19. Shelby #3
I’m about ready to swing on him, when Beau stops me. “If I can’t, neither can you, Belle.”
Michael just laughs at our interaction. “I should’ve known. Leave me. Go to Ashcroft. And now to this guy. Who knew Shelby LeBlanc got around so much?”
That does it. I don’t care if anyone is looking. He can’t say that shit and get away with it. Which is why I take the three steps I need to reach Michael, bring up my knee, and drive it right into his dick, making him collapse to the ground.
“About time I made you cry,” I say, leaning down.
“You are a tiny man, Michael Stevens. A tiny man with a small dick who didn’t deserve my love and damn well doesn’t deserve a wife and a family.
Though, I did hear she left you. Which is good.
I’m glad. Because you don’t deserve nice things.
You deserve to watch as your ex and your kids thrive without you.
You deserve to watch me conquer the world you have to cover, knowing that I’m better off without you.
But most of all? You don’t deserve to be called a man.
Because you aren’t. You’re a fucking cheater.
And every bad thing that happens to you isn’t bad enough. ”
I stand up, leaving Michael still on the ground, holding his four-inch-when-hard dick like I just cut off his arm. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins when I feel Beau take my hand, dragging me away from the scene of the crime.
“What is it?”
“Just follow me.”
Beau doesn’t say anything else as he weaves around players, caddies, and eventually, other fans, as we head to the men’s locker room.
“Beau. What—”
Beau slams the door shut, using the deadbolt to lock it behind him. I don’t even have a second to double check that we’re alone in here before Beau’s mouth is crashing to mine, kissing me harder than I’ve ever been kissed in my life.
“I know you like to say I play the hero, Belle, but watching you do that?” he says, kissing me anywhere he can find in between his words. “That was hot as fuck.”
Warmth runs through me that has nothing to do with his mouth sucking at my neck. “How hot?”
He presses me into the door, his hard dick saying everything it needs to. “Turn around and let me show you.”
“Wake up, Belle.”
I squirm in bed, needing a second to realize that, yet again, I’ve fallen asleep in Beau’s arms.
I really need to quit doing that.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Eight,” he says lazily, kissing my bare shoulder. “But I figured you wanted breakfast so you have plenty of time to get to the course and warm up.”
How dare Beau sweettalk me this early in the morning while I’m naked.
I stretch my deliciously sore body in bed, but when I open my eyes, I notice that Beau is just staring at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Clearly it’s something, because you’re staring at me like a creeper.”
“No creeper,” he says, leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Just taking it all in.”
What he doesn’t say is the unspoken conversation Beau and I have yet to have, but I hope he’s thinking as well—that this is the last time.
This is a Vegas thing. When we get back to Nashville, things are going to go back to normal.
I’m going to hate him. He’s going to dislike me.
We’re going to call each other names, be annoying neighbors, and we’re absolutely not going to sleep with each other again.
“This has been an interesting weekend, hasn’t it?”
He laughs, and I don’t swat his hand away as his fingers lazily trace circles across my chest. “One for the books.”
My eyes flutter shut as he leans in, gently kissing me in a way he hasn’t this weekend. Every one of our kisses have been hard. Urgent. Horny. They’ve been in the throws of passion and a necessary step in the release we both wanted.
Then there’s this one. It’s sweet and tender. Our mouths are moving lazily against each other, like we don’t have to get our day moving. Like we aren’t doing this in secret. Like we didn’t try and kill each other three days ago.
It just feels…good. Strangely right. More.
A lot more.
Too much.
And fucking scary.
“Stop,” I say, which has him freezing immediately.
“What? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m…I’m fine,” I stutter. “It’s just…we don’t kiss.”
I watch as he relaxes, his eyes softening, and I hate that he knows what I’m doing. And damn him for learning too quickly how to bust down every wall I’m trying to put up.
“I think we do,” he says, placing one more on my shoulder. “We’ve kissed a lot these last few days. In fact, you started it.”
Damnit. He’s right. “But not like this. Not all lovey dovey.”
He rolls his eyes at me, but doesn’t argue back. “Fine. I won’t kiss you again. But you have to make me a promise.”
I let out a sigh. Though I don’t know if it’s of relief or exasperation. “What’s that?”
“That when we win, you remember that, and don’t kiss me.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I think I’ll be able to contain myself.”
“You’ve said that before, Belle, and we’ve seen how that’s gone.” He pops out of bed, but not before sneaking one more peck on the lips. “Now get up. Hop in the shower. We’ve got a comeback to complete.”