by J. C. Grant
Don't use the word “them,” dumb-ass. She's right back to the man-whore thing.
I wanted to kill Dawn for causing this stress. We hadn't been married for two full days yet.
Taking a deep breath, I refocused. Seeing her hurt was breaking me, but I had to get control of myself and Austin. I got inside that wall of hers and I hurt her, broke the trust I was trying to build. Now I had to fix it. And there was no way I was letting her run away.
I sat back and looked at Austin, then challenged.
“Why? I told you I'm clean. If you have something, then I already have it.” She was silent, her expression unreadable. “There was only five in eight years.”
“David,” she said, exasperated, with me or the subject, I couldn't tell.
“Whatever you want to do,” I relented quietly. I would do anything to get things back to the way they were just twenty minutes ago—before she answered my phone. I didn't know how to navigate this, so I figured I would go with more truth. “Today, I had Fergus install something on our phones that'll give us remote access. You can check my phone. Go through it whenever you want. And—”
“Same for you,” she finished dryly. Resigned. “How many times have you used it?”
“Once. When you wouldn't answer the phone earlier.” I paused, waiting for a response that never came. “Here.” I took my phone out of her hand and grabbed hers off the arm of the couch. I walked her through how to access my phone with hers.
“What is your obsession with phones?” she asked rhetorically.
Her phone chimed just as I was going to answer her. It showed a text from Zach. I looked at her a moment before I picked it up and read it.
Zach: Are you staying with him?
I went by your house. We
need to talk.
7:05 PM
I showed Austin how to access it from my phone, buying myself time to figure out how I was going to deal with it, considering her current emotional state.
“Is it okay with you if I respond?” I asked, trying to gage her reaction.
This is exactly what I don't need right now.
Her finding out about Dawn the way she did couldn't have possibly gone worse. I couldn't chance giving her any space now—she was going to want to dull the pain. Zach's timing couldn't possibly have been better for her destructive coping mechanism. This was the perfect situation for her.
And my fucking nightmare.
“Responding will just encourage him.” Her tone was neutral. Her sudden lack of emotion was not a good sign and it was making me nervous.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I forced myself not to tell her what I thought. I couldn't risk pushing right now. She wasn't convinced that I was faithful to her. I knew this shit was coming, but I wasn't expecting Dawn to get worse. I stupidly thought, once she heard I was married, she would give up. Now I had to deal with Dawn, Zach, and Mathew.
“You want me to get you something else to eat?”
“I'm not hungry,” she said numbly.
“You're gonna eat.” My tone was hard as I stood and went to the kitchen, grabbing another plate, redistributing my food for her.
I watched her as I walked back over to the couch. She'd shut down. I didn't know how to deal with this—when I was the one who had caused it. Setting the plate in front of her, I sat next to her, gripping her hand. She didn't move. “Austin, nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. I just didn't tell you she was harassing me.”
She turned on me then, hate in her eyes, yanking her hand back. “Why is that, David?”
“When was I supposed to tell you? While I was trying to convince you to move in?” She just stared at me coldly, challenging me. “Because that's when it started. When I was dropping you off? When I was checking my phone, I was texting Jason to tell him I would be there in a minute to pick out your diamond and she called. I didn't answer it then and I haven't since!”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied me, trying to see if I was lying.
“Or how about after the shit at the grocery store? If I would have told you at either time, it would have changed everything.” Her lack of response was pissing me off. “You wouldn't have agreed to move in! You would've pulled away! We wouldn't be married right now!”
“You don't know that, David.”
“Bullshit!” This was why I hadn't told her before we were married. “Fine. I should've told you on our wedding day. It would've fucked up the mood—”
“How about the day after? We had all fucking day alone!”
“I wanted you to myself for one fucking day!”
“You have me every day!”
“Really? Because I don't have you right now. And we couldn't be more fucking alone.”
“You should've told me.”
I exploded, “I wanted you married to me first! Okay! I wanted you trapped with me before you found out anything that might push you away!”
“You should have told me before we got married,” she insisted, suddenly too calm.
“I thought she would stop when she knew I was married! I didn't think it was going to get worse! I didn't know she was insane!” My head fell to my hands in frustration. I tried to think and force myself to calm down. I didn't want this shit coming between us, and she had already shut me out. My voice was low when I finally spoke. “You know this is what they want.”
“They?”
“Dawn. Zach. Mathew.” Just thinking about what might be really between her and Zach turned my stomach. “I'm going to clean the floor. You are going to sit here and fucking eat,” I commanded quietly as I stood, my body strung tight with tension as I went to the kitchen.
As I cleaned, I stewed over Zach and how the Dawn situation gave him the advantage. Once I was done, my decision was made. I didn't hesitate. Walking over, I grabbed my phone off the ottoman. As I watched Austin, she looked up at me expectantly.
“I'm texting Zach back,” I informed her.
“David—”
“Are you in love with him?” I demanded harshly.
“What? No.” She looked confused by my question.
I studied her face, but I couldn't tell if she was lying—maybe because I didn't want her to be. I sat on the far end of the couch facing her.
David: Stop calling my wife.
Austin's mine. Stay the fuck
away from her. This is the only
warning you'll get.
8:12 PM
I sent the text and glanced up to see Austin looking at me.
“I sent it,” I said, watching for her response, waiting for her to ask what it said or check her phone.
Nothing.
She just nodded and turned to the TV. I didn't know if that was better or worse. I couldn't read her at all.
She didn't speak again the rest of the night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Austin
The smell of Belgian waffles and coffee filled the room. I had been lying in bed for hours, long before David got up. The sick sinking feeling from last night was still with me—and disappointment. Now I understood why I had shut off my emotions all those years ago—they were the real triggers. The hurt and betrayal I felt was too much. David made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of feeling, everything from shy and embarrassed, to this deep, soul-searing pain. My chest physically ached. I opened my eyes when I felt his weight settle next to me
“You awake, sweet girl?” David's deep voice rumbled next to my ear. For the first time, his warm voice left me cold.
“Mmm-hmm.” I turned over just as he was setting a breakfast tray over my lap.
“Sorry.”
“I'm good,” I muttered as he lifted the tray up. He was being too nice, trying too hard—it was in his body language, his voice, his overall energy. And it was nowhere near enough to make me feel better. “I'm fine. Get yours.”
“We can't share?” he asked, slightly offended.
“It can't be comfortable for you,” I tried. I really needed some space from him.
“We always share. I'm fine with sharing.” His voice was hard, but the disappointment in it was gratifying.
“Are we okay?” he asked after a long silent moment.
I sipped my coffee, delaying my response. “I'm not mad. Are you?”
“No.” Then his tone shifted to surprised. “You're not?”
Technically, I wasn't mad. I was disappointed and confused.
And hurt.
Last night, I donned an emotionless mask, but inside my emotions were churning. A spiral of hurt, embarrassment, betrayal, and general nausea. I couldn't get the image of David fucking the hell out of some faceless girl with that voice moaning, “Taylor, fuck me,” “I love your cock,” “I need you.” I heard every possible response David could have given, seen every location it could've happened—a club, a dressing room at a shoot, after one of his games, his bed—over and over in my head. All night.
“No. I just wasn't prepared for this,” I minimized. I was expecting the media to be an issue, not women from his past and/or possibly present.
I was quickly falling into old patterns. I was perversely happy when Zach texted last night, letting David have a small taste of what he was putting me through.
“That's all?” he inquired softly, hesitantly.
“I think so,” I lied.
I didn't want to tell him I felt like everything was tainted now, like he wasn't the person I thought I married.
“You know I didn't and wouldn't cheat on you, right?”
“Yeah.” No.
“Then why didn't you want me last night?”
The sadness and hurt in his voice would've broken my heart, but I was too twisted up inside to care.
Actually, it soothed the ache in my chest, if only slightly. I knew it was ridiculous and immature, I didn't know how to handle these emotions, I didn't know how to process them. And I failed at shutting them out. My instincts were warring between hurting him and running away.
When I didn't respond, he turned the TV on and focused a little too hard on his food. The tension was thick between us. After several uncomfortable minutes, he turned back to me.
“You haven't even kissed me since that whole thing last night. You didn't say two words after I texted Zach back.”
“That's not true. We kissed.”
“No,” he corrected. “I kissed you. You didn't kiss me back.”
“David, I don't want to discuss this anymore. Okay?”
“No.” He shifted, facing me. “It's not okay, Austin. We have to talk about this.”
“Every time you bring up Zach I can't stop thinking about you fucking your revolving door of contracted whores. I don't want to do this right now.” My tone was a warning, letting him know this was not something he wanted to push.
His eyes closed, and he took a resetting breath, then swallowed thickly.
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you before the wedding. I'm so fucking sorry, sweetheart.” His voice was a harsh, pleading whisper.
“I wish you had, before I heard her voice, before she started threatening me. The way it happened... makes it hard for me to believe you,” I admitted.
He studied his food, letting my words sink in—I hoped. We both sat silently. I was relieved. I really didn't want to talk. I wasn't a talker in the first place; I sure as fuck didn't want to discuss my feelings about this.
“I get it,” he said, breaking the long silence, sounding defeated. “If it were reversed, I wouldn't let you out of my sight, not for two seconds... I wanna beat the shit outta Zach, so I understand. But the difference is, I would do everything I could to be closer to you. Not push you away or pull away,” he accused quietly.
We fell into an uncomfortable silence.
As we ate, I thought about his words, and realized he was right. Even if he had still been with her or talking to her before we met, it was before. If he hadn't talked to her since I'd known him, I was just allowing her to cause problems. Honestly, if Zach was calling me excessively, I wouldn't be eager to tell David—not to mention all the other stuff I hadn't told him.
But for that brief moment, I thought he'd cheated and I couldn't get myself back to where I was before that. I didn't understand why exactly. Mental. Emotional. Whatever it was, I still felt betrayed.
Eventually, David asked, “Did you see the text about Dawn?”
“No,” I answered hesitantly.
“She was notified of the restraining order this morning. So either the calls will stop or escalate.”
My eyes widened at the possibility of it getting worse. She was calling almost a hundred times a day. How much worse was it going to get?
An hour later, the fencing company arrived and started working. David and I spent the morning and afternoon skirting around each other.
I didn't know why I couldn't just explain to him how I felt. Was it pride? Stubbornness? Just my way of shutting him out? I didn't want there to be a problem, I wanted to believe him without hesitation. But the reality was, I hardly knew him. And I didn't know if I was capable of ever trusting him again after this.
Having no physical contact for almost twenty-four hours seemed to magnify the problem for me. I was already distancing myself emotionally. And I was doing a good job of reinforcing that wall inside me.
We sat three feet apart on the couch, eating dinner in silence, pretending like the other wasn't there—at least that's what I was trying to do. I couldn't stop myself from thinking of all the different ways I could make myself feel better. And ways I could hurt David in the process.
“I want to be inside you,” he stated, interrupting my malicious thoughts. “I need it. We need it.”
“I don't think that's the best idea,” I said numbly. “I know she's been calling all day. And you know Zach has been.” Each call from Dawn intensified the feeling of betrayal, and I wasn’t equipped to deal with it emotionally, I was too raw, I loved David too much.
“I know. That's exactly why we need it. We're letting them put a wedge between us—”
“No. You did that when you chose not to tell me about the calls.”
His eyes closed as he blew out a harsh breath through his nose, pressing his lips together. Then his eyes met mine again, determined.
“I know I fucked up! I handled this wrong,” he defended himself fiercely, “but I didn't do anything wrong.” He paused. “Other than ignore her and not tell you about it.”
Wanting to hurt him, I calmly suggested, “Let's uninstall this stuff on our phones.”
I saw the shift in him—his eyes, his expression, his body—he was my dominant, possessive, alpha-male asshole.
“Goddamn it, Austin,” he muttered harshly. Standing, he yanked me up off the couch, dragging me down the hall and toward the bedroom.
“Stop it,” I gritted, fighting against his grip.
“Struggle if it helps you, sweetheart. Struggle all you want,” he whispered darkly.
“Fuck you,” I hissed.
“I'm about to fuck you,” he growled out, threateningly.
My clit throbbed. I tried to dampen the violent arousal, but my lips parted as my breathing turned shallow.
“You wanna struggle?” His sex voice did unsettling things to me.
Then some small, sane part of me realized what he was asking. “No. I don't want to struggle.”
“Just rough then.” His voice was a promise of delicious, dark things.
I nodded, unable to verbally address the subject we were somehow discussing.
He jerked me forward, smashing my breasts against his chest. Hard. His hands closed around my wrists, roughly moving them behind my back, securing them with one large hand. His warm palm pressing into the delicate skin. My heart hammered in my chest as his mouth lowered to my ear.
“I'm gonna do anything I want to you.” His deep voice was dark with a dangerous edge, and I forgot to breathe. “And you're gonna take it.”
His harsh breath against my skin had me panting with need, tinged with a trickle o
f fear. He walked me backward until my legs hit the bed. Letting go, he gave me a rough shove. I felt the rush of adrenaline as my ass and back met the bed with a bounce. Then he was on his knees, grabbing my legs, yanking me into position. His arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders.
“Anything I want.” His words sounded ominous, his intense gaze pinning me in place as he rubbed his two day old scruff against the crease of my inner thigh. His eyes were dark, determined and above all, possessive. I yelped when his teeth nipped the delicate skin, sending a sharp sting through me. Smirking, he pressed his nose into my covered sex, inhaling. He laughed smugly. “Yeah. You like it.”
I heated with embarrassment at my body's reaction to his rough treatment.
He yanked the material aside. A filthy hungry noise vibrated in his chest as he leaned in, dragging the flat of his tongue from ass to clit. “So sweet.” He did it again. Rougher. More obscene. His stubble scraped my folds and inner thighs.
I felt exposed and vulnerable and uncomfortable. And turned on.
He thought he could fuck our problems away.
I should've been offended, but I was too busy trying not to grind against his face.
My body twitched, resisting as he covered my most intimate areas with demanding, hot licks. My hands shoved at his, clamped tightly on my thighs. Restraining.
“Ugh. David,” I grunted, torn between my building arousal and wanting him to stop.
Then his tongue rimmed my opening and all thoughts of stopping him slipped away. I arched trying to move, trying to get more pressure. I don't know if he did it, or if I did, but his nose nudged my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure racing through me. A moan escaped my throat as my head pushed into the mattress, my body straining for more.
“Yes, please, make me come,” I panted, my body so hot and flush, almost feverish with need. My legs relaxed in his hold and my fingers threaded through his hair, pulling. “Baby, make me come.”
His thick biceps flexed under my thighs as his arms tightened around my legs, a needy desperation in his touch as his face pressed harder into my pussy, eating at me with urgency. I gasped when his tongue speared into me, hot wet and hungry, thrusting as deep as he could.