kind of thing, so it’s all good, and my nod seems to please her. “And our girl. Well, I’m kinda torn on this.” She bites her lip as she looks at me in uncertainty.

  “Coco?” I ask which makes her snort and swat me on the arm.

  “No!” she says with another giggle and rolls her eyes. “Okay, I like Jett, Etta and Sixx.”

  “Six? As in how many kids we’re gonna have to have to take all these names?” I chuckle.

  “No! Sixx as in Nikki.” She laughs with me and I reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Baby, I’m good with whatever you want. What’s really good is the thought of just being with you. Even better is having a family together. But the best? The best is knowing all the practice we’re gonna have to do to make all these kids.” I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes again.

  We sit and talk until it’s time for her to board then I walk her to the waiting area.

  “You’ll be back Monday?” she asks.

  “Yep. Home opener. Can’t wait. Brewers. I should start the second game.”

  “Good,” she says and tiptoes up to kiss me, lacing her arms around my neck. “I love you,” she says when she pulls back.

  “Forever and a day, babe,” I mutter and kiss her again and then she’s gone.

  Chapter 19

  El

  Jag flies in Sunday night and stays at my apartment. He’s pissed because they lost all three games to the Braves, but I gladly make him feel all better.

  Monday morning, I work at seven-thirty, so I leave him in my bed, kissing his handsome face goodbye before leaving. He said he’s going to the clubhouse around two, and I get off work at four, so I text him during the day and wish him luck telling him I’ll be at the game. He texts back telling me not to bother since he’s not pitching and just to watch it on TV at his place to which he gave me a key this morning.

  After work I go to his place and explore for a bit, finding that it’s not only huge but beautiful. I didn’t get to see a whole lot of it the first time I was there, so I take advantage now. When I’m finished exploring, I’ve got the TV blaring his game so I can hear it because I end up in his guest room clearing out boxes that he’s left unopened, putting things away for him since I’m bored and he hasn’t had a lot of time to do so. Well, I do that after I rearrange his cabinets and drawers in the kitchen to where they make a lot more sense than what he had them. And after doing a couple loads of laundry for him. And a load of dishes. And dusting the hardwood floors. He really needs a maid.

  The Cubs lose, which is a bummer but we’re all used to it by now, but I’m excited because he’ll be home now for eleven straight days. We’ve planned to stay at his condo for most of that time because he told me he wants me to get used to it, clearly hinting that he wants me to move in with him, which I fully intend to do once I’m sure we’re good. Maybe he won’t need that maid after all, which doesn’t mean I’m going to do all his shit work, but I hate a messy house and if I’m going to be there anyway, I know I’ll clean the place.

  When he gets home, he’s, of course, mad that they lost, but we both know it’s the curse of the Cubbies, so he’s not too upset.

  I go to his game the next night since he’s pitching; they win and he does great. He’s able to stay in for eight innings before the relief pitcher comes in and gets the save. When he gets home, he’s stoked. His arm seems to be back to one-hundred percent performance, which is a huge relief, and things are back to normal.

  The next six days fly by and he’s up to pitch again. This time they get beat by the Rangers and although he hates losing, it especially bothers him when he’s the starting pitcher and they lose. But I can tell he’s grown up a lot because he doesn’t take the losses as hard as he did when he first started in the pros. I remember him going for hours not talking to me when he was with the Dodgers, stewing in his anger the whole time, but now, although he’s still pissed, at least I’m not bearing the brunt of it and he talks to me when he gets home.

  But I’m telling you, the sex after he loses? Wow. It’s phenomenal, almost as if he has something to prove and, by golly, he can prove to me any time that he’s not a loser because it’s that good.

  I always make it home before he does on game nights, so tonight when I get home I change into shorts and a sweatshirt and make dinner, crab and ricotta cannelloni, his favorite. When he walks in the door, I’m setting the table when I hear him say, “Come here.”

  I glance up at him, and the look on his face is so intense, I swear to God, I almost come just looking at him. I walk to him on shaky legs and he grabs me, pulling me hard against him, wrapping his arms tightly around me. He brings his face down to mine, running his nose against the side of mine.

  “Need you, babe,” he murmurs.

  “You got me, Jag,” I whisper back.

  He bends putting his hands under my butt and picks me up, my legs winding around his waist, then he turns us and pushes me against the door as his mouth comes down hard on mine. We make out for a bit and I
can feel him hard against me. He sets me on the floor and yanks down my shorts and panties and I kick them off. Next, he pulls my sweatshirt over my head and growls when he sees I’m braless, bending to take my nipple into his mouth which makes me arch against the door with a moan.

  He undresses quickly then picks me back up as before, pushing me against the door, and taking hold of his length, lines himself up then surges up inside me.

  Oh, God, I think I love when he loses.

  I’m moving up and down against the door with each rough thrust he makes and he comes fast with a deep groan. He breathes hard against my neck as he continues holding me and I run my hands through his hair, trying to soothe him, kissing the top of his head, the side of it, telling him he’s the best, they’ll get ‘em next time.

  He pulls away and with a grimace says, “Sorry, babe. I’ll get you off later,” then gives me a deep, wet kiss, which more than makes up for my lack of an orgasm. Sliding out of me as he sets me down he says, “Stay here,” and goes to the bathroom to get a washrag.

  Once we’re dressed again, we sit down to dinner, and he’s thrilled that I made his favorite. And later that night when we go to bed, he makes good on his promise giving me mine.

  The next night I’m working as one of the PT’s at his game. I text to let him know and he texts back saying he’ll see me there later.

  When I arrive at Wrigley around four-thirty, I go to the training room and see him talking to Isaac, one of the trainers who’s been working with him on his shoulder. “Hey,” I say to both of them.

  “What’s up, shorty?” Isaac asks and gets a dirty look from Jag, which makes me snort.

  Jag immediately puts his arm around my waist pulling my front to his side and bends down to give me a deep kiss. “Hey,” he says when he pulls back, his eyes glittering down at me.

  Oh, my.

  “Hey,” I say back breathlessly.