Love Me (Trust Series #2) (23 page)

The story is even more romantic as I sit in the same spot where it happened. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that story.”

I grab my camera from my neck and take a few shots. This landscape is every photographer’s dream, especially with how the light hits the land, giving it dimension and warmth.

I look to my right and see a tree with some sort of carving on it. I start to meander that way, and Damien follows. Upon closer inspection, I see it’s a declaration of his grandparents’ love. Their initials are surrounded by a heart, just like Damien told me a few months ago. The carving is weathered with time, but the deep carving is still there, even after all these years. I reach my hand and trace the letters as his arms go around my waist.

This moment is perfect as he says into my ear, “They loved each other.”

I whisper back, “I can sense how much they did.”

I pull my camera up to my face and take close-up shots of the carving. “She was sixteen, right?”

“Yes. He met her when she was fourteen, but he had to wait to marry her because of her age, and he wanted her to be ready.”

I can tell Damien is lost in the memories of them.

After a few minutes of silence, he says, “She was a short, little spitfire thing. My grandfather adored her.”

I turn in his embrace and put my arms around his neck. “I hope we’re a cute old couple, one of those couples you just want to go up to and hug and squeeze.”

“I hope we’re a horny old couple.” His lips graze mine.

“Damien, is that all you think about?”

We start to slowly kiss each other.

“Around you, yes.”

I want to make love to him out here on the prairie. As I deepen the kiss, conveying what I want, Damien pulls away.

Ah! This is not the time for him to play Mr. Hard To Get.

He answers my mental plea to keep going. “We can’t. Security, baby. I’ll never stop needing you, Alli.”

Damn it, I always forget.
I let out a frustrated groan. “You totally wreck my sense of reality. What I feel for you is like an unquenchable inferno. It’s uncontrollable.”

Our breaths commingle into a heavenly smell of lust as we barely break apart.

“That it is, baby. And when we are done here, we are riding like hell back to the house, so I can make love to you.”

“Then, let’s hurry and eat,” I say.

He chuckles as he goes to get the picnic basket from where it is strapped on Rocket’s saddle.

This moment is perfect.
Grabbing my camera, I take pictures of our picnic, freezing the moment forever. Hearing the click of my camera while seeing the world through the lens brings everything into clear focus, righting my world when it’s upside down.

We are on the plane, heading back to Georgia, and Damien is in a foul mood. He’s not mad at me, of course, but he is furious with his now fired PR lady, Bridget, the uptight, catty bitch.
Miss Clickety-Clack.

Against Damien’s wishes, she gave statements to newspapers to increase exposure for the team. When he confronted her, she told him her comments were supposed to stay anonymous. Basically, due to this lady, our kiss on the field has been named, Kiss of the Year. Yesterday, the paper had pictures of us kissing with an article that said how sweet and in love we are.

Today’s news is a whole different story. One of the papers is lying on the table in front of me. The pictures today don’t hide how enraptured we were in each other with inappropriate slogans. Looking at the photos, it’s hard not to think that the couple is about to strip naked and have hot, crazy sex. The picture honestly has me getting hot and bothered. There’s an inset photo the photographers at the game got after the kiss where we are staring at each other, and the connection screams at anyone who looks at it.

The pictures don’t bother Damien. It’s the text with the pictures that has him absolutely livid. The paper on the table says,
Sources close to Damien Wales say Allison trapped the sports mogul with her expertise in the bedroom.
And the other article I saw on Damien’s tablet said,
Seems sex can subdue the unobtainable bachelor.

He’s on the phone. “What do you mean there’s a fucking site?”

Leaning over, I watch as he types something on his tablet in the address bar. A screen with a cropped picture of just me pops up. My mouth drops open. I look like a horny toad ready for action. The site says to call for a good time.

Shit.

Once he sees it all, Damien starts yelling into the phone. “Fucking hell. Get this fucking site taken down now. I don’t give a rat’s ass. Get it down. Call me when it’s done.” He hangs up the phone.

Mentally, I cringe that this incident on the field has turned into this much attention.

Damien dials another number. “How are the retractions coming? Good. Keep me posted.”

Since the plane with the bed was under maintenance, I have to sit out in the main cabin while he gets everything situated with this nightmare.

His phone rings. “Wales. Mother, now is not the time to start this. I’m married to Allison. Good-bye.” His hand goes to his forehead. His phone rings again. “Wales. It’s about fucking time I got some good news. Thank you, Ben. Glad it’s down.”

He leans his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a long inhale and exhale.

I try to comfort him as I lay my hand on his leg. “It’s going to be okay. It seems like the papers are printing retractions with a nicer story about us.”

He looks at me like I’ve gone completely mad. “It’s not fucking okay, Alli. They’ve painted you out to be a sex goddess for every fucking horny bastard out there. From those pictures, there’s no denying how phenomenal our sex life is. I had no idea our need for each other in that moment would be so apparent in photographs. Damn it all to hell. I never meant for that kiss to happen like it did, but I touched you, and I completely lost myself in the moment. So fu—”

I grab his face, turn him to me, and smash my lips to his to calm him down.

After a few seconds, I pull away. “It happened. We are dealing with it. No one has me but you. This will die down, like everything else. We just need to remember to show love to each other but not get lost in the moment. The only positive thing is that this might drive the lunatic further off the edge. If this is our sacrifice, it’s worth it to be rid of him.”

I don’t know if what I said is helping or not until he starts rubbing his forehead, which is his ultimate sign of stress.

As he pinches the bridge of his nose, he mutters, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I lay my head on his chest and put my legs on his. He immediately responds and brings me to him.

His voice is calmer as he quietly says, “You have no idea how beautiful you are. Now that everyone has seen that look on your face from the photo, the attention you’ll get is going to have me throwing punches at all of those bastards who want you.”

I chortle into his chest at how possessive he is of me. “I’m only yours. Let’s keep the caveman at bay. We’ll keep a low profile for a week or so, and then hopefully, it will die down.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and kisses the top of my head.

We finish the plane ride with me silently comforting him.

Jeremy is driving us home from the airport. The atmosphere is still a tad tense.

Bane rolls down the partition from the front seat, and then he tells Damien, “Mr. Wales, I’ve just been informed that all of the clothing Mrs. Wales said was missing cannot be located.”

Damien responds. “Fucking fantastic. Thanks, Bane.”

Damien starts calling more people in an effort to try and control the media frenzy surrounding our kiss and what an explosive couple we are. After he finishes one phone call, his phone rings. “Wales. Are you fucking serious? No, we are not taking the nomination for Kiss of the Year on that T.V. show. Have Bridget’s replacement handle it.”

Geez, this is out of control.

These phone calls are getting him worked up all over again. For a distraction from all of this, I decide to turn on my phone and check in with Sam. Of course, I have a string of messages from her.

Sam: Good grief, girl. I saw it live, but those pics make it look so much hotter.

And then, I read another one.

Sam: OMG, you have me wanting to kiss you! LOL.

That makes me smile, and I internally laugh. Damien would not find that funny right now. Opening up the next one, I expect something similar, but it’s not.

Blocked Name: WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

There are several more that follow.

Blocked Name: WHAT WAS THAT KISS ABOUT?

Blocked Name: ISN’T GETTING PREGNANT ENOUGH FOR US TO DEAL WITH?

Blocked Name: WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?

Blocked Name: ALLISON, ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!

Blocked Name: IS THIS A GAME TO YOU?

Blocked Name: I’M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND I FORGIVE YOU! I’LL BE COMING TO DEAL WITH YOU SOON, AND WE’LL TAKE CARE OF THAT LITTLE INCONVENIENCE YOU’RE CARRYING.

Dropping my phone, I feel sick as the bile starts to rise in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it’s getting worse as my head starts to get hot. Damien, of course, immediately snaps out of his rant and hangs up with whomever he was griping at.

Before he has the chance to say anything, I yell, “Pullover. NOW!”

The car comes to a halt. Without hesitation, I bolt from the car to the roadside railing and empty everything in my stomach. It feels like an eternity before I sink to my knees, exhausted from dry-heaving. I’m sure I sent security into a near frenzy with how quickly I got out of the car, but it was either that or puke on Damien in the limo. My stomach hurls again, and I lean over the rail and continue to spit up yellow stuff that burns my throat. I can sense everyone in our little convoy standing around me.

Fantastic.

As the retching starts to subside, Damien’s right there, rubbing my back. “Alli, what’s wrong? What happened?”

I can’t answer him right at this moment, so I give a just-one-minute
motion with my finger. The next thing I know, I have a cool compress from the First-Aid Kit on the back of my neck as I work on getting my reaction under control.

I can tell from his text messages that this lunatic is getting more and more desperate. The thought of this guy wanting to do something to hurt a potential child of ours threw me over the edge. He’s capable of so much harm. I knew this before because he killed Rebecca, but those texts bring the fear so much closer to home. When my stomach starts to settle down, I stand up and wipe my face with another wet towel Damien’s handed me.

“Alli, what happened? Are you okay?”

“No, I just want to get back into the car.”

He looks totally lost as he pulls me back in.

He gives Bane an order, “Get us home as soon as possible.”

After grabbing a water from the wet bar, I just lay my head back and try to get everything back in control again.

Why do those text messages scare me so much?

Martin said this guy was smart. He’d have to be to elude Damien all these years. Deep down, I’m so afraid that he’s going to get to me, and there won’t be anything I can do.

The car starts to move again, and Damien has me plastered to him.

“Alli, I’m going out of my mind here. Please—”

I pick up my phone and hand it to him. My esophagus feels like it’s been burned as I softly say, “Look at the last set of text messages written in all caps. I want to change my number.”

He looks at me, worried, and then he starts to read through them. I can feel him tensing more and more as he reads the messages. I know he’s reining in everything he wants to say because of me.

“Done. You’ll have a new number this evening. They are just texts, Alli.”

I lift my head, my irritation flaring. “Just texts? You can’t be serious. He just threatened the life of our potential child. How can you say they’re only texts? You spend all morning carrying on about stupid articles, and you can say these are just texts!”

I know I shouldn’t be yelling at him, but this has me rattled on a whole new level.

“Alli, do you want me to tell you how I really feel?” His voice is calm.

I nod. I need to know if I’m alone with how freaked out I am feeling.