Beautiful Player (34 page)

It didn’t matter at the time how much I might regret it later.

It had never been like this, ever. Slow. Almost so slow that I wasn’t sure either of us could get there, or that I even cared. Our lips were only millimeters apart, sharing breaths and noises and the whispered pleas to
Feel that? Do you feel that?

I
did
feel it. I felt every one of his stuttering heartbeats under my palm, and the way his shoulders shook above me. I felt the unformed words on his lips, how he seemed to be trying to say something . . . maybe the same something I’d been skirting around since I snuck into his dark room. Even before that.

He didn’t seem to understand what I was asking.

I’d never expected it to be so hard to put myself on the line. We’d made love—what felt like the true meaning of the phrase earlier; his skin, my skin, nothing else between us. He called me Hanna at the dinner table. . . . I don’t think anyone had ever said that name out loud in this house before that. And even though Jensen—Will’s
best friend—was in the other room, Will had stayed with me to do dishes. He’d given me a meaningful look before I headed to bed, and texted me good night, saying,
In case there’s any question, my bedroom door shall remain unlocked.

It seemed like he was mine when we were in a room full of people. But here, alone behind his closed door, it was suddenly so unclear.

Are there others? . . .

I thought that’s what you wanted.

The rule should be that there aren’t other lovers . . .

So we break this rule then?

. . .
Silence.

But what was I expecting? I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms tighter around him as he pulled almost all the way out and then slid slowly back inside, inch by perfect inch, and groaned quietly in my ear.

“So good, Plum.” His hips rolled over me, one hand sliding down my ribs and back up to cup my breast and simply hold it, his thumb sweeping over the tight peak.

I loved the deep, molten sounds of his pleasure, and it helped distract me from the truth that he hadn’t given me the words I’d wanted tonight. I’d wanted him to say,
There are no other women anymore.
I’d wanted him to say,
Now that we’re doing this without protection, we don’t break that rule, ever.

But he’d been the one to open this conversation before, only to have me shut it closed. Was it true that he really wasn’t interested in being more than friends-who-fuck? Or
was he unwilling to be the one to start the conversation again? And why was I being so
passive
? It was as if my fear of messing things up with him had stolen all of my words.

He arched his neck back, groaning quietly as he slid in and out of me, achingly slow. I closed my eyes, pressing my teeth into his neck, biting down, giving him every bit of pleasure I could think. I wanted him to want me so much that it didn’t matter that I was inexperienced or unsure. I wanted to find a way to erase the memory of every woman who came before me. I wanted to feel—to
know
—that he belonged to me.

I wondered for a sharp, painful beat how many other women had thought the exact same thing.

I want to feel like you’re mine.
I pushed on his chest so he had to roll off me and I could climb over him. I’d never been on top with Will, not for sex, and looked down at him, feeling unsure, guiding his hands to my hips. “I’ve never done this.”

He gripped his base with one hand and guided me over him, grunting as I sunk down. “Just find what feels good,” he murmured, watching me. “This is where you get to drive.”

I closed my eyes, trying different things and struggling to not feel foolish in my inexperience. I was so hyperaware of this earnest feeling pulling my ribs tight, I wondered if I moved differently, more clunky, less carefree and sexy. I had no idea if it felt good to him.

“Show me,” I whispered. “I feel like I’m doing it wrong.”

“You’re perfect, are you fucking kidding?” he mumbled into my neck. “I want to last all night.”

I grew sweaty, not from exertion but from being so wound up I thought I might burst from my skin. The bed was old and squeaky; we couldn’t move the way we were used to—roughly for hours and using the entire mattress and frame and pillows. Before I realized what was happening, Will lifted me off him, carried me to the floor, and sat up beneath me so I could lower myself back onto him. He went so much deeper this way; he was so hard I could feel the press of him in some unknown, tender place. His open mouth moved across my chest and he ducked his head to suck and blow on my nipple.

“Just
fuck
me,” he growled. “Down here you won’t have to worry about the noise.”

He thought I was worried about the creaky bed frame. I closed my eyes, rocking self-consciously, and just when I thought I would stop, tell him this position wasn’t working for me, tell him I was choking on words and unanswered questions, he kissed my jaw, my cheek, my lips and whispered, “Where are you right now? Come back to me.”

I stilled over him and rested my forehead on his shoulder. “I’m thinking too much.”

“What about?”

“I’m nervous all of a sudden, and I just feel like you’re mine only for these little bits of time. I guess I don’t like that as much as I thought I would.”

He slid his finger under my chin and tilted my face up so I had to look at him. His mouth pressed against mine, once, before he told me, “I’ll be yours every second if that’s what you want. You just have to tell me, Plum.”

“Don’t break me, okay?”

Even in the darkness I could see his brows pull together. “You said that before. Why do you think I would break you? Do you think I even
could
?” His voice sounded so pained, it plucked at something raw and taut in me, too.

“I think you
could
. Even if you didn’t want to, I think you could now.”

He sighed, pressing his face into my neck. “Why won’t you give me what I want?”

“What
do
you want?” I asked, shifting so that my knees were more comfortable, but in the process, I slid up his cock and back down. He stilled me with forceful hands on my hips.

“I can’t think when you’re doing that.” Taking several deep breaths, he whispered, “I just want
you
.”

“So . . .” I whispered, running my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are there going to be others?”

“I think
you
need to tell
me
that, Hanna.”

I closed my eyes, wondering if that would be good enough. I could tell him I wouldn’t date anyone else, and I imagined he would agree to the same. But I didn’t
want
it to be up to me. If Will was going to do this, to be with one person, it had to be something that wasn’t negotiable for him—it had to be him wanting to call it off with
the others because of how he felt for
me
. It couldn’t be some loose decision, a maybe-maybe-not, a whatever-you-decide.

His mouth found mine then, and he gave me the sweetest, most gentle kiss I’d ever felt from him. “I told you I wanted to try,” he whispered. “You were the one who said you thought it wouldn’t work. You know who I am; you
know
I want to be different for you.”

“I want it, too.”

“Okay then.” He kissed me and our pace started again, small thrusts from him beneath me, tiny circles from me on top. His exhales were my inhales; his teeth slid deliciously over my lips.

I’d never felt so close to another human in my life. His hands were everywhere: my breasts, my face, my thighs, my hips, between my legs. His voice rumbled low and encouraging in my ear, telling me how good I felt, how close he was, how he needed this so much he felt like he worked every day just to get back to me. He told me being with me felt like being home.

And when I fell, I didn’t care whether I was awkward or jagged, whether I was inexperienced or naïve. I cared only that his lips were pressed firmly to my neck and his arms were wrapped around me so tight the only way I could move was closer to him.

“You ready?” Will asked Sunday afternoon, slipping into my bedroom and pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. The
majority of the morning had played out this way: a covert kiss in an empty hallway, a rushed grope session in the kitchen.

“Almost. Just packing a few things Mom is sending home with me.” I felt his arms fold solid around my waist and I leaned back, melting into him. I’d never noticed how much Will touched me until he couldn’t do it freely. He’d always been tactile—small brushes of his fingers, a hand lingering at my hip, his shoulder bumping against mine—but I’d grown so used to it, so comfortable, I hardly noticed anymore. This weekend I’d felt the loss of every one of those small moments, and now I couldn’t get enough. I was already debating how many miles we’d need to put between the car and this place before I could tell him to pull over and make good on his offer to take me in the backseat.

He pushed my ponytail out of the way as his lips moved along my neck, stopping just below my ear. I heard the tinkling of his keys in his hand, felt the cool metal against my stomach where my shirt had ridden up the tiniest bit.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “I think Jensen’s been trying to corner me since brunch and I don’t really have a death wish.”

His words cooled my blood and I stepped away, reaching for a shirt on the opposite side of the bed. “Sounds like pretty standard Jensen,” I murmured with a shrug. I knew it would be weird for my oldest brother—hell, it would be weird for Will and me, too, when the family knew about us—but all morning long I’d been replaying
the previous night in the guest room. I wanted to ask him in the light of day:
did you really mean it when you said you wanted only me?
Because I was finally ready to take the leap.

I zipped my bag, started to lug it off the bed.

He reached around my body, grabbing the handle. “Can I take that?”

I felt the heat of him, the scent of his shampoo. When he straightened he didn’t step away, didn’t move to put distance between us. I closed my eyes, felt myself grow dizzy with how his proximity seemed to suck all the air out of the room. He tilted my chin and pressed his lips to mine, just a slow, lingering touch and I moved toward him, chasing the kiss.

He smiled. “Let me get this stuff in the car and we’ll get out of here, okay?”

“Okay.”

He brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “We’ll be home soon,” he whispered. “And I’m not going to my apartment.”

“Okay,” I said again, legs shaking.

He grinned, lifted the bag, and I watched, barely able to stand, as he left the room.

Going downstairs, I found my sister in the kitchen.

“Leaving?” Liv asked, rounding the counter to hug me.

I leaned into her, nodding. “Is Will already outside?” I glanced out the kitchen window but didn’t see him. I was anxious to get on the road, to say everything in the light of day where it couldn’t be ignored.

“Think he went out back to say goodbye to Jens,” she said, walking back to the bowl of berries she’d been rinsing. “You two sure are cute together.”

“What? No.” Cookies cooled on the counter and I reached for a handful, tucking them away in brown paper sack. “I told you, it’s not like that, Liv.”

“Say what you want, Hanna. That boy is smitten. Frankly, I’d be surprised if I’m the only one who’s noticed.”

Beginning to feel warm, I shook my head. Pulling two Styrofoam cups from the cupboard, I filled them with coffee from a huge stainless steel carafe, adding sugar and cream to mine and cream only to Will’s. “I think pregnancy’s mottled your brain. That’s not what this is about.” My sister wasn’t an idiot; I’m sure she heard the lie in my voice as plainly as I had.

“Maybe not for you,” she said with a skeptical shake of her head. “Though I don’t really buy that one, either.”

I stared blankly out the back window. I knew where Will and I stood . . . at least I thought I did. Things had shifted over the past few days and now I was eager to define this relationship. I’d been so afraid to give it limits because I thought I wanted more room to breathe. I thought it would upset me to hear how he slotted me into his schedule as conveniently as he did other women. Lately, my desire to avoid the conversation felt more about keeping my own heart caged than about how free he was with his. But it was a useless exercise. I knew we needed to have the full conversation now—the one
he’d tried to have before. The one we’d touched on last night.

I would need to put myself out there, take a risk. It was time.

A door shut loudly somewhere and I jumped, blinking back to the coffee I was still stirring. Liv touched my shoulder. “I have to be big sister for just one minute, though. Be careful, okay?” she said. “This is the infamous Will Sumner we’re talking about.”

And that, right there, was reason number one I was terrified I was making a mistake.