Hooked

by A. M. Hargrove

  My choice of location works, because I find a brand new roll of paper towels to clean both of us up before straightening her clothes and turning her to face me.

  “The dress worked,” she says, grinning at me.

  “If you call this working.”

  I’d been called many things, a patient and gentle lover and a man who takes his time giving pleasure as much as he gives. But with her, I feel like an animal who acts only on instinct.

  “I like when you go growly caveman. It’s hot.”

  “Keep dressing like this, and we’ll be the next headline after Justin. Caddie Goes Wilde.”

  She laughs. “You’re not my caddie anymore.”

  It shouldn’t bite, but it does. I liked being out there, helping her see the shots. We’d felt like a team, and she needed me. But knowing she’s mine, tamps those feelings down.

  “What am I?” I ask with a lopsided smile.

  “Mine.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  Her hands reach up and fiddle with my tie and shirt collar before smoothing down the lapels of my jacket. Then she tucks her fingers under my waistband ostensibly to fix my shirt.

  “You keep your hands there and we’re moving on to round two.” Her radiant smile has me swallowing. “Do you know how beautiful you are tonight?”

  “With you looking at me that way, I feel it.”

  We should probably go, but I have to kiss her again. This time is slower as I savor the taste of her.

  The rest of the party I play the gentleman making small talk as Riley works the room. So many people want her company as we are hardly given any time alone. She’s stepped off to talk to a rep from Make-A-Wish as I watch, drinking her in. That’s when my best friend comes over to stand with me.

  “So, Riley,” Fletcher says.

  We’ve talked some, but he’s been more than a little busy. And the last real conversation I had with him, I told him I’d fucked her and it was a one-time deal.

  “Riley,” I say, repeating her name before taking a sip of wine from my flute.

  He claps my back. “It’s about damn time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “Time for you to settle down.”

  I nearly choke. “Fletch, we’ve just started this thing. I doubt she’s even ready for marriage, and who’s to say I am?”

  “Uh huh, what about in high school over the summer that one year and what happened between you two?”

  “You knew?”

  The kiss Riley and I had shared back then had been far too brief. And then she’d left to go back to California.

  “Mom saw the two of you and asked me about it.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That I didn’t know shit.” He laughs. “Not in those words. But you hadn’t told me, though I thought you’d eventually say something.”

  “Well, it was only that once.”

  “And now?” he asks.

  “And now I’m making up for lost time.”

  Later that night, I do just that. Steady are our nights. It’s like after all the fast and rough, I have to prove to her that I can take it slow and easy.

  The next day, the woman fawns over my godson. And Riley hears the news about standing up for her brother at his wedding. Then they talk dresses.

  “I’m not wearing a tux unless Mark is wearing a dress,” Riley says.

  That gets a lot of laughs at my expense.

  “I’m seriously considering making him wear a kilt,” Gina says.

  I groan, praying she’s kidding as everyone laughs more. Then we watch our friends and family go, one by one. Everyone’s going back to their lives. Even I have a moment to miss them for a second once we are alone.

  As we get ready for dinner, I keep snatching glances to make sure Riley puts on something that won’t leave me hard for the night.

  “What?” she jokes, catching me glance at her.

  “Just wondering if I need to go buy a cock ring.”

  She laughs. “You know that’s used to keep your dick hard.”

  “I do. But it accomplishes that by keeping everything in. If I put it on before, maybe it will work by keeping everything out.”

  Walking over, she kisses my cheek. “Don’t go to such drastic measures. I have plans for your dick tonight. I’ll just wear pants, and maybe that will keep the big guy in check.”

  She winks at me before moving away.

  “You could wear a garbage bag, and I’d get hard. I already have images of your gorgeous naked body in my head. And they won’t go away.”

  As it is, she prances around the room in a black bra and a matching bottom that covers little. I have to turn away before I toss her onto the bed and fuck the shit out of her again.

  “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  But that isn’t the case. At dinner, we sit and Ben shares with us the first time he met Samantha, his wife. I have to laugh at how they met in the produce department of a grocery store. The two of them trade back and forth effortlessly as they share each of their perspectives. When they talk about Samantha squeezing the fruit, Riley’s hand lands on my lap and it’s too late to stop her from squeezing and getting a rise out of me.

  “How did you meet?” Samantha asks.

  I cough because Riley has a death grip on my dick under the table as she strokes me through my pants.

  “Oh,” Riley says breathlessly and then giggles. “We’ve known each other for a while. Friends of the family. Let’s just say I’ve wanted to get my hands on him since high school.”

  “And why didn’t you?” Samantha questions.

  My hand covers Riley’s, and she smirks playfully at me before letting me go.

  “Well, there was a girl and now that girl is going to marry my brother.” Ben and Samantha look shocked, which is what Riley had been going for. “Anyway, back then my family lived across the country and then we lost touch.”

  Riley glances at me and bites her lip before springing another award-winning smile at me. She has no idea how that one look from her has me inwardly squirming.

  “Sounds complicated,” Ben jibes.

  “Not exactly.” I try to say, but my focus has already fled from the conversation to Riley. I take a second to regroup. “The girl, Gina, now a woman, is a friend and has always been one. Stupidly, as many teenagers do, we made mistakes. We tried to mix becoming more than what we were, and we quickly realized we were better as friends than anything else.”

  “It sounds like everything worked out. I have to say that for me, it wasn’t until I had to work for someone did I truly appreciate the right woman,” Ben says.

  “Agreed.” I think about the woman next to me.

  We wait for dessert, and Riley’s earlier torment will earn her fast and dirty tonight.

  “Well, we should get down to business. At least my accountant will tell me if we don’t talk business at all during dinner, I can’t write it off.”

  Chuckling, I wonder what he has to offer.

  “Dad and I want you here, but you know that.” I nod. He hasn’t been subtle about that from the beginning. “We are prepared to more than double what you were making before.”

  My brows rise.

  “And,” he adds. “You know we want you to come to Charleston for a test run. What we can do is offer you a conditional contract that removes the non-compete clause for a specific period of time. That will allow you to walk away with any clients you bring in if things don’t work out before the trial period ends.”

  He pauses as I think it over. Being able to walk away with my clients and not have a non-compete agreement is tempting. If I don’t have that, I would be unable to work anywhere without moving.

  “It will give you time to see our processes and decide if we are a good fit. I’ll be honest with you. We need you in order to set up a satellite office in Charlotte.”

  Riley’s grin freezes. “How long will you need him in Charleston?” she asks.

  “Just
a few months,” Ben says easily.

  But I hear beyond her question. We don’t talk for a while after dessert and coffee arrive. Later at the hotel, after fast and dirty, we pack our bags to leave in the morning, Riley is subdued, a little too much so. She hadn’t said much on the ride home.

  When she breaks the silence, her question sounds casual. “Are you going to take it?”

  I’d be crazy not to. “It’s a solid offer.”

  “I know this is an amazing opportunity. But have you considered going at it on your own?”

  Nodding, I say, “I have. There are a lot of risks. And working for Rhoades takes that away. I can eventually be independent for the most part without the gamble of going at it alone.”

  “So, you don’t like taking risks?”

  Where is this going? But I know better than to speak too quickly. Women tend to dance around the questions.

  “I take risks,” I say.

  She nods and doesn’t speak for a little longer. And I feel the need to fill in the silence.

  “I’m not opposed to starting my own business. Hell, that’s what Rhoades is bringing me in for. Starting up an office in Charlotte will mean using my ingenuity to get the business off the ground.”

  “Why not do it for yourself and not for someone else? Don’t get me wrong. He seems like a great guy. I enjoyed dinner with both of them tonight. It’s just…”

  I know what she’s about to say.

  “It’s just your job requires you to be independent. Everything rests on your shoulders, win or lose. And it’s a risk, but you take it every day.”

  She tilts her head in agreement.

  “True, it’s doable. But I didn’t grow up with money. What I have, I earned. If I gamble it and lose it all, where will I go? What? Will I have to beg to live with Fletcher or you when I’m homeless?”

  “Don’t you risk it every day when you play with the stock market?”

  She’s right, but I haven’t had to live hand-to-mouth in a long while. I have no desire to go back to that struggle again.

  Her phone chimes. She picks it up and has a conversation with someone on the other end. When she ends the call, I’m taken aback by what she has to say.

  RILEY

  For the first time, I dread the conversation I’m about to have with Mark. Even though he’s supportive of my career, I have this sense of foreboding over what I am about to tell him.

  “What was that call about?” he asks.

  There’s no use in delaying this. Plunging in, it’s as though I’m diving headfirst into an icy pond. “I’ve just been invited to and accepted a spot in the Australian Invitational Christmas LPGA Open. It’s being held in Sydney the second week in December. I would love for you to join me,” I say with my hand on his arm.

  His eyes change from curious to wounded and instantly droop at the corners, and my gut sags right along with them. “Riley, you know that’s impossible. If I take that job Rhoades is offering, there is no way I can go to Australia, or anywhere right now, for that matter.”

  “But—”

  “You heard what he said. I would be in Charleston and then Charlotte, setting up the business. And you have to admit, it’s an offer I can hardly refuse.”

  This isn’t something that should surprise me, and I say as much. “But we can work through this, right? I mean, my job is going to take me away a lot, and I can’t expect you to come with me at the drop of a hat. You have your career, and I have mine, right?” The questions pour out of me, and I’m making it sound so simple, when in fact, it’s not simple at all. The idea of being on the other side of this gigantic world from him scares the shit out of me. Who am I trying to convince more, him or me?

  “Come here.” He grasps my hand and pulls me to the couch, where we both sit. “Yes, we can do this, and yes, we both know this was bound to happen sooner than later. But I’ll be honest with you. I don’t like it one single bit. I want my girl with me every day. And in my bed every night.”

  And don’t I want the same thing? But what am I supposed to do? I can’t only play in tournaments close to home.

  “This is a tournament that I’ve been trying to get in for … well, ever since I made the LPGA. It’s huge and an honor to be invited. They only invite the top players in the world. I couldn’t turn it down.”

  “And I would never ask you to. I only wanted you to know how I feel.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to travel with me?”

  His eyes never waver as he answers, “Honestly, I don’t know. Not for a while, I would assume, if I take the job. But then again, if things go well, who knows?”

  There’s no solution for this dilemma other than to live separately. I imagine other golfers have to live this way and so will I. The worst thing is, we’ve only arrived at the point in our relationship where I’m having seriously deep feelings for him and would rather not leave now. But it could have a huge negative impact on my career if I don’t. Considering all the shit that just went down with Justin at this event, I need to show up with my happy game face on and let the world know that Riley Wilde is at her best.

  “Wow. I never imagined this would be so hard.”

  He runs a hand over his already mussed up hair. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice like sandpaper. “So, how long did you say you were going to be gone?”

  “I didn’t. I’ll have to leave a week before since it’s so far away, which means the week after Thanksgiving. The tournament is the second week in December, which means I won’t finish until a week before Christmas.” And then I get to the other part of the problem. “And I spend every Christmas in California with my parents, so it would make sense for me just to go there afterward.”

  His crestfallen expression brings tears to my eyes.

  “That means we won’t be spending the holidays together then.”

  “No, I suppose we won’t.” But then a thought hits me. I perk up and say, “Unless you want to meet me in California?”

  His hand rubs at his mouth before he answers. “That would be unlikely since I would either still be in Charleston or in the middle of opening the Charlotte office by that time.”

  My heart pinches at his words. He’s made his final choice. “So, you’ve decided then?”

  “No. But think about it, Riley. With you on the road, I need something to do. And I also need an income. This opportunity takes care of both.”

  My conscience tells me to root for him and that this is a fabulous thing. So I do just that. “I think it’s a fantastic option for you, Mark. You should take it, and if you do, I’m hoping you show Rhoades that you are worth every penny and then some. I know you are.”

  “He’ll certainly get his money’s worth.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He lets out a rough laugh. “It’s not like I’m going to have anything else to do.”

  Do I detect a bit of resentment?

  “Are you angry with me?”

  He doesn’t respond immediately, and his eyes don’t meet mine either. When they do, I search their bluish-gray depths. What I find is many things, but anger isn’t any of them. Hurt and disappointment are, though.

  “I would’ve expected a little more warning. That’s all.”

  Taking his hand, I run my finger in a circle over the lines on his palm. “I would’ve given you one, if I had one. It was as big of a surprise for me, too. But you know something? I’m glad this happened, because this will be the first of many. And these situations are things we will always have to deal with. If we can’t handle them, then we need to think about this relationship.”

  “Yes, you’re right. We do.”

  Tied up in knots doesn’t come near to how my stomach feels. It’s more like tied up in barbed wired with a snake twisting through it. And I am probably going to feel this way until I get back to him from this trip.

  “I have a suggestion.”

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “Let’s make the most of the next few
days. We only have that many until my family comes for Thanksgiving and then you’ll probably have to come back to Charleston for your training. That begins our separation, and quite frankly, I don’t want to think about that right now.”

  He doesn’t answer, but rather stands and walks to the sliding glass doors that lead to our little balcony. He opens them and moves through to the outside. It’s a lovely night with the stars sparkling over the ocean and the moonlight lighting a path out to sea. Sliding my arms around him from behind, I expect him to put his hands on me, but he doesn’t. He’s as still as a stone pillar, and I’m not getting good vibes at the moment.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, just trying to work through this in my head. I’m sorry. The numbers guy in me has come out, and I can’t seem to figure out a way around this. And it’s annoying as hell.” He spins around and tilts my chin with a finger. “I don’t want to be away from you that long.”

  “It’s not very high on my list either, Mark, but I don’t see any solution. Neither of us can be in two places at the same time.”

  He puts his forehead against mine and says, “Then we make the best of what we got.”

  I tug on his hand until he follows me into the bedroom where he slowly undresses me. Our usually heated kisses are slow and soft, and he even lays me gently on the bed and gazes at me for the longest time. For the strangest reason, I get the feeling he is committing to memory everything about the night. Every single thing he does is carried out with purpose, carefully and methodically, as if he doesn’t want to miss even the tiniest detail. It’s in the way he kisses my neck, to the way he sucks my nipples, even the manner in which he licks my sex. His dirty talk all but vanishes as silence descends on the room. This is a new Mark, one that scares me to pieces. But I’m too far gone, too close to my release to say anything.

  As my orgasm hits, he pushes inside me, and the dark intensity in his eyes is frightening. It’s as though this is goodbye. And I don’t know why.

  When I feel him pour out his own climax inside me, he asks, “Why are you crying?”

  My fingers touch the rim of my cheek and feel the dampness from my tear. “I didn’t know I was,” I say honestly. “But you’re scaring me, Mark.”