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Straight at her.
Whipping her head back around, she tried to ignore the itch between her shoulder blades. Surely, she was imagining things. There was no reason for them to be staring at her.
Desperate for a distraction, she turned her head to scan the selection of magazines beside the register. The usual array of celebrity faces stared out at her, promising youthful skin and Hollywood secrets.
Then her gaze landed on a tabloid well known for nasty rumors which usually turned out to be only partially true or completely made up. But this particular rumor was absolutely true. Because in the corner, surrounded by all the other juicy celebrity gossip, were pictures of her and Austin.
Baseball Star’s BIG Secret!
Pictures of her, in jeans and a t-shirt, leaving the physical therapist’s office with Austin. The two of them embracing, then kissing on his front porch. And the night they’d gone out to dinner, when he’d asked her to move in with him.
Whoever the photographer was, they’d even managed to snap the few seconds before they got to the restaurant where Austin had slid his hand under her dress, exposing the top of her thigh to the world. She’d slapped at his hand a moment later because he’d refused to return her panties, and she’d been equal parts terrified and exhilarated by the idea that someone might see.
That night had been perfect, from the moment he’d picked her up in a sleek black town car, to the moment they’d fallen into bed together and made love for the first time since his injury.
And a few assholes with cameras had ruined it. Sullied it with their not-at-all-subtle innuendos.
Picking up the tabloid, she tossed it onto the conveyor belt and began stacking the rest of her items behind it. No matter how badly she wanted to break, she would not do it here. She’d be damned if she was going to give herfansthe satisfaction.
The cashier glanced up when she scanned the tabloid, but if she made the connection, she did an admirable job of hiding it. Ten minutes later, Kit’s backseat was filled with groceries and she was backing out of her parking space.
She didn’t stop until she was back at Austin’s. Parked in the driveway, she opened the tabloid and flipped to the “article”.
Nausea bubbled in her stomach. While they never came right out and used the F-word, there were plenty of euphemisms. And the whole thing had a tone of stunned glee, as if they’d caught Austin doing something salacious, something worthy of being printed alongside rumors of adultery and drug use. There was even an entire paragraph dedicated to the theory that Austin had some kind of weird, previously unknown kink. A theory they backed up with pictures of Austin partying with supermodels and a reminder of the brief affair he’d had with Chloe Carlisle, a model who was starting to make a name for herself in Hollywood.
Why, the so-called journalist asked, would he do such a complete one-eighty from his usual type, if it wasn’t some cheap thrill he was chasing? Some weird fetish he’d never publicly indulged in before now?
Why, indeed?
Shoving the magazine into her purse, she forced herself to get out of the car and gather up the groceries. God, what if someone was watching her, taking pictures of her struggling with the bags, her arm fat bulging around the plastic straps digging into her arms?
The thought spurred her into action and she raced for the front door. She didn’t stop until she was in the kitchen, out of breath, dropping the bags on the table.
“Hey, kitten.” Coming up behind her, Austin wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. A move she usually loved, but now all she could feel was how squishy her stomach felt against his muscular arms.
“Hey.” Under the pretext of putting away the groceries, she shrugged off his touch and moved to the other side of the table.
“What’s for dinner?”
“It’s on the menu board,” she snapped, snatching up the dry goods to carry them to the giant walk-in pantry.
Moving faster than the brace on his leg should have allowed, he rounded the table and backed her into a corner of the pantry. “Want to try that again, little girl?”
“It’s on the menu board, sir,” she repeated without dropping any of the attitude.
Bracing one arm on the shelf behind her, he wrapped his free hand around her throat, forcing her head back. “Someone wants to eat dinner standing up. What’s gotten into my sweet little kitten?”
“I’m not sweet. And I’m sure as hell not little. Get off me.”
The hand around her throat tightened and some dark, desperate part of her wept with relief.Yes. Punish me. Fuck me. Make me hurt, make me forget.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but the attitude stops now.” There was no questioning the authority in his voice, but it didn’t settle her as it usually did. All of her emotions felt wild, untethered, and she didn’t know what to do with the chaos tumbling around inside of her.
So she lashed out, praying he’d be able to tame her inner turmoil the way he’d shown her he could. “Whatever.”
She shoved at his chest, expecting him to hold his ground. But he stepped back and she stormed past him, even as a part of her screamed for her to stop, to submit. In some distant part of her mind, she recognized the burning desire to have him be in control, but she didn’t want to give it to him. Why couldn’t he see how desperately she needed him to take it, to take the reins before she spun completely out of control?
“You’ve got about five seconds to start talking to me before I bend you over this table and whip your ass, little girl. What the hell happened at the store?”
