Page 36 of Wild Pitch

“Riggs!” I whisper-yell, slapping at his shoulder.

“Love it when you say my name,” he replies into the skin of my neck, still attempting to devour me. “But why don’t you shut the fuck up so I can make you come before the elevator stops?” He reaches his hand between my legs from behind, making my face flame with embarrassment as I finally rip my eyes away from our one-man audience and focus on getting this asshole back on the same planet as us.

“Weare stopped,” I say loudly, finally making him unlatch from me as he turns to see the guy, who now has his hand in the door to prevent it from closing.

“Oh, shit,” Riggs says, clearing his throat and not-so-subtly adjusting his massive erection before turning around. “Sorry, Tim. Got a little carried away there.”

“Not a problem, Val,” he replies, pretending like he didn’t just witness amateur porn in the middle of this very classy building. “I actually just delivered some boxes outside your door. They’re large and fairly heavy, so feelfree to leave the cart in the hallway when you’re finished, and I’ll swing back by to pick it up.”

I hide behind Riggs as he steps forward, fishing his wallet from his pocket before plucking out a hundred-dollar bill—hush money, probably—and handing it to the porter. We exit quickly, waiting for the doors of the elevator to close, signaling to us that we’re alone before he turns to me likeIdid something wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was there?” he says in an accusing tone.

My eyes go wide, and my jaw drops in surprise. “I did!” I yell. “Several times! Maybe if you weren’t such a feral beast, you’d have heard me!”

He smirks. “I’ve got your feral beast right here, baby,” he says, palming his dick and squeezing. I want to scoff and tell him how disgusting he is, but as I watch the veins in his hand when he flexes it, my throat goes dry. I imagine those same salient ridges running along my center, eliciting the kind of teasing pleasure that only he can give.

I shake my head rapidly, attempting to eradicate the dirty thought before he notices, but I’m already busted. I meet his eyes to see a cocky expression, his tongue pushed into his cheek as though he’s stifling an arrogant response.

“My dirty little slut,” he mumbles, making me roll my eyes sarcastically as we approach the door. Sure enough, there are several large shipping boxes stacked onto a rolling cart, all labeled with Riggs’ name and address. He opens the door, ushering me in before reaching back out to wheel it inside.

“What is all this?” I ask, even though it isn’t really my business. He gets deliveries all the time, but I’m intrigued by the size of these.

He pulls the cart into the living room, unloading the boxes one by one onto the sofa. “It’s your new recording equipment,” he replies.

I tilt my head, brows pulling tightly in confusion. “Mywhat?”

He disappears into the hallway with the empty luggage rack before coming back inside and closing the door behind him. Returning to the room, he begins unpacking everything like I’m not standing there completely perplexed and awaiting an explanation.

“Riggs,” I repeat, attempting to recapture his attention. “What do you mean it’s my new recording equipment?”

He pulls a large tripod out of the first box, reaching back in to grab a massive softbox. I’ve seen these on commercial sets when I worked at the marketing firm in California, but I’ve certainly never considered using one. “You said you wanted to film how-to videos for your website. I did some research and found out what kind of setup you’d need to make them look professional, and I ordered it on my way home from Philly.”

I stand there, dumbfounded as he opens another, smaller box and pulls out a top-of-the-line DSLR camera kit. I go to speak but stop because I honestly don’t know what to say. My heart squeezes in my chest as he sets up the tripod and screws the heavy device onto the plate, making sure it’s secure enough before letting go.

“I was just planning on using my phone to record them,” I say quietly. “We don’t even know if this thing is going to take off, and you’re out here blowing all kinds of money.” I plop down onto the couch, anxiety creeping up and tightening my throat. He must’ve spent ten thousanddollars on this stuff alone. What if I end up failing him the same way I failed Claire and the boutique?

My eyes fill with tears as I stare blankly at the wall of windows that overlooks the beach. Riggs notices the change in my demeanor, abandoning his task and rushing over to kneel in front of me.

“Hey,” he says softly, turning my chin with his finger so I’m looking at him. The sincerity in his eyes opens the floodgates, and tears begin streaming down my cheeks. Using his thumbs, he wipes them away. “You are the smartest, most determined woman I’ve ever met. You love what you do, and that shows in the way that you care for your clients. I have absolutely no doubt that you’re going to crush the shit out of whatever you end up creating. Even if we didn’t have this arrangement going on, I’d still be the first in line to invest in your business. I believe in you, Monroe. Anyone who doesn’t is out of their mind.”

I look into his eyes, and I can feel the wall around my heart shudder as it crumbles into a heap of rubble, leaving me completely open and vulnerable to him. When I got here, I wasn’t even expecting us to be able to form a friendship. At the time, that was the furthest thing from what I wanted. I was just praying that I’d be able to tolerate him long enough to fulfill my duties as his fake girlfriend and move on with my life as quickly as possible. But all of that has changed.

I’m falling for him. I’ve known it for a while. I’ve tried my hardest to ignore the feelings, but they refuse to go away. The effects of the life I ran from still plague me when it comes to relationships, and although it’ll take time for me to work on those, he makes me want to try.

“You’re so much different than I thought you were,” I whisper, giving him a grateful smile.

“So are you,” he replies, leaning in and pressing his forehead against mine. Memories from that day at the boutique after our night together flood my mind, and suddenly, I feel awful about the way I treated him.

“Riggs,” I choke out, more tears escaping my eyes and falling down my face. “I’m so sorry for all the time we lost.”

He wipes them away again, shaking his head rapidly. “No,” he says firmly. “I had just as much of a part in that as you did. I knew I wanted more with you before I even got you back to my room. So when you left, then acted like it was nothing more than a night of fun, I lashed out at you. You were completely honest with me. You told me that was all you wanted, and I agreed. I had no right to degrade you the next morning. I don’t blame you for hating me for that.”

“I never hated you,” I reply. “I hated that I still wanted you after I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

He closes his eyes and his shoulders sag in relief. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that. I told myself I could move on from what we shared, but as soon as I got you here, I knew that I’d never be able to. Can we stop fighting this now?Please?”

I nod before leaning forward and pressing my mouth to his in a gentle kiss. His hand comes up, cupping my cheek, and when his tongue slides along my lower lip, I open for him. This is unlike anything else we’ve ever shared. This isn’t about sex or making our bodies feel good. It’s about finally opening our hearts to the things we’ve been denying ourselves for too long.

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