19. Shelby #2
I throw my hands on my hips and turn around, only to see Beau with a shit-eating grin on his face as he leans against one of the dressers in his hotel room.
Why did he feel the need to dress like a slut when he knows what’s about to happen?
His abs on full display, paired with low-hanging gray sweatpants… it’s icing on my shame cake.
“You’re the worst.”
“Am I though?” He pushes off the dresser and walks toward me. “Would you be here if I was actually the worst?”
I take in a deep breath, because it’s the only way I won’t strangle him. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“This is only to prove you wrong.”
His fingers start working the bottom of my shirt, pulling it out from the pants I wore to golf today before lifting it over my head. “And you love proving me wrong.”
“It’s one of my favorite things.”
I quit breathing as I watch Beau expertly unzip the front closure of my sports bra, slowly and methodically, before pushing it off my shoulders. “Do you have any more favorite things?”
He did this last night—his stupid words and stupid fingers putting me under a spell where, before I knew it, I wasn’t in control. That’s not who I am, in or out of the bedroom. I don’t like the feeling. Except when I did. Then I was liking it too much.
That’s not going to happen tonight. This is on my terms. I’m running the show. And it’s starting right now.
“I do,” I say, walking right up to him, my hand cupping his already hard cock through the material of his pants. “Now, I said pants off, Devereaux. It’s time for me to prove you wrong.”
I didn’t prove him wrong.
The asshole went out and shot so well we’re in second place headed into the final round.
God damn it. Now I’m going to have to fuck him again.
“Honestly? I didn’t know I could fade a shot like that,” Beau says, all smiles as he holds court in the media room after his near record-breaking round. “But you know, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it. And apparently today, I had a lot of it.”
Shit. That’s what he’s got. A whole lot of shit…
Except he doesn’t. I’d be the pettiest version of myself if I tried to convince myself that Beau didn’t have the round of his life, and because of that, we’re in contention going into tomorrow.
Ethan’s ecstatic. Beau’s parents actually squealed when he came off the course today, hugging him like I watched them do so many times when we were growing up and he played a good round.
And now I’m here, standing against the wall of the media room, watching as Beau charms the gaggle of reporters.
Well, almost all of them.
“Beau, is there a reason Shelby came out to watch you today, but you didn’t yesterday?”
I shoot a look to my ex, and it takes every single power in me not to just yell out “what the fuck?” Because…what the fuck? Why does he keep asking questions about where I am, or where Beau was? It makes no sense.
“Shelby came out today because she’s a better partner than I am,” he says, sending me a wink for good measure.
That gets a few giggles from the interns standing off to the side.
“But as for me yesterday, I needed a day to regroup. I wasn’t proud of my actions on Thursday, and I thought it would be best for my game, the tournament, and for Shelby, if I stayed away.
But if you’re really worried about my whereabouts, Michael, I’ll share my location with you next time.
I hear people become good detectives when others forget to turn their location off. ”
My eyes go wide at the subtle dig. And I’m not going to lie, my panties get a little wet.
“Any more questions? Nope? Thanks everyone! See y’all tomorrow! It’s going to be a fun one!”
Beau stands up from the table at the press conference, making sure to send me a smile that most women would call panty-melting.
I call it mildly hot and a lot annoying.
Beau gives me a slight head nod, signaling for me to follow him through the back door. I follow, but not because he asked, because I was going out there anyway. I’m one step out of the door when I feel a hand grabbing my arm. Hard.
“You told him?”
I turn my head to see a livid Michael. “Get off of me!”
I try to rip my arm from his hold, but he doesn’t let go. Seething at his audacity, I’m about to scream so loud I’ll give every other reporter the story of their lives.
“She said hands off, Stevens. Now.”
Beau pushes Michael away, and thank God we’re in an area that’s off limits to spectators. That would be all we need—cell phone footage of Beau looking like he’s going to murder Michael.
“What? Are you going to punch me like you did Ashcroft?”
Beau’s breathing has picked up, long gone the easy-going guy who was just in the media room. I watch as his arm cocks back, but I’m quickly able to grab a hold of him.
“Don’t.” I move between them and look directly at Beau. “He’s not worth it.”
Beau doesn’t stop looking at Michael, but does back away.
“Oh, I see what this is. You two are fucking,” Michael snarls. “Gee, Shelby. You never beat my ass then sucked my dick. That would’ve been quite the girlfriend treatment.”