Better With You, page 19
I let Riggs give me a tour of the rest of the condo. Both stories, the other three bedrooms, the terrace and balcony, the home gym and a friggen theater room. We talk strategy as he shows me around, and he tells me little stories about his childhood. Memories of things that happened in each room.
I’m relaxed as we head back down the spiral staircase. I’m feeling light and even, dare I say, happy. I’m smiling to myself as we head through the hallway that leads back to the foyer, and I continue to smile the entire drive back to the hotel.
16
For the second morning in a row, I awake to find Bailey’s soft body plastered against me and my arms wrapped around her. Today, our legs are even tangled together, which makes slipping out that much more difficult.
There’s no doubt in my mind that if she wakes up in my arms, she will be livid, and all the progress we’ve made toward a ceasefire will be firebombed to hell. It won’t matter to her that we’re on my side of the bed, which means she had to have been the one to cross the invisible line dividing the mattress down the middle.
Nope.
She’ll just use it as another reason to spit daggers at me from her eyes.
In between the moments when she’s looking at me like she wants to devour me, that is.
I swear, this infuriating woman has my head spinning in circles. Most of the time, she hates my fucking guts. She won’t listen, she purposely goes against me at every opportunity, and she finds any reason possible to snap at me with that damn sassy mouth. But other times, I can tell she wants me. Craves me. Craves the way I make her feel. Because I do know how to make her feel good, and she can’t deny it. I see the memories burning in her eyes when she thinks I’m not paying attention. But I’m always paying attention, even when I don’t want to be.
Last night messed with my head more than I expected. It was never the plan to let her meet my mom; the situation is just too complicated, and I didn’t want to have to explain Bailey to my family. When I suggested we could use the kitchen at my parents’ condo, I was prepared to feel a little off-kilter, having her in such a personal space. I didn’t even think we’d see my mom, but when she woke up, I suddenly wanted Bailey to meet her. I wanted her to meet Bailey. Having her in the home where I grew up was an intoxicating kind of intimacy, and I craved more of it. When Bailey met my mom, though, I wasn’t prepared to feel so fuckin’ bulldozed. There was something strange about seeing them interacting, getting along, joking. In another life, Bailey and my mom would have been friends. If I had met Bailey sooner, if I hadn’t fucked up so royally, she could maybe even be more, and then they would be more.
I change into a pair of joggers and a hoodie, then grab my bag, which is full of freshly laundered gym clothes, thanks to the hotel guest services. I slip on my shoes and glance back at Bailey one more time. She’s out cold. I don’t know how this girl snuck out on me so many times when she sleeps like the dead herself. The nights that she stayed at my townhouse, she must have never fully relaxed. One eye must have always been open and trained on the door. The only reason she’s sleeping now is because she has no other choice. But before, there was another choice. A better one. And it wasn’t me.
I shake my head.
No wonder it was so easy for her to hate me. She never even let herself like me.
The realization is a line-drive straight to the fucking chest.
I shut the door softly on my way out.
* * *
I send my workout videos to Coach Elbin after my shower, and he gives me a call the minute they go through.
“Sup, Coach?” I say into the phone.
“Stanton. Reps are looking good. How’s your arm feel?”
“Feels good. The tension bands are helping, but I’m ready to throw again.”
He grunts. “You’d be throwin’ plenty if you hadn’t fucked off to the city.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be back on it after the holidays.”
“Neal was asking about you.” His voice is leading. Fuck.
“Yeah? What’s Coach Neal want?”
“Wanted to know what you were up to and why you weren’t at practice.”
Double fuck.
“I got the feelin’ he was askin’ for your dad,” he adds.
I grunt. “What did you tell him?”
“That you had family shit.”
I stay quiet.
“Any reason your dad would be asking after you if you’ve got family shit?”
“He’s outta town until Christmas.” I shrug it off, even though he can’t see me, and I hear him huff on the other line.
“Lies always come back to bite you in the ass,” he states clearly. I don’t respond to that either. He sighs. “Take care of your shit, kid. I’ll keep Neal off your back.”
I let out a relieved breath. As long as I’m keeping up with my training like I’d promised, Elbin will cover for me. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Right. You looked like you had more in the tank yesterday. Do another arm set tomorrow,” he says, referring to the workout videos I sent him yesterday.
“Yes, sir.”
“Talk to you soon, Stanton.” And he hangs up on me.
I walk back into the room to find Bailey in the same position she was yesterday. Banging around in the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth.
“Mornin,” I say, giving her a charming grin. She really is a sight in the morning. Makes my chest warm and ache, all at once.
“Wh’uhn guh?” she mumbles.
“Huh?”
She rolls her eyes and holds up a finger, then hops into the bathroom. I hear the water run, then she comes back a second later without her toothbrush.
“Where did you go? This morning and yesterday, you were gone when I woke up.” She eyes me suspiciously, and my face splits into an amused grin.
“Not used to being the one left, are you, Barnes?”
She rolls her eyes again. “Fine, forget I asked. I don’t care what you do.” She turns her back on me to dip back into the bathroom. Infuriating woman.
“I went to the hotel gym,” I call out, and she pops her head back out of the bathroom, her nose all scrunched up like she smells something rancid.
“Why?”
I walk toward her and lean back on the wall across from the bathroom.
“One of the conditions Coach gave me to allow me to skip out on training to come here.” She hums, and I watch as she brushes out her hair and starts pulling it back into a bun. “I have to do his preapproved workouts and film them every day, then send them to him. Since we never know what time we’ll be done at the convention center, it’s easier to get up at five and do them in the morning.”
She’s lining her eyes with eyeliner, one eye closed and mouth half-open. When she finishes one eye, she looks over at me. “Ew. That’s gross.”
I chuckle. “It’s part of being the best, Bailey. I didn’t get to be the best by sitting on my ass.” I sound like my dad, but it’s true.
She’s moved on to her eyelashes now, and I watch mesmerized as she swipes a brush over both eyes. Her lashes are already thick and full and the blackest of black, but when she puts this stuff on, her amber eyes glow. It’s almost paranormal, how hypnotizing they become. The first time I saw her, even under the fluorescents of the Quick Stop, her eyes grabbed my attention, and I couldn’t let go.
It’s why I followed her into aisle six like a stalker.
Why I listened to the muffled sounds of Fall Out Boy streaming from her earbuds as she mentally deliberated over the items on the shelf.
Why I made the split-second decision to grab for the vanilla just before she did.
It was those damn amber eyes first.
Then the way she strutted when she walked. Like she was fearless.
And then the bored, mysterious, almost haunted look on her face.
I had to know her.
“Well, Golden Boy, let’s hope you bring some of that champion energy into the kitchen today, because we need this W.”
“You talkin’ sports to me, Barnes?”
“Whatever gets through to your dense athlete brain, Stanton.” She tries to hide her smile as she puts on her jacket, but I see it. “Coffee first?”
“Coffee first.”
* * *
The PAs were able to get mawa for us, but Bailey made the executive decision to make our own. She says it will make our final product more impressive, and I don’t disagree. She also chooses to add rose water to the sugar syrup, something she read about and practiced last night, and the end result is phenomenal.
By the time we’ve rolled the Chum Chum in the coconut and stuffed them with our homemade mawa, they look amazing. After we top them with the diced cherries, they look even better. Even as perfectly executed as our recipe is, I still am floored when they name our Chum Chum the winner of the day’s task.
As soon as the cameras are off, our arms are around one another. I don’t even know who initiated it; all I know is this hug is now in my top five hugs of all time.
“Oh my god, we did it.” She smiles up at me, and I can almost see her body shake with excitement. It’s contagious.
“We should celebrate and talk strategy for Friday.”
“Right. Yes. Yes, we should. Just because we won today doesn’t mean we can slack now. Chicago is for Lovers is such a weird theme.”
“I was expecting something more festive. Christmassy. Not so—”
“Romantic?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Sorry, Butch. You’re gonna have to channel your inner lover for this one. Table the bat-swinging caveman mentality.”
“You know damn well I can be a lover, Sundance.” I drop my voice low and keep my attention on her, so I don’t miss the rapidly fluttering pulse in her throat, or the way she tries to swallow down the lust she feels.
“Shut up, Stanton. You know what I mean.”
“Hmm.” Unfortunately, I do. “How about we head back to the hotel and grab something from the rooftop bar. Maybe eating under the stars will help set the mood, so we can come up with some suitable ideas.”
“Sounds good,” she chirps as she slides into the car.
Once I’m buckled in next to her, the driver takes us back to the hotel. We head straight up to the rooftop bar, and even though it’s cold, the retractable glass barriers and the outdoor heaters make it warm enough that we can shed our outer layers.
“This is gorgeous,” Bailey says, and she snaps a photo of the cocktail she ordered. I watch as she types on her phone. “V is gonna flip.” She looks up at me, her eyes dancing. “Too bad we can’t really see stars, but the Christmas lights are a decent second.”
“Yeah, stars aren’t something we get to see much of in the city. Too much light pollution.” I look up at the night sky. “Some of them break through, though.”
“The brightest, most determined ones,” she says, her voice almost reverent.
She’s beautiful. The soft shine of the Christmas lights, the glow from the heaters, they all seem to hit her just right, illuminating her in a way that makes it impossible to look away. Brighter and more vibrant than everyone else out here. I’m staring, I know I am, and when she catches me, her eyes flit away quickly, and she fidgets with her scarf.
“So, Chicago is for Lovers,” she says into her cocktail glass before she takes a sip. “We could play up the things about Chicago that people tend to love. Sports. Pizza. Stuff like that. But I kind of want to take a more elegant, romantic approach.”
“Okay.”
“I feel like we can do some fun stuff with silvers and golds, maybe a little pink and white. Maybe something with champagne. Something sparkly. Not really kitschy like Valentine’s Day, boyfriend/girlfriend Hallmark stuff. More like engagement proposals or weddings. Baby showers. Timeless love.”
“I like it. We could probably do something with cheesecake since that was part of our cookie recipe.”
“Oh, yeah, maybe.” She pulls a pen and a small notebook out of her bag, then starts writing notes. “How are you at decorating cake?”
“I’m actually pretty good,” I say, after taking a sip of my own drink. “I can do basic stuff like roses and cursive script. And I can manipulate fondant pretty good, too.”
“Nice. I’ve never messed with fondant, but the rest I’m pretty good at.”
A server comes and takes our food orders, and I tell him to charge it to our room before Bailey can argue. She tries anyway, once the server leaves, but I shut her up by telling her she can pay me back after we win.
We eat and talk, some brainstorming, some natural conversation. She tells me about her friends. How two of them recently got together after years of mutual pining. How she and Slipper Dick teamed up to make it happen. I tell her about baseball and my team, some stories about growing up in the city. It’s nice, and when it starts to snow, it’s perfect.
“Oh wow,” she whispers. “It’s so pretty.” I watch her put out her hand and catch a snowflake on her finger. It starts with light, delicate flakes, but within minutes, the snow comes down in clumps, clinging to our hair and clothes. We grab our stuff and wait in line for the elevators, and without thinking, I reach out and brush some snow out of Bailey’s hair, then push a strand behind her ear. She shivers.
“Your fingers are cold,” she whispers. I smile in response.
We ride to the room in comfortable silence.
“I’m going to take a quick shower to warm up,” she says, after discarding her jacket and kicking off her boots.
“Sure.” I don’t look at her as I take off my own coat. She grabs something from her bag, then darts into the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on a minute later.
While she’s in there, I grab some paper and keep myself busy. The door opens fifteen minutes later, steam billowing out behind her. She’s wearing shorts and an oversized Brand New concert tour shirt, her hair twisted up in a fluffy white towel. Her face is scrubbed clean, her cheeks tinged with pink, and something about her makes me want to swallow my tongue.
She’s so fucking pretty.
“It’s all yours,” she says, and I blink. What? “The shower, I mean.”
Oh right.
“Right,” I say, and move to the bathroom just to do something other than sit on my ass and ogle her. “I’ll be right out.”
The moment I cross the threshold, I’m knocked on my ass by her smell. Vanilla and fruity, and permeating the air with the steam, and I’m immediately hard. I strip and get in the shower, and it takes all of ten seconds before I crank the knob to cold.
This girl is fucking with my body and my head, and I need to get my shit under control. The best way to undo all the progress we’ve made is to walk out there with a massive boner. I snort out a laugh at the thought. I can only imagine how Bailey would react. She’d probably threaten to cut my dick off. Ha. She might even try to do it.
I finish soaping up, wait until my dick is fully deflated, then turn off the water and climb out. I pull a fresh towel from the shelf, dry off my body, then drop it and reach for my clothes.
The clothes I didn’t bring into the bathroom.
Shit.
She’s going to kill me.
I dry off my hair as best as I can, then wrap the towel around my waist. Have these towels always been this small? I check the rack to make sure I didn’t grab one of those small floor mat towels instead of a body towel. Hm. I check myself in the mirror one more time. Everything is covered, so maybe this towel isn’t that small? I just feel naked, is all.
Christ.
Okay.
With any luck, she’ll be asleep, and this won’t make things awkward.
I swing the door open quietly and step lightly into the main room, eyes trained on my suitcase, when Bailey turns from where she’s standing by the bed. We lock eyes, and for a second, we just stare at each other.
“Sorry,” I rasp. “I, uh, forgot my clothes. I’m just gonna—”
My words halt when I notice Bailey’s eyes trailing down my torso. I can feel them on my chest, and I flex my pecks on instinct. I watch her face as her gaze falls lower, and I know the instant they land on my dick. Her breaths quicken, she bites her lip, and I immediately sport a semi. I know she can tell, because her eyes widen, and I get even harder. When the head of my dick brushes on the fabric of the towel, I groan, and she gasps.
“Sundance,” I grind out, “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna have to do something about it.”
“Like what,” she asks, eyes still on the growing bulge under my towel.
“Like throw you on the bed and make you come on my cock.”
Her eyes shoot to mine and she whimpers, then she slowly starts to walk toward me.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she whispers.
“Nothing.”
“It’s just sex,” she says as she gets closer.
“Got it.”
“I still hate you.”
“You hate everyone.”
“I hate you most.”
“Fine,” I growl and grab her hips, pulling her into my erection. “Then fuck me like you hate me.”
I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me at the same time our mouths connect. God, the fucking mouth on this girl. She bites my lip and grinds herself on me, and I squeeze her ass.
“Fuck, wait,” she gasps out, then pulls back sharply. “Tell me the truth. Are you with Talia? And I don’t just mean she’s not your girlfriend. I mean, are you fucking her, are you together? I am not trying to break girl code and be a soap opera plot line.”
“I’m not with her. I’m not dating her. I’m not fucking her.” I meet Bailey’s eyes and say it again clearly. “I am not with Talia or anyone else.”
“Okay,” she says, then attacks my mouth once more. I drag my teeth down her jaw and over her earlobe, then suck on the soft flesh of her neck.
“I’m gonna make you pay for taking this pussy away from me,” I say against her shoulder before I bite her.
“Shut up,” she says, then she pulls hard on my hair, forcing my head up, licking up the column of my throat. When I groan, she reaches between us and grips my dick, giving two firm tugs before I literally toss her tiny ass onto the bed. She pops up quickly and whips off her shirt the same time that I drop my towel. I’m on her in a breath, pushing her onto her back and sucking a nipple into my mouth.
