Page 70 of Trouble in Love
“She was. It was her birthday last week, and now she isn’t. I’m officially the parent to a teenage girl, which means my tolerance for you dickhead’s and your bullshit has rapidly declined.” He pointed back and forth between us. “You two will be on your best behavior. If me and my ex-wife can kiss and make up, you two can.”
“Aww, shucks, Coach. You know I’m an equal opportunity lover, but Brookes isn’t my type.” The smattering of laughs became a wave of catcalls and kissy-face noises. Joking about my sexuality around the team, being open and unafraid was great.What felt even better was realizing the desire to rip Dallas’s heart through his mouth and slice it to pieces with my skates was absent. Even as we took our poorly assigned seats beside the other at the team meeting, the inferno my rage had once stoked had cooled to the temperature of a lukewarm, tepid bath. I didn’t care that Clara was at home waiting for him because the one thing I wanted the most in the world was lying in a hotel bed, hopefully naked and hungry for me. To ensure this was the case, the second I got back to the locker room, I snatched my phone from my bag.
Me: Babe, I’ll be home in twenty. When I walk in those doors I want you in bed, on your stomach, naked.
Polly
I’d never been the type of girl to dream of a big white wedding. Never contemplated the style of my dress, or how I would wear my hair. The wedding night, sure, maybethathad crossed my mind a time or three. But the non-naked parts of the day? Not so much. Still, being left to celebrate alone sucked, marriage of convenience or not.And that’s all this is, I reminded myself. All that it was.Convenience.I was Luca’s wife to heal his reputation. He was my husband to give me my freedom. A temporary distraction.
“Don’t blur the lines, Polly.” I schooled myself again and again while padding through our suite that was like something from a movie. Views of the strip. A private butler. An empty bed the size of my apartment.Fuck.I flopped onto the plush mattress, letting the mass of silk or satin pillows I could never tell the difference between, bury my face and soak up my tears. I was surrounded by life’s true luxuries. Painfully bored. And lonely.
Maybe a bit homesick, too. Though criticism and rejection were a much more likely outcome of a call home, I desperately wanted to hear joy and pride in Mum’s voice when she learned of my marriage. Needing that felt kind of pathetic, especially after she’d said such atrocious things. But ultimately, I was a child craving her mother’s approval, and didn’t know how not to be.
For anything to heal between us, I would need to make the first move. A phone call would have been best, but after chewing my nails to the quick, I settled on a practice run with Holly.
“Now, while I’d never want to dismiss your pain, I do want to say this. Screw what Mum thinks, I can’t believe you got married without your sister!” Laughter bubbled free. I should have called her hours ago. “You’re the wife of a professional athlete who’s hung like a horse. Stop sooking, get off your ass and show me the ring … and the room … ooohhhh, and any naked pics he may have sent you.”
Once I’d talked Holly out of ditching her family and flying to Vegas, but before she could request more nudes of my husband, I hung up and refocused on mum. Holly had agreed a short and sharp text message was the way to go.
But what to say?
Hi Mum. Guess what? I, your wild daughter, Polly Hart, the girl you said no one would want, the poisoned apple so many had tasted and spat back out, got married.
Hmm. Perhaps slightly less sarcastic.As I lay on my stomach, neck cramping, fingers twitching, willing the perfect words to magically type themselves, my damn phone buzzed in my hand, causing me to jump in fright and roll off the bed.
Had Holly given mum my number? Begged her to contact me?
With trembling hands, I sat and stared at the back of the phone, ten minutes passing before I was able to look. “Just look at the damn thing.” I scolded, “you can do this, Polly.”
Cowboy: Babe, I’m on my way home. When I walk in those doors I want you in bed, on your stomach, naked.
Oh, you can definitely do this.
As requested, when Luca walked through those doors, his body still drenched in sweat from what must have been a punishing session, I was on our bed, on my stomach, naked …well, almost naked. A black, faux leather chemise and crotchless panties were as close as I could allow myself to go.
Dropping his bag to the floor the moment he stepped inside, he approached slowly, his blue eyes taking me in, his thumb brushing along his plump bottom lip. “That fucking ass is swallowing that pretty lace, Princess. But as glorious as your lingerie looks, it won’t do. My face is the only thing I wanted sliding between those cheeks.”
Ignoring the maddening ache between my legs, I replied without looking up from my phone. “What are you going to do about it?”
“What am I going to do about it?” he growled, kicking off his shoes one at a time. “I’m going to take a shower, then come back here and punish you.”
I wanted to beg him to do just that, to punish, spank and praise me. But fighting back was half the fun. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Want to make a bet?” Luca held my gaze as he stripped till all her wore was a layer of sweat and a filthy, dimpled smirk. “I mean it, Polly.” He scowled over his shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom. Naked.”
Was I face down on the bed like he commanded. Yes
Wetter than I’d ever been. Yes.
Naked? No.
Was he mad? Well, when he exited the bathroom and found me perched on the desk overlooking the strip, legs spread as wide as my smile, he did growl. And cuss. And shake his head in disapproval, but the way his chest heaved, his lips parted for his tongue to wet his lips, authoritarianism was a hard sell.
“I said to be on the bed, Polly. You need to remember who’s in charge here.” he grumbled, his voice so gravely, so deep it reverberated through my bones. “Here’s a hint, Princess. It ain’t you. “
Trying valiantly to regain the upper hand he dropped the low-slung towel from his waist and stalked towards me. Stomach muscles I ached to trace with my tongue rippled as I eyed every inch of his body, drinking in the hard lines, smooth skin. But it was the beautifully hard cock that slapped against his stomach on each step that left me throbbing and speechless.
“I decided the desk was more comfortable. Has a better view, too.”
