I wonder if there will ever be a time where I am completely confident in our relationship. When I won’t be waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I won’t be waiting for him to up and leave me.
I want to trust him implicitly and trust our love for each other but it seems like things keep getting thrown at me. Things that make it hard for me to trust him and the way he says he feels about me and feels about us.
AWAY GAME GET-TOGETHERS ARE PROBABLY my favorite part about the baseball season. I quickly walk up to Amalie’s door and knock. Paul, one of the owners of the lingerie company Amalie models for, answers the door wearing nothing but a pair of skin tight yellow skinny jeans. I am almost shocked, but that’s impossible when Paul’s around. I never know what the man is going to say next, let alone what he’ll be wearing. He smiles widely and wraps his arms around me. I tuck my face in his neck and can smell the sweet booze pouring off of him.
Lemon drops.
“I want to take sexy pictures of you, Libby. Amalie and her fantastic body are leaving me and I need to fill my time with big beautiful tits, and only yours will do,” he cries out as I break away from his embrace.
“What?” I ask, my eyes wide in shock.
“Amalie is leaving me because that huge, sexy man can’t keep his gigantic dick out of her and knocked her up again. I want to do a shoot with you next. Like today,” he squeals. David walks up and wraps his arm around Paul’s waist.
“He has a big, magnificent cock, get that shit straight,” Amalie calls out as she walks into the living room, carrying a tray of fresh veggies.
“Tell us what Pete’s packing downstairs. I mean, I need to know. That man is dirty and nasty, it’s written all over his skin.” Paul’s eyes stare at me hungrily and my face turns bright red.
“I- I honestly couldn’t tell you if it was big or not. I have nothing to compare it to,” I admit bashfully. The whole group stares at me in disbelief.
“Hold on,” Paul says, running away. Less than a minute later, he’s back with an assortments of fruit and veggies.
“Is he a cucumber, a banana, an ear of corn, or one of Axel’s corndogs?” Paul asks with a serious look on his face. I look up and everybody else is practically on the edge of their seats waiting for my answer.
This is the silliest conversation I think I have ever had in my life, and I can’t believe I’m going to partake in it. My eyes take in each item on the table and I truly think long and hard. He’s definitely bigger than the corn dog and the banana, so I move those out of the way and really take in the corn and the cucumber. They are close to the same length, but their width is a bit different. The corn is pretty fat, and I don’t think Pete is quite that big around, but he’s not as narrow at the cucumber either.
“Bitch you better give us an answer. Swear to Jesus, I’m getting heart palpitations over here,” Paul screeches.
“I guess he’s the size of the corn, but not quite as thick,” I admit. Paul gasps before covering his mouth and starts jumping up and down.
“Shucked or un-shucked?” Paul asks, his tone completely serious.
“Un-Shucked,” I admit, my face burning red.
“Damn it, I knew that boy was packin’,” Paul cries, again. My eyes widen and I look around the room; all of my friends are smiling widely, like maniacs.
“I mean, he’s not as big as my Jarrod, but he’s definitely got a cock, not a penis,” Amalie grins.
“Welcome to the giant cock club,” Maggie whispers, causing me to double over with laughter.
“Oh, I want couples pictures now. It’s definite, I need them,” Paul cries, clapping his hands. David just rolls his eyes with a grin.
“Why do you need them so badly now?” Victoria asks, narrowing her eyes on Paul with a grin on her lips.
“Everybody needs a spank bank, honey, even if David is my main man. I still have fantasies,” he quips. I can’t help myself, I fall to my side and start giggling, then full on belly laughing, until tears fall from my eyes.
“I’m not sure Pete is going to be as understanding as Jarrod has been, Paul. You better not tell him about your fantasies,” Amalie warns. Paul just glares at her.
“Baby girl, any man in this world would think of it as a privilege to star in my fantasies. I’m fucking fantastic, bitch, and you know it,” Paul practically screams. The room is silent for a whole minute before we all start bursting into a fit of giggles.
“Let’s watch the game. Jesus, you bitches are crazy,” David groans with a big smile.
The rest of the party is fairly tame for our group, and I feel lighter, happier, and more content as I make my way toward home. I declined cocktails because I drove, but I should have drank. I should have drank a gallon of booze, because what awaits me at my apartment door is too fucking much for me to handle sober.
Standing at my door is none other than the chunky assed, bad hair dyed, bitch herself, wearing a cheap mini skirt and tube top. Her make-up is caked on, and it looks like it has melted a bit in the New York humidity.
“Can I help you?” I sneer at the bitch.
“Yeah, you can stop giving Pete guilt trips and stop being dramatic by moving into a hotel so that he can scrape your ass off and be with who he really wants,” she growls.
Her voice is deep, raspy, and sounds like she’s smoked a pack a day since she was two years old. I usually love sexy, raspy voiced women, but this bitch’s voice is like nails dragging down a chalkboard.
“Why won’t you just go away? He doesn’t want you. Do you want fame? Money? What exactly do you want?”
“I want it all. I want that fat cock, I want his money, and I want him. Bitches like you already have it all. Go get a man with nothing and leave the somethings for girls like me,” she screams.
Somewhere in the distance, I notice that people are coming toward us, but all I can see is this damaged, overly made-up bitch talking about my husband—my husband’s fat cock. My fat cock.
I can’t stop myself. It’s as if my brain has floated away and I’m acting on pure animal instinct. I reach out and grab a handful of her shitty straw-like hair. I pull it back before balling my fist and punching her in the face.
Unfortunately, punching bitches in the face hurts like hell when you have zero clue how to do it. I cry out from the pain and jerk my body back, but I don’t let go of her long black hair. I have it in a tight grip, wrapped around my fist.
“You fucking bitch,” she wails, reaching up to grab a fist full of my hair.
I pull back my high heeled foot and kick her, stabbing my heel in her thigh, which causes her to scream and fall to the ground, with me on top of her. I straddle her waist as I cry out from her grip on my hair. It feels as though she’s skinning my fucking head, but I punch her in the cheek with my throbbing hand, again. She tries to punch me, but I pull back. Then my body feels weightless as somebody pulls me off of her.
“Leave my fucking husband alone, you whore,” I scream. I glance down and notice that the arms wrapped around me belong to a police officer’s uniform.
“Checked your text messages lately? Besides, he wouldn’t come for me if you weren’t such a crazy bitch and didn’t know how to fuck him,” she screams back at me. I look up, noticing that we are surrounded by police officers and paparazzi.
Fucking hell.
Fuck it.
“He threw you away like the trash you are. He doesn’t want your used up, whored out, stretched out pussy, bitch. Leave him alone,” I scream as the police officer, who has me in his grips, drags me away from her. Another officer is dragging her in the opposite direction. I hear her nails-on-chalkboard voice scream something else, but I can’t understand her.
“Fucking hell, Libby,” the vaguely familiar voice curses behind me as he, very loosely, puts my wrists in cuffs.
“Who…” My voice dies when Niklas, Amalie’s brother, spins me around. I almost get lost in his pretty blue eyes, which are almost identical to Amalie’s. He’s such a handsome man, and in his uni
form, he almost makes me blush.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he admonishes with a slight smile.
“That bitch came to my door,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, and you threw the first punch. She also looks like she’s been beat to shit and you look completely untouched,” he adds before pushing me gently into the back of his police car.
“It’s not my fault the whore can’t fight,” I mumble. Niklas throws his head back in laughter.
Crazy fucker.
“Libby, what the hell?” Niklas asks as he drives me toward the police station.
“She slept with Pete, then tried to talk about their affair on television. I squashed that shit, but then the paparazzi showed me some picture of them together this morning. Apparently, she tracked Pete down and was trying to talk to him, but he told me that she seemed high,” I blurt out, unable to hold my damn tongue.
“So you beat her ass?” Niklas asks, a smile to his tone. A chuckle follows his words.
“She was talking, in detail, about what she wanted from Pete and I kind of lost it,” I shrug.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right? I’ll call Amalie before we get there so you don’t have to be there long,” he offers. I gladly accept.
Niklas is only on the phone for a moment, but I don’t listen. Instead, I stare out the window and wonder how I became this lunatic woman? Love. Fucking love makes you crazy.
“When we love people, we do crazy shit,” Niklas says as we pull into the police station, mirroring my exact thoughts.
“You speak from experience?” I ask, wondering if he’s speaking of his best friend Eric. He stalked, hurt and kidnapped Niklas’s sister, Amalie, all in the name of love.
“I do. I loved Eric as a brother, and I was blinded to his actions because of that. He hurt my sister for far too long, and I did nothing to stop it. I was too fucking blinded by the love I had for him. She even tried to tell me the truth, and I thought she was being overly dramatic. What kind of shit brother am I?” he asks, staring out the window, watching but not seeing the parking lot to the police station.
“You couldn’t have known he was as crazy as he was, Niklas. People hide themselves from the rest of the world,” I mutter, catapulting back to the day Amalie was taken and how devastated we all were.
“I still visit him, you know?”
I don’t respond as anger rolls through my body. This man he is speaking about violated Amalie, his own sister. He kidnapped her and stabbed her; plus, he could have killed poor Axel because she was newly pregnant at the time the whole thing went down. Yet he still visits him? I don’t get it.
“I keep hoping that he will change, but he shows zero remorse, Libby. He doesn’t care that he hurt my sister. He is crazy. And Amalie’s friend, Jo? She’s just as insane,” he admits. My ears perk up. I haven’t heard a word about Jo in over a year. The last I heard, Amalie had tried to contact her after Axel was born, but she wouldn’t return her emails or phone calls.
“Jo?” I ask curiously.
“She and Eric have filled out a petition to become married. I just don’t understand her, or him. I just don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head. I close my eyes.
“You have to let her live her life and you have to let him rot in that hell, Niklas. You can’t change them,” I say. He nods.
“You are right. I cannot make them behave like normal people, just as you cannot make that woman behave as a rational normal person, either. All you can do is worry about yourself and your relationship with Pete, Libby. I have seen fairly normal individuals turn into crazed people over infidelity issues. Do you trust and believe him or don’t you? This is a decision you must make.”
“What are you, a marriage counselor now, Niklas?” I joke.
“No, Libby. I am just a man who sees people’s lives crumble daily. I love my sister and all of you are her family. I want to help anyway I can, especially since I abandoned her for so long,” he murmurs, stepping out of the car. He then opens the door for me to slide out of the backseat.
Niklas speaks the truth. I need to either trust Pete or not. Fuck that skank bitch and her want of my husband. She’ll never have him again; and if by chance he wants her, he can have her. I won’t stand in his way. I am not going to drive myself insane with worry, stress, and rumors.
I can’t do it.
I have buried my head in the sand for far too long, and all it has gotten me is heartache. I am not going to turn a blind an eye and just immediately trust Pete, but this, believing everything the paparazzi and my imagination conjures up, is only going to hurt us and kill me inside.
Once we go inside of the police station, Niklas fingerprints me and asks me a million and five questions. He does keep me away from the rest of the criminals by taking me over to his desk once he is finished. I am studying my phone, trying to figure out how I am going to tell Pete that I was arrested, when another officer strolls up and leans a hip against Niklas’ desk.
“The other one declined pressing charges.” He stage-whispers as though I have no clue what he’s talking about.
“Good. Women like that, always starting trouble,” Niklas remarks with a grin.
“You know all about those troublemakers, don’t you Aagaard.” He winks at me and turns, slowly walking away from us as though he hasn’t a care in the world. Maybe he doesn’t.
“Niklas?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. He just waves me off and pretends to be engrossed in his computer.
“Libby!” Amalie’s voice cries throughout the station and I stand up to see her hustling in my direction. Every head turns her way as she practically runs toward me and then wraps me in a hug.
“I’m all right,” I say soothingly. She backs up but keeps her hands wrapped around my shoulders.
“That crazy bitch attacked you. How are you all right?”
“Libby was the crazy bitch, Amalie. That poor girl is beat to shit,” Niklas interjects. She chuckles as I flip him off.
“Libby?”
“She wouldn’t stop talking about Pete’s… ear of corn. I couldn’t take it,” I admit. Amalie bursts out laughing.
“Okay, let’s get you out of here. The boys will be back tonight and I’m sure Jarrod has already informed Pete of your little incident,” she says, grinning. My eyes widen and I shake my head.
“I didn’t want him to know,” I cry. She just keeps smiling.
“Honey, the paparazzi are swarming this place. Everybody already knows. Heiress gets arrested after catfight with the other woman. There’s no getting out of it, no sweeping it under the rug; this one is just too juicy.”
I groan as I follow behind Amalie like a wounded puppy, knowing she is right.
What a damn nightmare.
The paparazzi are just as Amalie said they would be, right outside of the police station. Flashing light bulbs fill my vision and screaming questions fill my ears. I ignore them both and hustle with my head down. I’m sure the bitch is going to give interview after interview of how I abused her, but I can’t seem to give much of a shit. That dirty whore is trying to start trouble and trouble is going to be exactly what she gets.
It all makes sense now—the mysterious text messages were always from her, trying to get me to leave so she could swoop in and have Pete. Little does she know that if he truly wanted her, he’d have her. There is no more contract to keep him by my side. That thought should comfort me, but it doesn’t. Not yet, anyway.
Sliding into Amalie’s crossover SUV, I jump when I feel a cold hand on my shoulder and spin around to find Victoria and Maggie in the back seat. They both smile.
“You fucked that puta up right?” Victoria asks, her eyes narrowed.
“Oh, yeah, she did. I saw her.” My eyes widen and I turn to Amalie, who is pulling away from the curb.
“You did?”
“Niklas sent me a picture on the way out. You tore that girl up,” she states. I burst out laughing.
“First, it’s Pete getting into f
ist fights out on the field, and now it’s me doing it in the hall of my apartment. We’re too damn angry,” I sigh, staring out the window, watching the buildings flash by.
“Los told me what that asshole said out on the field. He told me if somebody talked to him, about me, like that, he would have done the same. Pete was only suspended from one game. Should have been more, but they took into consideration how that catcher behaved and the fact that the umpire heard it all.
“You guys are still finding your groove, and it doesn’t help that, technically, he cheated on you with that woman and God knows who else. It’s going to take time to trust each other. You know he has to be able to trust you, too—that you won’t run off again. It’s a two way street here,” Victoria points out. She’s so right, it’s not even funny.
“You’re right. You’re one hundred percent right. We have got to be one of the most messed up couples on earth, I swear.”
“But you’re working on it, right?” Maggie asks quietly from the back.
“Yeah. The two of us, without the outside shit, we’re actually doing pretty well,” I admit, thinking about all of the fantastic sex we’ve been having. Aside from that, there is also the fact that we’re actually talking and discovering that we like each other.
“Distract him when he gets home. I mean, you guys can talk about all of this later, but be ready and waiting for him in something super sexy,” Maggie suggests.
My brain goes into overdrive thinking about all of the sexy lingerie Grammy Lillian and I bought together. Maggie might be quiet, but she can also be a fucking genius. I’m going to seduce my husband. Distract and seduce. It’s the perfect plan.
I RUSH INTO THE APARTMENT, quickly shower, freshen up my makeup and hair, and then go digging through my new lingerie purchases. I wrap the thick waisted garter belt around my lower abdomen and slide the silk thigh highs up my legs, attaching them to the stays.
The garter has boning every few inches and a see through mesh that shows off my skin beneath. It’s sexy as shit and it makes me look curvier than I am. I decide to go without panties, since they usually just get in the way anyway. On top, I slide on a completely mesh bra that has just hints of a lacy design around the bottom of my breasts. My nipples are completely exposed beneath the fabric and I tweak them to make them hard for a sexier look.
Forced Play for Libby (Men of Baseball #3) Page 16