He's right. The Jack doesn't last long, and it hasn't totally killed off my headache either. He's yelling something at me from the bathroom, and I'm trying to tune him out. It ain't happening. I groan and stand up, walking to the door and heading down to the bar before he realises I'm gone. I don't bother to wait for the elevator, I don't know how long I've got before my so called husband comes looking for me, so I take the stairs. I give myself a mental pat on the back for making it to the lobby without falling flat on my face. I spot the bar straight away. There's just one problem. Well, a lobby full of problems actually. I put my head down and make my way past his admirers. I smirk as I make it to the bar without being recognised, grabbing a stool next to the bar as soon as I'm within touching distance. "Jack" I say to the barman. "Double. No ice." He nods and silently pours my drink. I sense him before I see him. "That was rude" he states to my back. "Running out on me while I cleaned up after our frantic session." I frown, spinning around on my stool. I realise the reason for his lies. Fans. Lots of them. "Oh honey" I say holding my arms out to him and cradling his head against my chest. "We were out of Jack. I just came to see if they'd let us have a bottle." He smirks up at me. "Kinda like this position" he whispers wickedly. I groan and let him go. "Come back to bed?" he pouts, no doubt charming the legion of fans watching our exchange. I groan, down my drink, and hold my hand out to him. He smiles and takes my hand, taking the offered bottle of Jack from the barman with a smile of thanks before turning around and pulling me through the group of fans gathered at the door. I start to walk towards the elevators, not even going to attempt the stairs this time, but he pulls me back. "Nuh uh Mrs Good" he drawls. "I'm going outside for a smoke, and you're coming with me." He pulls me to the doors, much to the amusement of the fans, and leads me outside. "He could drag me anywhere anyway" a fan sighs as the door closes. I groan and shake my head as he pulls me to a smoking shelter.
"Could you, like, smoke faster?" I ask, rubbing my bare arms and dancing from left foot to right. He smirks at me before taking a long, slow drag from his cigarette. "I'll see you in the room" I huff, starting to walk away. Before I've taken more than 2 steps I'm spun around and forced against the wall. "Damn woman" he growls before dipping his head to mine and kissing me roughly. Wow. He tastes like a mixture of whiskey and cigarettes, and strangely I can't get enough. We moan together as my hands find their way into his unruly hair, pulling, lightly at first, then harder as the kiss gets more frantic. "We, uh, need to get inside" he says, pulling away and grabbing my hand again, pulling me back inside the hotel and straight to the elevators. His hand finds its way to my ass as we wait, listening to the chatter behind us. "I've already tweeted out that he's got a wife" someone says. "Waiting to hear if anyone else knows anything about it, I mean, she's clearly not american so where did they meet?" "I still don't believe it" another one says. "We would have heard by now if this was legit." "Not really" yet another pipes up. "Everyone is too concerned about him screwing Renee, nobody even though that he'd have someone else hidden away." I smirk. "You need to stop hiding me away Mr Good" I say, loud enough for them to hear, as the elevator door opens. He smirks and pulls me inside, wrapping his arms around me as the doors slowly close. "Consider yourself well and truly in the public eye" he says, dipping his head and kissing me again.
I don't remember getting out of the elevator, or into the room. He hasn't let me go, we've hardly broken the kiss. He kicks the door shut behind us and leads me to the sofa. That's where the kiss finally gets broken, the bottle of Jack remembered. "So?" I ask, sitting on the sofa and curling my feet underneath me as he pours us a drink. "Fans huh? What exactly do you do? And who is this Renee chick you're screwing?" He's about to answer when there's a bang at the door. "Ambrose!" a voice yells. "Quit screwing your wife and open the door!" He winks at me quickly. "Play along?" he whispers, practically begging. I nod slowly, wondering what I've got myself in to. He quickly makes his way to the bed and sits on it, bouncing so it squeaks. "Fuck off Rollins!" he yells. "Oh fuck! Damn that feels so good! Fuck me! Yes!" I cover my mouth so I don't laugh out loud. He is way too good at faking it. He looks at me pointedly and I know it's my turn. "Oh yes" I moan, frowning at him. He winks before moaning. "Fuck I'm close. I'm coming, oh fuck yes! Don't stop! Fuck!" He looks over at me, groaning when he realises I've opened the door and let his friend in. "You deserve an oscar for that performance Ambrose" he says, slumping on the sofa. "The girls in the room next door were going wild for that, I'm sure they got it on video or something. Congrats honey, you're about to be famous as the girl who got Ambrose to scream during sex." I shrug. "I'm his wife" I say, glancing across at him. "That's my job."