10. Monroe

TEN

MONROE

"Where are you from originally?" Dana asks as she holds her champagne glass gingerly between her manicured fingers. I learned that she runs one of the children's charities the baseball team works with, so she's here to thank everyone whose donations make a difference in the lives of the kids she works with. She seems nice, but something about her has been rubbing me the wrong way since I came over here.

"Well, I'm originally from California. But I met Riggs in Boston, where I've been living for the last two years," I reply.

"We were all so surprised to hear that he actually has a girlfriend," she says. "To be honest with you, for a while there, we thought maybe you weren't real."

"It was a whirlwind at first, but he ended up winning me over. Now I can't imagine my life without him," I say, glancing over my shoulder at the table where he's talking to his teammates. It's not a complete lie. Our night together was definitely a whirlwind. So what if the events that have happened since aren't exactly the stuff of fairytales? Fake it till you make it, right? I'm just here to make him look good so the team stops putting so much pressure on him to straighten up.

The woman next to me—Sasha, I think her name is—scoffs quietly. I slide my eyes over in her direction, narrowing them slightly because what the fuck is this bitch's problem ? Ever since Taylor called me over here, I've felt a negative energy coming from her. I'm really good at reading vibes, and hers suck.

"What?" I ask, every nerve in my body on high alert as she slowly takes a sip from her glass and lowers it.

"Oh, nothing," she says with a fake-as-fuck smile. "It's just that everybody knows that Riggs Valentine doesn't generally keep the company of a woman longer than a few hours. I know from experience that that man isn't capable of giving more than a couple of orgasms before he makes his way to the next unsuspecting victim."

I look up at the other women, expecting them to be shocked at her words, but aside from Taylor who now has her eyes averted to another part of the room, they're looking back at me as if this is old news. As if they're all in agreement that there's nothing more to Riggs than what he does in the bedroom. But they're wrong.

He and I may have our differences, and maybe we'll never mesh, but I've watched him with his family and friends. I know that when his sister was younger, he and his best friend included her in everything they did, no matter how annoying she was. I know that when his dad had back surgery, he used almost his entire offseason to help him run their construction business, refusing to take any money in return. I also know that since I've moved here, I haven't added a single thing to his grocery list, yet all my favorites continue to show up in the delivery order.

There's so much more to Riggs that these people have never seen. They don't know who he really is.

I straighten to my full height, mustering up all the confidence I can find. "That man over there," I say, lifting my chin back to the table where he sits, "is amazing. He's selfless, loving, and would give the shirt off his back to anyone in need. It's a shame you're too bitter and spiteful to see it." I turn to the others. "It was nice meeting you all. I should get back to my date now."

I turn on my heel, making a beeline straight for Riggs. He catches me out of the corner of his eye and turns to face me as I approach. Without even giving it a second thought, I put one hand on the back of his chair, lean down and press my lips against his. I'm sure they're all still watching, so I put on a show, using my tongue to trace his plump lower lip until he opens for me. His hand ghosts over my waist as we kiss, and just that simple touch is a reminder of the way he made me feel two years ago.

I haven't forgotten what it felt like to be with him. Quite the contrary, in fact. I'm not shy about my sexual explorations. I was raised to be prim and proper, never giving my body or pleasure away to whoever I wanted. I lost my virginity to Conrad, but he never gave me what I needed. It was only about him. I was just a tool he used to get himself off. So, being with Riggs the first night I was in Massachusetts? That was the first time I really felt like what I was doing was for me. And I haven't been able to replicate that since.

I've been open to new partners. I've told them what I liked, and they've tried to give it to me, but they've never matched up. I think that's part of the reason why I'm so angry with Riggs, and why his mere presence in my life makes me want to rip my own hair out. It's not even his fault. He tried to get me to open up to him. He tried to get me to share more of myself than just my body. I didn't want that. I still don't. But the fact that he still has such a hold on me this long after we were together isn't an easy pill to swallow.

Those women weren't wrong. He does sleep around. It's something he's quite proud of, and that's fine. He never leads anyone on, and they know the score before they make the decision to have sex with him. But the way that they spoke about him, like that's all he has to offer, was fucked up. I have no problem showing them they're wrong.

He growls into my mouth and his hand on my waist tightens almost to the point of pain. I whimper quietly and that breaks the spell that he's under. He quickly rips his head back but never loses eye contact as he stares at me with a look that's equal parts confusion and heat.

"Fuck, Mayhem," he says on an exhale. He's still in shock, and I barely register the fact that everyone at the table is staring at us until someone clears their throat.

I slip back into character, the corners of my mouth lifting in a sweet smile. "I was gone too long," I say, just loud enough for everyone around us to hear. "I missed you." He swallows thickly, nodding before grabbing my wrist and pulling me down into his lap. I can feel his thick cock pressing up against the back of my thigh. I try not to act surprised, but can't help the wetness that begins to gather in my panties, knowing that one kiss turned him on so much. He must've wanted me to feel it, otherwise he would have just let me sit down in a different chair.

My instinct is to say something smart—to try to piss him off. But for some reason, I settle into his chest and wrap my arms around his neck loosely. The table slips back into their quiet conversations, and we move on as if this is all so normal for us. Like we won't be at each other's throats the second we're alone, just like we always are. It's just… us.

But I'll be damned if I don't make it clear to all these people that they're lucky to have a guy like Riggs Valentine on their team.