Stealing Home by Tara Wyatt

Eighteen

Maggie would’ve thought she’d be used to heat, having grown up in Texas, but the heat in Miami was a whole new level thanks to the humidity that never seemed to let up. Thank goodness the Marlins played in an enclosed, air-conditioned stadium; otherwise Maggie wasn’t sure she’d survive the entirety of the game unfolding in front of her. From her spot in the player’s family section, she searched out Dylan on the field and found him in his brightly colored American League All-Star uniform, chatting with a player wearing an equally brightly colored National League uniform.

Miami was hosting this season’s All-Star game, and Dylan was the lone Longhorn to make the roster. Technically, Hunter would’ve qualified too with the number of votes he’d received, but he hadn’t been allowed to play. Both Dylan and Hunter had been suspended for five games each following the brawl in Denver, but because Hunter had already gotten in trouble earlier that season, Javi had extended his suspension to ten games. Maggie had felt bad for Hunter, especially because the first incident hadn’t even been his fault, and the second time he’d merely been backing Dylan up. Trouble seemed to find him wherever he went. She hoped that whatever was eating at him, he’d find some peace, and soon. Granted, last she’d heard was that he was hella pissed about the suspension and had taken off for Vegas for the All-Star break, so she didn’t like the odds of Hunter staying out of trouble.

Whatever. She didn’t work for the Longhorns anymore, so Hunter and his antics weren’t her problem. Instead, she’d be focused on her brand new job once she and Dylan got back to Dallas later this week. The day she’d gotten back together with Dylan had been a lucky one apparently, because she’d gotten the job she’d interviewed for that morning. Starting the following Monday, she’d be working with Cancer Cooperative of Texas out of Fort Worth as their brand new marketing, communications, and fundraising manager. She’d loved working for the Longhorns, but in this new role, she’d be able to make a difference to people dealing with a cancer diagnosis. The organization offered support for cancer patients, caregivers, and survivors by connecting them with helpful resources—social workers, therapists, financial aid for medical expenses, nutritional counseling, and more. She knew first-hand how cancer could upend and rip apart someone’s life, and it felt…special, healing in a way, to be able to help people walking the same path she’d walked with Mama. It felt like more of a calling than working for the Longhorns ever had.

And as for her and Dylan…well, they’d been in honeymoon mode ever since she’d forgiven him. They’d practically been Velcroed together—usually naked—and Maggie had zero complaints about that. Dylan wasn’t perfect, but he’d owned up to his mistakes, and he’d learned from them. He’d grown and was trying to be a better man, and she couldn’t fault him for that. She felt like maybe she’d grown too. When she’d first heard that he was coming to Dallas, she’d been so determined to prove that he didn’t mean anything to her, but fighting against her emotions and what she truly felt was downright exhausting. She wasn’t going to live like that anymore. She was done with grudges and games and denying her heart.

The All-Star game progressed at a leisurely pace, the players joking with each other and having fun while showing off their skills. Dylan got his chance in the third inning when the batter sent a ball flying in his direction and he leaped against the wall, his glove extended. He hit the wall with a hard thud, the ball smacking into the leather, and the crowd exploded in a mix of cheers and groans.

In all honesty, she’d been a little anxious about coming with him to the All-Star game, worried she’d feel like she was disappearing into his shadow as she sat in the stands with the other wives and girlfriends, wearing his name on her Longhorns jersey, but it didn’t feel like that. Her presence, knowing what it meant to him, felt important. Because Dylan wasn’t the center, and neither was she. They, together, were the center, a single unit no matter what. It was a heady feeling accepting that, but one that made her feel so incredibly loved and adored. Cherished and safe. Plus, the other women were all so welcoming and friendly that it felt like she was the newest member of some kind of elite, secret club.

Despite her fears, Maggie was having fun. Because of Dylan. Because she’d let herself love him and hadn’t let fear win.

The American League won, 7-5, and Maggie waited for Dylan in the designated area after the game. Thankfully, the players had done all of their media and fan stuff in the days leading up to the game, so once the game was over, they were free from any obligation and Maggie could have him all to herself. She smiled when she saw him emerge from the clubhouse, his hair still damp from his shower, wearing a simple blue T-shirt and jeans. Wiggling her fingers in a wave, she let out a little giggle when he wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her, pressing his lips to hers.

“Nice job out there, champ,” she said, dropping her hand to his ass and giving the firm muscle there a light smack. His eyes darkened at that in a way that promised so many good things and heat unfurled inside her, starting up a tiny throb right between her legs.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He set her down and wove his fingers through hers, leading her to the area where Ubers were waiting to take the players back to their hotels.

Maggie arched a brow, feeling a little drunk even though she’d only had a diet Coke during the game. She was drunk on him. On them. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“You’ll see.” He led her to one of the cars, but instead of telling the driver to take them to the Hyatt where they’d been staying, he instead told the driver to take them to the Ritz-Carlton. He leaned over and tucked her against his side as much as their seat belts would allow. “I got us a suite overlooking Biscayne Bay for the next two nights.”

“Mmm. Sounds romantic.”

He nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply. “That’s the idea.”

She laid a hand on his muscled thigh, and she could feel the tension, the need, the barely controlled lust all coiled there, and she skated her hand higher, deliberately teasing him, wanting him to unleash all of it on her. Lifting her head, she brushed her lips over his, soft and gentle, excitement bursting inside her at the little growl rumbling in his throat. She loved knowing that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

When they arrived at the hotel, Dylan checked them in and retrieved their bags, which he’d had sent over from the Hyatt, and they made their way up to their suite. Maggie let out a soft little gasp when he pushed open the door. A large living room stretched out before them with a plush, cream-colored sofa sitting on a gorgeously ornate blue and white rug. A glass-topped coffee table was placed in front of it, a vase of roses right in the center. Along the far left wall and the wall directly in front of her, there were nothing but windows, covered only with expensive-looking sheers so as to make the most of the waterfront view. A table and chairs were nestled together at the far end of the living room, and to the right was an open set of double doors that led to the bedroom. She gave Dylan’s hand a tug as she led him there, anticipation humming through her and heating her blood. A massive king-size bed sat in the center of the room, and she guided Dylan to it, urging him to sit down with her hands on his shoulders. Without a word, she stood before him and slowly began undoing the buttons on her jersey, stopping when she’d undone enough to reveal her breasts. Then she undid her jeans and shimmied out of them, kicking off her socks and converse sneakers as she went. Her eyes on his, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, leaving her naked save for his jersey. A sexy grin turned up the corner of his mouth and he crooked a finger at her.

“Come here,” he said, moving back on the bed until he was propped against the headboard. It was reminiscent of their first night together, and yet it felt so completely different this time around. He pulled his T-shirt off over his head and opened his jeans, stroking himself through his boxer briefs. Her mouth watered, her stomach swirling with need, and she climbed onto his lap, working herself against him, loving the tease of the fabric separating them. His mouth found hers and he claimed her in a hard, hungry kiss, a searing brand of his lips on hers that she’d never get enough of. She started to unbutton the rest of the jersey, but his hands landed on hers, stilling her movements. “Leave it on. It’s hot seeing my name on you.”

She melted into nothing but nerves and want and lust and happiness at that, her entire body singing, vibrating with it. With this big, messy, amazing emotion he made her feel.

His hands found her breasts, and he tormented her nipples, pinching and plucking just the way she liked until she was writhing against him, slick heat gathering between her thighs. “Put me inside you, Mags. Take me home.” She reached into his boxer briefs and pulled his cock out, stroking him once before lowering herself onto him. With her forehead pressed to his, she worked herself all the way down, taking him in, inch by inch, welcoming the burning stretch that always happened when he first pushed into her. His hands fell to her hips, and he guided her movements, a slow grind of her pelvis against his that worked her clit against him with deliciously hot friction.

“I like seeing your name on me, too,” she admitted breathlessly, clinging to him as everything inside her started to wind tighter and tighter, the slide of his cock against her hungry nerves stoking the fire at her core.

“Maybe we should talk about making that a permanent arrangement someday.” He pumped up into her, hitting a spot deep inside her that had her crying out. She waited for the fear, for the instinct to run to hit, but it didn’t happen. All she felt was the open happiness of possibility, and she swiveled her hips against him.

“Maybe we should.”

Her words seemed to send him over the edge, as his grip tightened and he pumped up into her hard and fast, taking her ruthlessly and just the way she liked. Her orgasm burst from within, starting deep in her belly and then spreading over her entire body, pleasure throbbing through her as she called out Dylan’s name. His movements faltered, and she felt his cock pulse inside her several times before his muscles relaxed and his breathing returned to normal.

“Goddamn,” he whispered against her neck, trailing soft kisses over the damp skin there. He lifted his face and trailed his fingers over her cheek. “I love you, Mags. Love every inch of you. Every part of you. And I want everything with you. The good days and the bad days and everything in between. I want to celebrate every victory with you and commiserate every loss. I want to watch your career take off and grow. I want every single second of however much time I have left on this planet with you. I want to spend every single day trying to be worthy of you. I want it all.”

Her throat tightened and tears filled her eyes at his words. “I love you too, D, and I want everything with you. I want to wrap my life around yours until we can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. But there’s no rush, you know? We have so much time in front of us.”

“Well, you’d better move in with me, then.” She laughed, and he shook his head. “I’m serious. I’m a heartbeat away from going ring shopping, so you moving in is my not rushing compromise.” His cock flexed, still hard and buried inside her.

Excitement whirled through her, making her slightly dizzy at the idea of Dylan shopping for a ring and she tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Well, yeah, since ring shopping is maybe a little premature, I guess I’ll just have to move in with you.”

Dylan kissed her, and everything in Maggie’s life was right.

THE END

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And keep reading to jump right in to Wild Card, Marlowe and Hunter’s story!

Marlowe groaned and peeled her eyes open, instantly regretting it as soon as she did. Shards of light shone through the edges of the sloppily closed curtains, making her brain feel like it was being stabbed with hot needles. She swallowed thickly, trying to get the taste of roasted sawdust out of her mouth. Her pulse throbbed sluggishly in her temples and her stomach simmered with a nausea that made her not want to move.

She could feel Hunter’s solid frame in the bed beside her, could hear his deep breathing. She shifted in the bed and knocked against something hard and cold. With a frown, she reached down into the sheets and pulled out an empty champagne bottle. She stared at it for a second, trying to remember where it had come from, and that’s when she saw it: the delicate little ring on her finger that she didn’t recognize. It was a slender silver band that held a solitary moonstone. It was pretty, actually, but she didn’t really remember…where…

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, still clutching the empty champagne bottle and staring at the ring. Her mind lurched along with her stomach as snippets of last night came back to her, floating to the surface of her memory like submerged lily pads in a pond. Gambling in the Paris casino, Hunter making her all kinds of crazy bets. She’d promised him a date, which he’d doubled down on and won two dates. Then he’d bet an exorbitant amount of money on the roulette table, had kissed her for luck and bet her that if he won, they’d hop over to the little chapel and get married.

Everything went really fuzzy after that, save for a few swirling, nebulous images of a veil, a chapel, and a kiss. She sat up and the room spun sickly around her for a moment. She pressed a hand to her forehead and took several deep breaths through her nose, trying to calm her stomach down. A cheap looking veil sat discarded on the floor, and as she stared at it, another memory pushed to the surface of Hunter helping her try it on in the little store at the front of the chapel.

Oh, God. They’d gotten married.

“Shit shit shit shit,” she mumbled to herself, panic rising in her chest and tightening her throat, which did nothing to help the sick feeling rolling through her stomach. Still staring at the veil, she reached over and gave Hunter a shake. “Hunter, wake up.” She shook him again, and when he still didn’t move, she turned to look at him.

Sprawled on his stomach with his arms on either side of his head, he snored softly. And on his left ring finger was a simple silver band.

Panic and nausea danced together, making sweat break out along her hairline. “Hunter,” she said, louder this time as she gave his shoulder a hard shove. His snoring faltered slightly but he still didn’t move. Frustration took over and she grabbed her pillow and hit him with it. “Hunter, wake the hell up!”

He let out a small little groan as his head jerked up off the pillow, his eyes still mostly closed. “Wha? What time is it?”

She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. She didn’t have time to process the literally hundreds of texts and emails blowing up her notifications right now. Great. So much for keeping this debacle secret. “Almost eleven.”

He yawned and rolled over, tucking his arm under his pillow. Marlowe rose up onto her knees, her own pillow clutched in her hands. She thumped him with it with each word. “Hunter. Blake. Wake. Up. Now!”

He sat up and pushed a hand through his sleep rumpled hair, leaving it standing up at an awkward but endearing angle. He rubbed his eyes and then let out a hiss.

“Ah, shit. I slept with my contacts in last night. Hang on.” He threw the sheets back and padded—completely naked—into the bathroom. Marlowe could only watch his muscled ass as it disappeared.

How had this happened? What were they going to do? With a little sigh, she managed to pull herself out of bed. She looked down and saw that she was wearing nothing but Hunter’s T-shirt. Her husband’s T-shirt. She pulled open the mini-fridge and helped herself to a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and draining it. She set the empty bottle down on the table and then sank back down onto the bed. Hunter emerged from the bathroom, wearing a pair of glasses and boxer briefs. She’d never seen him in glasses before, and she had to admit, they were sexy as hell. Not that now was really the time for thoughts like that. They had bigger things to deal with.

He held up his left hand. “Uh, where did this come from?”

She picked up the champagne bottle and her veil, holding them up like evidence in a court case. “I’m pretty sure we got married last night.”

She hadn’t been sure what kind of reaction to expect from him. Shock, maybe, or an apology for letting things get out of hand. Panic, like the kind clawing at her throat right now. So she was completely thrown when a wide grin spread across his face. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously?”

She set the veil and champagne bottle down and twisted her fingers in front of her. “Um, well, I think so. I don’t…exactly…remember.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, but that Cheshire grin stayed firmly in place. Then he looked down at his ring and then back up at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the nausea roiling through her crested and she pressed a hand to her mouth and sprinted to the bathroom.

Once she was finished emptying the contents of her stomach, she sat on the cold floor for several moments, trying to get her bearings. Okay, so they’d gotten married. They could just…undo it, right? Get it annulled or whatever? She dropped her head into her hands, feeling as though her entire world had been turned upside down. A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“Marlowe? You okay in there?” came Hunter’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” she said, pushing up off the floor. “Just brushing my teeth.”

“I found something out here you’ll want to see.”

She hastily grabbed her toothbrush, squirted some toothpaste on it with shaking hands, shoved it into her mouth, then pulled the door open. “Wha?”

He held out a white folder embossed with gold, his expression unreadable. She took it and flipped it open. On the left side was a marriage certificate bearing each of their signatures, and on the other was a picture of her and Hunter, walking back down the aisle hand in hand, smiling at each other like a couple of goofy, love-struck kids. Her toothbrush started to slip out of her mouth and she clamped down on it with her lips just in time. She’d seen so many pictures of herself over the course of her career, but she’d never seen one like this. Never seen one so…real. So true. She looked so carefree, so happy, so completely absorbed in Hunter, basking in the way he was looking at her. Everything she’d fought so hard to suppress, to keep locked away, was right there, shining through like a sunbeam cutting through clouds.

She didn’t want to fall in love with Hunter. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let it happen, but apparently, when she hadn’t been paying attention, it already had.

“We have to undo this. Get an annulment or something. This…no.” She shook her head and handed the folder back to him, then went back in the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth. When she came back out, Hunter was looking down at the photo, a thoughtful, almost wistful expression on his face.

Guilt ate at her like rust on metal as she looked at him. She didn’t deserve him, didn’t deserve his kindness or his…anything, really, because she couldn’t return it. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but that she didn’t know how to without losing herself and setting herself up for unbearable pain in the process.

He sank down onto the love seat, still looking at the folder’s contents. She walked over to the table where she’d left her phone and picked it up, ignoring all of the notifications, knowing she’d have to deal with them later, but right now, she had more important things to deal with. She opened up her web browser and Googled “how to get an annulment.”

An awkward silence descended over the room, the weight of everything they weren’t saying filling up the space between them and making the air feel heavy. As she scrolled through websites gathering information, Hunter sat very still, still looking at the certificate and the picture. She had to admit, she wanted to know what was going through his mind right now, but she felt like asking that would be opening a can of worms she couldn’t handle. Finally, he let out a sigh, tossed the folder down on the love seat beside him, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked. “I need something in my stomach.”

“Let’s order room service. I’m not ready to face the world yet.”

“Why? You think people know?”

“Given the number of emails and texts and missed calls I have, yeah, I’d say that’s a safe bet.” She almost choked on her last word and she let out a little laugh. “Remind me never to gamble with you again.”

He shot her a rueful smile, a tiny glint of the usual troublemaking Hunter shining through his hangover. And maybe something besides the hangover. He seemed…melancholy, especially compared to his usual self. “Right back atcha, Lolo,” he said, using the nickname she absolutely hated. She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed, then picked up the phone to order them some breakfast.

After he’d hung up, she let him know what she’d found. “So it looks like we both have to file a petition for annulment.”

“On what grounds?”

Her eyes skimmed down the page. “It says here that the possible grounds are if we’re related by blood…”

“Nope.”

“If we needed parental consent…”

“Also no.”

“One of us was legally married to someone else…”

“All clear there.”

“One of us is mentally incompetent…”

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but that ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Or, the last option, if consent was obtained fraudulently.” She shrugged and looked up at him. “I mean, you kinda tricked me with the bet and…”

He laughed. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. There was no trickery. I made you a bet, you agreed to it, I won fair and square.” He reached for the folder, opened it and held it up for her to see, pointing at their picture. “Does this look like I tricked you?”

“I look drunk.”

“Drunk in love.”

“Thank you, Beyonce.”

“I thought I was Rick Astley.”

She blew out a frustrated breath and dropped her phone onto the bed. “Fine. I guess it’ll have to be good old-fashioned divorce.” She pushed up off the bed and sat down beside him, taking his hand. His ring caught the light, winking at her. Something forlorn and almost dreamy twisted in her chest, but she pushed it away. “I’m sorry, Hunter.” She implored him with her eyes to understand just how sorry she was. Sorry for last night. Sorry she couldn’t give him more. Sorry he was probably hurting right now and it was her fault. “I’m really sorry.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to—” The rest of his sentence was cut off with a sharp knock on the door as their breakfast arrived. He stood, tugged on his discarded jeans and headed for the door.

They ate in silence, and all Marlowe could think about was the colossal mess she’d made.

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