More than the Game by Jenni Bara
18
@CelebPeopleMag:@HotShotDemoda files lawsuit against @NYStarPost over photos from the weekend
@ETWeekly:@HotShotDemoda tells social media to back off his relationship in multiple heated messages—does this mean it’s serious, or is it seriously falling apart?
Marc looked at the flowers on the seat next to him. They were Sid’s idea. Unlike everyone else, she believed him when he said he wasn’t checking out other women, despite the picture. Too bad Beth didn’t believe it.
After over a week of spotlight dating, Beth had claimed exhaustion last night and begged out of dinner with Sid and Austin. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been great, smiling for the reporters, laughing off the photo from the papers. Even when they were alone together, she wasn’t cold. She acted like everything was normal, and it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal to him. He’d felt something change between them that day at the carnival, but now that had disappeared. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but somehow, she’d pulled away.
Not so much physically. He took her to Beatrice Inn on Tuesday, and she even danced all night with him. Boy, did he love how she felt moving in his arms. Of course, that meant he needed a cold shower when he got home, but it had been fun.
Last night, however, he had not had fun. His one-eighty on dealing with the media not only made Sid think something was different, but it had Austin asking questions that Marc wasn’t willing to answer.
Anything with Beth was private. That was the new policy they all needed to work with—which Austin pointed out was ridiculous because she was in the media, making him look good. Marc didn’t care. He wasn’t so unreasonable he wanted a ‘no comment’ policy but he wanted to limit what his team told the media and if any outlet printed anything not approved, he wanted to sue for character defamation. If Beth okayed a shot of them, then that was fine; otherwise, it was off fucking limits. And he didn’t care how much it cost him.
Austin still said that was completely unreasonable and wouldn’t work. Tying up millions of dollars in retainers with lawyers wasn’t the answer. One lawsuit might give the media pause, but Marc couldn’t go crazy.
The problem was, he felt crazy. He’d always let the media into his life, because for him it was never a big deal. But now it was different. Marc hadn’t known how the press became a third person in a relationship, causing conflict, adding drama. It was one thing when the media was talking about him; he had thick skin. But it was something else when they went after someone he cared about. He wasn’t happy to hear Austin telling him that the most he could do was redirect, give them something else to talk about, and move on.
So he did the only other thing he could: He added security. He couldn’t stand the idea of having a shadow always with him, or forcing that on Beth and the kids, but he could have a team to sweep her street, and his. They’d stay in the background, unnoticed but there, just in case.
He clicked his key fob and opened her gate, then drove slowly into the driveway. With the two dozen white roses in hand, he headed for the door. The house sounded like a circus, but that didn’t worry him anymore. He looked forward to the madness. It kept things interesting.
He rang the bell, shocked when Beth opened the door, not seeming to care that her dogs ran out yapping. She looked awful—she was pale, with dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. She stood there in sweats, Katie on her hip, and just stared at him. He hadn’t realized she was this tired. No—something was wrong. The panic that bubbled up inside his gut shocked him even more than Beth’s appearance.
“Go away,” she said, but there was no force behind the words. She tried to shut the door, but he was quicker. He wasn’t leaving until he knew what was going on. He went inside, bringing the barking mutts with him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to touch her forehead. “Beth, you’re burning up.”
“I know.” She coughed.
“So why aren’t you in bed? You need to be resting, not babysitting.”
“Because it’s my job. I can’t stay in bed and leave everyone downstairs alone.”
Beth wobbled on her feet, and he grabbed the toddler before she sank onto the floor in a puddle. Even after he got Katie into the contraption that hung from the door frame and set the flowers on the counter, Beth still hadn’t moved. She was sick.
Marc didn’t do sick; he should go. This was one of those responsibility things he didn’t want and hadn’t signed up to handle. But then she coughed again, a deep rumble in her chest.
He wasn’t leaving her alone. Marc squatted down beside her, scooped her into his arms, and headed upstairs.
“What are you doing?” she moaned, but she leaned into him.
“I’m getting you into bed and then calling one of your brothers, which is what you should have done.”
“Please don’t.” She sounded pathetic. A surge of protectiveness washed through him. This woman needed someone looking out for her, helping her, taking fucking care of her for once.
“If they knew you were sick, they’d be here. So why didn’t you tell them?”
“They’d buzz over me like I’m an invalid. They have issues. I’ll be fine.”
He could understand that; her brothers tended to be over the top about everything in life. “Beth, you need some sleep,” he said, and pulled back the blankets of her unmade bed before setting her in it. “How long have you been sick?”
“Yesterday.” Beth shivered, and he pulled the covers up over her.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night when you called?”
“You would’ve told someone.”
He thought about shaking some sense into the woman. Of course he would have called someone.
“Why do you have extra kids?”
“My sister was out of town last night so I’ve had her kids since yesterday morning,” Beth mumbled. “And Trish knew I wasn’t feeling great, but her situation is complicated and she doesn’t have any other options. I couldn’t just leave her hanging. And you’re not calling my brothers. I forbid it.”
She tried to make the threat sound serious, but her voice was comically weak. She shifted into a sitting position, but Marc pushed her back down, pulling the covers over her again. She was the weakling here, yet she held all the power. He would do just about anything to keep her in bed, including dealing with the kids himself.
He didn’t understand what was going on with him. This was exactly why he didn’t do relationships. But the idea of her getting out of this bed left him ridiculously unsettled.
She had to get better. He needed her to be okay. He didn’t know why it mattered so much. But it did.
“I’ll watch the kids. Take a nap,” Marc said, and relaxed when she eased back against the pillow.
“Okay, a nap, and then you’ll go,” Beth agreed, and she was asleep before he even got out the door. She needed to think more about herself. A little selfishness wouldn’t hurt her.
Hours later at almost nine thirty he’d finally gotten all the kids off with their parents or asleep in their beds. He had spent the day keeping Beth in bed and taking care of everything, but he wasn’t anywhere near as organized as she was. Her sister had chuckled at the mess and brushed pizza off his shirt when she picked up her three kids two hours ago, and Beth’s friend Trish had rushed her two out the door around five thirty. Steve’s bedtime was eight, but Marc hadn’t even gotten Mandy into bed until almost eight thirty. She had begged to stay up ‘just ten more minutes,’ which led to him carrying her up already sound sleep. Steve had been up until ten minutes ago. Unlike Mandy, he hadn’t wanted Marc to take him up. Instead, he’d shot him an edgy look and rushed upstairs alone.
Exhausted, Marc headed to Beth’s room with a bowl of soup on a tray. The kids had tons of energy, never slowed down, and Mandy—she never shut up. Man, that girl could talk. Even if she was alone in a room, she talked to herself. The day had seemed never-ending.
Marc opened the door quietly when his knock got no response. He had heard the shower turn on about an hour ago, so it was no surprise to see Beth’s damp curls lying loosely around her face and bare shoulders as she slept, snuggled into the comforter. Her arm rested against her chest and her hand curled on the pillow under her chin. Against the white pillowcase, her face was still pale, but most of the color had come back; the circles that had been under her eyes that morning had almost disappeared.
He stood there, watching her breathing steadily in and out. Setting the tray on the dresser, he crossed to the bed and tucked a blond curl behind her ear, and she stirred when he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her fever was gone.
She moaned softly and stretched in a very feminine way, sending the scent of peaches into the air. His body reacted instinctively. A beautiful pajama-clad angel squirming always got his hormones raging, and the blood that had been racing through his body moments ago took a beeline south.
His reaction amazed him. The moment Beth opened her emerald-green eyes and smiled weakly at him, all he could think about was climbing into the bed and pressing himself inside her until she was screaming his name.
He frowned. There was something wrong with him. Sick women should not turn him on. But Beth did—although lately she always did, even if she didn’t believe it.
“Are the kids in bed?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. She moved a stray curl off her face, her hair looking rumpled as if she’d spent hours having hot sex instead of a nap. He felt like he could pull that comforter away and push her right back into the pillow.
“Marc?” Beth asked. She was obviously waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t remember the question. God damn, he had been like a randy teenager from the moment he’d walked into her bedroom. Suddenly he couldn’t form coherent thoughts. “The kids—are they okay? Are they in bed?”
“Kids… Yeah, in bed or at home,” he said. Now he was staring at her mouth while she bit that hot little lip between her teeth.
“Thank you so much for today, Marc.” Sheer gratitude reflected on her face.
He shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed. “You hungry, or did you want to sleep some more?” Marc asked, looking at the tray of soup and crackers. The reason he had come into her room.
“I’ll eat. I was watching Corey pitch; tell me he didn’t blow it. I’m not up for a pep talk.” Beth looked from Marc to the television, which was showing a disgusting public service announcement about not smoking. Perfect turn-off.
“No, he’s doing fine. Probably done though—bottom of the eighth.”
“Want to watch the end with me? I can go downstairs.”
“No, don’t get up,” he blurted. He wouldn’t be able to think if he saw the rest of those barely-there PJs.
“Okay, we can watch up here.” She scooted to the other side of the bed, making room for him. That wasn’t what he meant.
The comforter fell away, and front and center on that tank top were two hard, round nipples. Goosebumps covered her arms, indicating the cause of her reaction, but reason be damned. They were like bullseyes, taunting him, saying, ‘Come and get me. Don’t you want to feel these under your hands? Don’t you want a taste?’ Yes, damn it, he did.
Do not get into that bed.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Sure,” he said, knowing it was a mistake even as he grabbed the food tray and settled next to her on the bed.
Don’t think of it as a bed.
“What’s the score?” Beth asked, shifting positions again to eat the soup. Now he could see her short pink shorts. Was she trying to torture him?
She had some messed-up ideas about how to be friends with a guy. He blamed her brothers for that. Although they treated her like a girl in some ways, they also treated her like an asexual being. She had no idea that lying in bed with a man you weren’t fucking wasn’t normal. He doubted many men would be able to sit in a bed with her and not think about what else they could be doing.
We’re friends. We’re not having sex. Get over it.
He grabbed one of the many pillows all over the bed and placed it on his lap to hide the evidence that he didn’t want to be just friends. With his arms crossed, he uncomfortably settled in.
“Marc?”
Damn it, what was the question—ah! The score. “Five to three Metros,” he said. “As long as they don’t blow it, Corey’ll finally get a win.” Surprisingly, his voice sounded normal, even though he was gritting his teeth.
“He’ll be happy, although he’ll probably want to die before he admits you were right about his release point. But the proof’s in the pudding—three good games in a row. Did you eat?” Beth asked, moving to set her tray on the floor.
Marc was proud of himself for not groaning when he got a glimpse of her ass.
Watch the game. Don’t stare at your friend’s ass. Because that’s what we are. Friends. That’s it. That’s what she wants.
“Marc?” she asked, looking at him with those big candy green eyes that made him think of green M&Ms. At that moment it was clear how pathetic he had become. Her eyes made his stomach tighten.
“Yeah, we got pizza from Ray’s. By the way, you’ve ruined those kids. They made me get them veggie pizza. What kind of kids ask for veggies on pizza?” Marc said, focusing entirely on the TV as Beth settled herself back against her pillow. His muscles clenched, and he had to cross his arms over his chest again to keep from touching her. He was dying to touch her. He took another breath of peaches and almost groaned.
She didn’t realize what she was doing to him. She didn’t seem to be aware of how close they were sitting, but he was very aware of her in every respect. The heat radiating off her body, the sexy sound of her voice that echoed into his bones as she talked, the smell of her freshly bathed skin, the way she looked in that skimpy tank top…
Don’t groan.
He stared at the TV. She was saying something, but he had no idea what because he was working on the mother of all hard-ons, and she didn’t seem to notice or care.
This was a mistake, and it wasn’t one he would make again. He should never have agreed to get into bed with her and watch TV. He wanted her. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the entire day sick; it didn’t matter that they were just friends. Hell, it didn’t matter if the house was on fire—he’d happily burn if it meant getting this woman. He wanted her in so many ways, and not all of them involved seeing her naked.
She was still talking about something. So far, she hadn’t required a response, which was good because Marc wouldn’t have been able to give her one. She squirmed against him, trying to get more comfortable, and he snapped.
“I can’t do this,” he practically shouted. He jumped off the bed, leaving her toppling over.
“Huh?” She looked up, baffled.
“Beth, I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want to lie in a bed with you and watch TV. I don’t want you to sit next to me and chat, because I can’t have a conversation with you.”
Beth averted her eyes, looking like he had slapped her, and he felt like an ass.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but didn’t look at him.
Shit, he’d just made everything ten times worse because she didn’t understand.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know we agreed to stay friends, but—”
“It’s okay. I’m sure if we spend a few hours a week together in public for the press, that’ll be enough.” Beth’s teeth sank into her lush lip, and he couldn’t stop the groan. He needed to be the one nipping at her mouth.
“Beth, you’re not getting it. I want to spend more time together, not less. I wouldn’t mind being with you right now, sitting here, if I wasn’t consumed with thoughts of getting you out of those skimpy pajamas.” She started to say something, but he held his hand up. “If I get back in that bed with you, I’m going to kiss you, and it’s going to be the ‘ravage your sexy little mouth’ kind of kiss.”
She looked utterly shocked. She might have looked less stunned if he’d told her he thought he was Santa Claus.
“I didn’t think…” She let her sentence trail off and fiddled with the ring on her thumb. “But I have short legs,” she finally managed.
She had some weird thing about her legs that he didn’t understand. Her legs made his mouth water. Her legs made him picture them wrapped around his hips while he sank into everything she offered.
“I—” He paused, unsure what to do with that. He decided to get back to the point. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life.”
It was probably a terrible idea to sleep with her, and he didn’t care. He’d worry about the consequences tomorrow.
She said nothing, just looked at him with uncertainty. He moved slowly, giving her time to stop him, but she didn’t seem like she was going to. His heart rate sped up as he climbed across the bed to her.
“Last chance,” he said gruffly and grabbed the back of her neck.
She looked at him and smiled slightly. “If you get sick, it’s your fault.”
He laughed, really laughed. At this moment he didn’t give a flying fuck if he got sick. He placed his lips on hers.
For a moment, she didn’t respond to his kiss—just sat there, letting him brush his lips over her mouth. Then she relaxed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. Surrender.
Finally. She’s mine.
But of course, since this was Beth’s house, the damn phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Marc growled. He kissed a sensitive spot on her neck and she drew in a sudden breath. “They’ll leave a message if it’s important.” His lips trailed lightly along her neck and jawline until she melted into him.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, and caught his mouth with hers.
Of course her machine would be in the bedroom. Who doesn’t have their answering machine in their bedroom? Who the fuck still has an answering machine?
Her brother’s voice rang through the air. “It’s Clayton. Pick up your phone. I know you’re there. Doug’s here, and he said he dropped pizza off at your house earlier and Steve told him you’re in bed sick. Why didn’t you call someone? Pick up, or I’m coming over to check on you!”
Just what he wanted—her brother here, just when he’d finally gotten her in bed. Especially since they were like fruit flies: Once you let one in, they multiplied before you could stop them. And they were all but impossible to get rid of.
“Get it,” Marc demanded, and Beth nodded.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
So was he.
“Clayton, I’m in bed,” Beth said as she picked up the phone. “No, my cell’s downstairs. I was, uh…” Her eyes met Marc’s. “Watching the game.” He chuckled when she blushed. Guess she didn’t want to tell him she was about to have sex.
Probably not a bad idea. The brothers had already interrogated Marc about their relationship. Danny had been the one to ask the question, but the intense stares of the others while they waited for Marc’s answer had made it clear that he was speaking for them all. Marc had told them nothing was going on, and Will had informed him that the boys would want to know if that changed. He owed the boys the conversation, and hopefully they’d give them their blessing and not castrate him. He just didn’t want to talk about it now.
“But I’m fine… I didn’t need any help… Well, Marc stopped by… Yes. Why is that surprising? I didn’t call him. He just came over… You all do that.” Marc chuckled again. That was true. “No, don’t come. I’m okay. Steve and Mandy are asleep; there’s no reason—” She looked helplessly at him. “Fine, in the morning then. … Okay, love you too. Bye.”
Beth dropped the phone back onto the nightstand. “He’s mad.”
“I get that.” It irritated him too that she hadn’t called for help, but he wouldn’t bring that up right now. “Now, where were we?” he asked, and rubbed his thumb on her cheek, letting his fingers run through those curls of hers. Her teeth began to gnaw on her bottom lip again. At this point, that should be his job, and he wasn’t letting her overthink this.
“I think we were right about here,” he said, catching her mouth with his again—just as Mandy screamed. “Oh, for the love of God.” He flopped himself back onto the pillows.
“Mama, it’s too dark,” Mandy screeched from the other room.
“Her closet light must not be on,” Beth said with a sigh. She pulled herself out of bed, leaving him alone in her room.
This wasn’t working. Too many people needed Beth’s attention, and when he finally got her into bed, Marc wanted it all for himself. He sat up and accepted that tonight wouldn’t be the night—but it wouldn’t be much longer, he promised himself. He’d had his fill of cold showers.
He slammed his feet back into the sneakers he had kicked off not long before and headed into the hall.
Beth walked out of Mandy’s room. He looked at that little pink tank top and shorts and his gut clenched, and he almost reconsidered.
Good things come to those who wait.
“Are you leaving?” He couldn’t help but be pleased to see a trace of disappointment on her face when he nodded. But he didn’t want her to think he had changed his mind.
“Tomorrow night, you’re going to get a babysitter. I want you all to myself,” he said.
“Tomorrow?” Beth asked, looking up at him with that sparkle in her emerald eyes.
“Yes,” Marc said, and settled his mouth on hers for one more taste before he had to leave. He was going to plan a night that had nothing to do with anything but him and Beth.
He was taking her on their first real date.