7. RiggsMonroe

SEVEN

RIGGS

"How was the drive?" I ask, standing beside Monroe in the elevator as we ascend to my floor. She's got several bags slung over her shoulder and the handle of a rolling suitcase in each hand as she stares at the door like she's waiting for it to open so she can get away from me. I attempted to carry her luggage in from the car, but she snapped at me and told me to "back the fuck off" , then proceeded to load herself up and trudge into the building like a pack mule while I followed with empty hands. The glares I got from all the rich old ladies in the lobby were special.

"Long," she says, blowing out a breath. She looks like she's been through the wringer, and I want to say I told her so about driving instead of flying, but I have a feeling she isn't in the mood to go back and forth with me. So I keep the thought to myself. There will be plenty of time to get under her skin and see how many of her buttons I can push later.

The doors slide open, and I motion for her to exit first, following and taking a right down the hallway. She pulls her suitcases slowly enough that we're walking side by side, and I catch her off guard when I reach over and take the handle from her grip. She looks up at me with a scowl but doesn't move to grab it back.

We reach the very last door and I press my finger to the digital pad to unlock it. As soon as I hear the faint click , I push down on the handle and swing my door open. I let Monroe walk in front of me, expecting a grand reaction to my luxurious condo, but she just heads through the entryway and turns to me without even taking in her surroundings.

"This is nice," she says, but her tone tells me she isn't nearly as impressed as most of the other guests I've had here. Either she's holding back, or she's seen places like this before because even I can admit that the living area alone is awe-inspiring. The floors are bright white marble that gleams even as the sun begins to set. The walls are also white, with recessed lighting along the ceilings to make everything look clean and open. The far wall has a mounted seventy-seven-inch television with a full audio system. Underneath it is a built-in electric fireplace, that's really more for aesthetics than anything else, since the temperature here doesn't drop very often. And the entire back wall is all windows, giving an amazing view of Daytona Beach. The section directly below us is actually reserved as a topless area, which was really a selling point for me. The women here are all knockouts with gorgeous bodies.

Monroe will fit right in.

I clear my throat, not really sure how to handle her nonchalance. "Ummmm," I trail off. "This is obviously the living area. The kitchen is to your left. Help yourself to whatever you want, whenever you want." I tip my head toward the stairs. "Your room is up here," I say. She nods tightly and follows me as I lead her to the room directly next to mine. There are more bedrooms, but this is the only other one that faces the beach, so I thought she'd want it. Unfortunately, we'll share a wall, but I'll take all my self-care activities to my ensuite bathroom so she doesn't hear me. This is temporary anyway, and it's a small sacrifice to make when it means getting my job back on track.

"Feel free to unpack into the dresser and closet," I tell her. "The bathroom is right down the hall. I have my own, so don't worry about leaving all your girly shit on the counter. And if you want to decorate a different way, just let me know and I'll have my designer take care of it."

She looks at me, the hint of a smile tipping up one corner of her mouth. It almost makes me wish I could redo the past two years. I don't regret the night I spent with Monroe, but I shouldn't have been so vague with the details of who I was. She obviously had some hang-ups about not wanting to exchange personal information, and I'll admit I deceived her on purpose. I just wanted to be regular guy with her—not a famous athlete.

As much as I love playing the field when it comes to women, sometimes I actually do want to enjoy their company outside of just fucking them. It's rare, but every now and then I feel more than just a physical connection. That night, I did. We talked for a hell of a lot longer than I normally do with anyone at the bar before I invited her back to my hotel. She intrigued me so much with the way our conversation came so easily, and I wasn't ready to let her go. Believe it or not, I had no intentions of fucking her, but when I set my hand on her thigh in the back seat of the Uber, the heat that traveled through my arm and straight to my dick was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I went completely feral at the contact and couldn't stop myself from taking her mouth in the dirtiest first kiss I'd ever experienced. By the time I shoved her through the door to my room, my animal instincts had kicked in, and all I could think about was taking her in the most primal way.

Normally, that's a part of myself that I try hard to suppress. The urges that I get to let go of all logic and give in to my impulses are so hard to control if I let them take up space in my brain that I push them away as fast as they come on. But that night with Monroe?

I gave in.

She let me give her all of me, in my rawest, realest form. And the rush I got when I sunk my teeth into her flesh while I brutally fucked her like an animal is something I haven't forgotten. I don't think I ever will.

I snap out of my thoughts to see her still staring, an almost questioning look burning into me. "Okay," I say awkwardly, shoving my hands into the pockets of my shorts. "I'll leave you to get settled in. The fridge and pantry are full, but just put anything else you want on the list on the iPad in the kitchen and I'll make sure it gets added to the grocery delivery."

She nods her head in understanding. "Got it."

I turn and walk toward the door, stopping to face her again. "Thanks for doing this," I say quietly. "I really appreciate it."

She raises a brow. "Don't make me regret it," she replies, but her eyes dance with playfulness. I haven't seen her like this in so long, it catches me off guard, but I try not to act affected as I give her a tight nod and leave the room with a million thoughts running rampant in my head.

MONROE

Awkward, party of two, your table's ready.

As soon as Riggs closes the door to my bedroom, I let out the breath I was holding, allowing my tense shoulders to sag in relief. What the actual fuck was that? Not only did he thank me and offer to let me redecorate his house, but the way he stared at me for several minutes like he was remembering every dirty detail of the last time we were in a room with a bed together made me tingle all over.

So what if I was thinking about it too? It was hot. Sue me.

Anyway, we're going to need to get back to our regularly scheduled insults and indifferent attitudes if this is going to work, because if he starts being sweet and buying me snacks, it's only a matter of time before I fold like a dollar store lawn chair. And that can never happen. I need to use my time here to come up with a business plan so I can put it into motion immediately when I'm done fixing Riggs' fuck-up.

I unpack my suitcases into the dresser and hang the dresses I brought in case we end up at any formal events. Claire let me take a few from the boutique that I had been eyeing, so maybe I'll get a chance to wear them. We really didn't discuss all the things he's expecting from me while I'm here, and I'm not sure what to think, but I guess I'll find out soon enough .

It's late by the time I'm done, and all I can think about is how I haven't eaten since I left the hotel this morning. I have enough money saved up to pay my bills for a few months, with a little extra. But I still didn't want to waste funds on expensive food when I knew I could just eat once I got here. I honestly thought I would be done a little sooner so I could hit the grocery store, but it looks like I'm going to have to find something in the kitchen.

I make my way down the stairs, noticing that the house is completely dark and quiet. He must already be in bed. I make a beeline straight for the refrigerator and look inside. It's full of all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables, but other than that, nothing is looking like it will hit the spot. I'd do some shady shit for a king size Reese's right about now, but the outlook isn't good.

Throwing up a silent prayer, I head toward what I assume is the pantry. I open the door, and the light inside comes on automatically, illuminating the floor-to-ceiling shelving units that are fully stocked. It looks like Riggs might have a bit of a sweet tooth, because although there's no chocolate, there's enough junk food here to feed a small country. This will certainly suffice until I can go out tomorrow.

I settle on a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, bringing them out to the kitchen and sitting down at the breakfast bar. I pull open the bag of chips, the salty scent filling my nose and making my mouth water. Picking up the jar of salsa, I try my hardest to twist off the lid. But no matter how tight I grip it, it won't budge.

Trying another approach, I walk over to the sink and turn on the hot water, tapping my foot against the marble floor as I wait for it to reach the right temperature. I hold the jar under the stream for a while, tucking it under my t-shirt and attempting to twist again, but it still won't pop open.

"What the fuck?" I whine quietly, getting ready to surrender and just eat the chips by themselves. But before I can even turn away from the sink, a warm breath hits my ear.

"Need some help, Mayhem?" Riggs whispers, making me jump so high that I almost drop the salsa right on my foot.

"Asshole!" I screech, turning around and slapping his chest with one hand while the other clutches onto the jar for dear life. As soon as my hand connects, I notice that he's shirtless. His rock-hard muscles are on full display, being illuminated only by the light coming from inside the pantry. I can't tear my eyes away from him, no matter how badly I want to. Flashbacks of being pinned under his body, his chest pressed tightly to my back as he fucked me flood my memory, making me almost moan out loud.

Goddamn this guy. I don't know if I can live like this.

I'm finally able to pull my gaze away, bringing it back up to his face with a scowl. As if he knows exactly what I was thinking about, he smirks, reaching out and grabbing the jar from my hand before popping it open with ease.

"There you go, sweet thing," he says as he sets the salsa on the counter next to the bag of chips. He's still wearing that same cocky smirk, and I want to punch it right off his stupid face.

"Does that self-assured bullshit really work on women? If so, I'm extremely concerned for the future of the female species," I quip, walking past him and settling back down at the bar .

"You tell me," he says. "Did it work the night I gave you the best fuck of your life? If memory serves, I think it did."

My jaw drops open in surprise, but I recover quickly, pretending to gag and throw up all over my chips. "You're a pig," I say. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Hopping off the stool, I walk away, but stop in my tracks to turn around and grab the chips and salsa from the counter. Because I'm definitely still hungry.

"Good night, Mayhem," he sings on a laugh as I flip him off over my shoulder and return to my room with snacks in tow.

I need to figure out how to fix his problem fast so I can get the fuck out of here.