Beautiful Player
Page 52
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“What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of where I sat, perched on a fire hydrant.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. I reached for her, pulling her closer and spreading my hands over her hips.
She winced a little when I squeezed—what the f**k is going on with me?—but instead of stepping away, she leaned closer. “Will.”
“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking up at her face. She was f**king beautiful. She’d put on the smallest amount of makeup, had let her hair dry in soft, loose curls. Her eyes were heavy with the same look I’d seen when I’d been braced over her on the floor of my living room, or when I’d slid my fingers over the soft rise of her clit. When my attention focused on her mouth, her tongue peeked out, wetting her lips.
“I really need to know why you’re here.”
Shrugging, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against her collarbone. “I wasn’t sure you were really into him, and it was bothering me knowing he came back here with you.”
She slid her fingers under the collar of my jacket, stroking the back of my neck. “I think Dylan thought we were going to have sex tonight.”
Without meaning to, I dug my fingers deeper into the flesh just above her hips. “I’m sure he did,” I mumbled.
“But . . . and I don’t know how to handle this, because it should be easy, right? It should be easy to enjoy being with people I like. I mean, I find him attractive. I have fun with him! He’s nice, and thoughtful. He’s funny, and he’s good-looking.”
I remained silent, trying not to howl.
“But when he kissed me? I didn’t feel lost in him the way I get lost in you.”
Pulling back, I looked up at her face. She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. “He was nice to me tonight,” she whispered.
“Good.”
“And he didn’t even seem mad when I asked him to go.”
“Good, Hanna. If he gave you grief I swear to God—”
“Will.”
I closed my mouth, calmed by her interruption, and waiting to hear what she needed. I would do anything she wanted, even if she asked me to crawl. If she asked me to leave, I would. If she asked me to help her zip her jacket, I’d do that, too.
“Come upstairs with me?”
My heart climbed into my throat. I watched her for a few seconds more, but she didn’t take it back by breaking eye contact, or laughing at herself. She just studied me, waiting for my answer. I stood, and she moved back to give me space, but not too much space, because I was almost pressed against her once I was upright. She ran her hands down my sides, letting them come to rest on my hips.
“If I go up with you . . .” I started.
She was already nodding. “I know.”
“I don’t know if I can be slow.”
Her eyes darkened and she pressed against me. “I know.”
A light was out on one side of the elevator, casting the space in a strange half shadow. Hanna leaned into the corner, watching me from where she stood at the dark end.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. Always such a little scientist, trying to dissect me.
I was thinking everything: wanting everything, and panicking, wondering if I was cutting the last thread of control I had over my emotions. I was thinking about what I was going to do to this woman when we got up to her bed. “A lot of things.”
Even in the shadows, I could see her smile. “You want to be more specific?”
“I don’t like that that guy came up to your apartment tonight.”
She tilted her head, assessing me. “I thought that was part of dating. Sometimes guys will come up to my apartment.”
“I get that,” I murmured. “But you did ask what I was thinking. I’m telling you.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“I’m sure he is. He can be a nice guy who doesn’t get to kiss you.”
She stood up a little straighter. “Are you jealous?”
I stared at her, nodded.
“Of Dylan?”
“I don’t relish the thought of anyone else having you.”
“But all this time you’re still seeing Kitty and Kristy.”
I didn’t bother to correct her yet. “What were you thinking when you were with him tonight?”
Her smile faded a little. “I was mostly thinking about you. Wondering if you were with someone.”
“I wasn’t with anyone tonight.”
This seemed to throw her and she fell silent for what felt like forever. We reached her floor, the doors opened, hovered, and then closed with a small ding. The elevator car fell quiet and wouldn’t move again until it was called.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. I reached for her, pulling her closer and spreading my hands over her hips.
She winced a little when I squeezed—what the f**k is going on with me?—but instead of stepping away, she leaned closer. “Will.”
“Yeah?” I asked, finally looking up at her face. She was f**king beautiful. She’d put on the smallest amount of makeup, had let her hair dry in soft, loose curls. Her eyes were heavy with the same look I’d seen when I’d been braced over her on the floor of my living room, or when I’d slid my fingers over the soft rise of her clit. When my attention focused on her mouth, her tongue peeked out, wetting her lips.
“I really need to know why you’re here.”
Shrugging, I leaned forward, resting my forehead against her collarbone. “I wasn’t sure you were really into him, and it was bothering me knowing he came back here with you.”
She slid her fingers under the collar of my jacket, stroking the back of my neck. “I think Dylan thought we were going to have sex tonight.”
Without meaning to, I dug my fingers deeper into the flesh just above her hips. “I’m sure he did,” I mumbled.
“But . . . and I don’t know how to handle this, because it should be easy, right? It should be easy to enjoy being with people I like. I mean, I find him attractive. I have fun with him! He’s nice, and thoughtful. He’s funny, and he’s good-looking.”
I remained silent, trying not to howl.
“But when he kissed me? I didn’t feel lost in him the way I get lost in you.”
Pulling back, I looked up at her face. She shrugged, looking almost apologetic. “He was nice to me tonight,” she whispered.
“Good.”
“And he didn’t even seem mad when I asked him to go.”
“Good, Hanna. If he gave you grief I swear to God—”
“Will.”
I closed my mouth, calmed by her interruption, and waiting to hear what she needed. I would do anything she wanted, even if she asked me to crawl. If she asked me to leave, I would. If she asked me to help her zip her jacket, I’d do that, too.
“Come upstairs with me?”
My heart climbed into my throat. I watched her for a few seconds more, but she didn’t take it back by breaking eye contact, or laughing at herself. She just studied me, waiting for my answer. I stood, and she moved back to give me space, but not too much space, because I was almost pressed against her once I was upright. She ran her hands down my sides, letting them come to rest on my hips.
“If I go up with you . . .” I started.
She was already nodding. “I know.”
“I don’t know if I can be slow.”
Her eyes darkened and she pressed against me. “I know.”
A light was out on one side of the elevator, casting the space in a strange half shadow. Hanna leaned into the corner, watching me from where she stood at the dark end.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. Always such a little scientist, trying to dissect me.
I was thinking everything: wanting everything, and panicking, wondering if I was cutting the last thread of control I had over my emotions. I was thinking about what I was going to do to this woman when we got up to her bed. “A lot of things.”
Even in the shadows, I could see her smile. “You want to be more specific?”
“I don’t like that that guy came up to your apartment tonight.”
She tilted her head, assessing me. “I thought that was part of dating. Sometimes guys will come up to my apartment.”
“I get that,” I murmured. “But you did ask what I was thinking. I’m telling you.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“I’m sure he is. He can be a nice guy who doesn’t get to kiss you.”
She stood up a little straighter. “Are you jealous?”
I stared at her, nodded.
“Of Dylan?”
“I don’t relish the thought of anyone else having you.”
“But all this time you’re still seeing Kitty and Kristy.”
I didn’t bother to correct her yet. “What were you thinking when you were with him tonight?”
Her smile faded a little. “I was mostly thinking about you. Wondering if you were with someone.”
“I wasn’t with anyone tonight.”
This seemed to throw her and she fell silent for what felt like forever. We reached her floor, the doors opened, hovered, and then closed with a small ding. The elevator car fell quiet and wouldn’t move again until it was called.
