The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) (44 page)

Absently, I stroke her hair. The wild curls are thick silk, springing around my fingers with a life of their own. The mass of dark red is so dense that I can only concentrate on a section. I let myself indulge; I’ve wanted to touch her hair like this for ages.

“You’re going to make me look like a clown,” she says quietly, but she’s not moving.

“Do you want me to stop?” The strands rub along my skin with pleasurable friction.

“No.” Her lids flutter. “Never.”

Which is fine by me. My favorite girl and my favorite show. Sometimes life is good. It gets better when Anna smiles as the show starts. “
Top Gear
. Excellent.”

“You like
Top Gear
?” I continue to run my fingers through her hair.

Her mouth curls, which pushes her plump upper lip out in that upside down pout that makes me insane. “Yeah,” She turns her head slightly to glance up at me. “Is that so surprising?”

“Kind of.” I shrug. “I haven’t met a girl who has before you.”

“Mmm.” Green eyes narrow, but they’re still warm and relaxed, amused. “What in our acquaintance makes you think I’m anything like the girls you’ve known?”

Softly, I laugh. I’m warm all over now. “Good point.”

She snuggles down deeper into my lap; I love the sensation, love feeling like I’m protecting her by providing her a place to rest. “So let me guess,” I say. “George turned you on to it?”

“Actually, it was Iris.”

The leather squeaks as she turns on her back, her head now fully cradled in my crotch, which has the expected effect on my dick. It stirs, and I will the horny bastard down. If she notices, she isn’t saying anything. Instead, she looks up at me with wide, green eyes the color of holly leaves.

“Ewan McGregor was a guest star on one episode, so Iris had to watch.”

“His documentary
The Long Way Down
was great.”

Anna’s eyes glint. “Where do you think I got the desire to by my little Vespa?”

Inwardly, I groan for the woman who appreciates all things automotive.

Then she shrugs, not meeting my eyes, as if she’s shy. “I used to fantasize about doing something like that.”

“What? Getting on a motorcycle and just riding off?”

Maybe I’ll do the same thing. Take Anna with me. As soon as this fucking leg heals. Panic touches the edges of my mind with black fingers. Her light laugh brings me back.

“Not quite.” Her hair pools against her shoulder as she turns toward me. “I used to think about how fun it would be to document something like that, you know?” She laughs again, an uncomfortable sound. “Or maybe it was the idea of following Ewan McGregor around.”

I play with one of her red curls. “Bet you’d kick ass at film production.”

Anna’s cheeks pink. “I don’t know anything about film.”

“So you learn. We all start off ignorant.”

She shrugs again. “Maybe.”

I place my palm against her cheek. “Babe, whatever you set your mind to doing, you’ll nail it. You’re so perfect and you don’t even know it.”

“Pish.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re forgetting that I can’t stand watching sports.”

I haven’t forgotten a thing. Unease settles over my shoulders, but I shrug it off. I don’t want to think about why we’d broken up, but it’s there, and it will need to be addressed, but not now when I’m finally relaxed.

“What I don’t get is Iris,” I say instead. “Ewan McGregor, really? I pegged her as more a lover of boy band types.”

The corners of those gorgeous eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Iris loves boy bands. But she has a major thing for blond guys.”

“But that guy she was with… Henry, right?”

Anna’s head moves against my cock as she nods, and I repress the urge to squirm.

“She’s back with him. The idiot.”

“Henry or Iris?” I quip, but it bothers me how we’ve missed out on each other’s lives.

“Both?” she offers.

I can’t help but smile at her disgruntled look. “Henry has dark hair,” I point out.

“Yeah, well,” she says with a frown, “I keep waiting for her to realize she’s going against type.”

Her cheek is silken against my fingertips. I stroke along her temple and then trace the curved arch of her brow. And she simply watches me as if she takes pleasure in the act. Her breathing is soft and steady, her body warm where it meets mine.

The bruised area around my heart begins to ache. The sack, the leg break, all of it has left me unsettled and just touching her, just lounging here with her like this affects me. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to bury myself so deep inside of Anna that I’ll forget my name. A lump fills my throat, and I let my palm rest against her cheek. Fucking fluctuating emotions. The doc warned me about them. But, hell, at this rate, I’m going to be a wreck by the end of the week.

“And what’s your type?” I find myself asking. Part of me curses myself for looking weak and needy. But, fuck it, the other part of me
is
needy. I know why I left. I don’t truly know why she came back.

Her eyes darken as she searches my face, as if she knows I’m no longer teasing. It’s too quiet between us, the sound of the TV blaring in the background. Slowly, she reaches up and runs her fingers along my jaw. Her expression changes, opening. Fear, I can see it flickering in her green irises, but something more, something that makes my insides clench.

“You are.” Her voice is low and smoky. But her touch grows stronger as she wraps her fingers around the base of my throat where my pulse is beating hard. Her chin lifts, stubborn, sure. “You are the only one I want, Drew. In all things.”

Nothing can stop me from slipping my arm under her shoulders and pulling her up to me. Her lips are soft and yielding, but I haven’t truly kissed her in so long that it hits me like a punch to the gut. I suck in a sharp breath, stealing one of hers, and angle my mouth to go deeper. Her tongue slides against mine, and I’m dizzy. I feel like I’m falling into her. My abs tense on a shudder, but I can’t stop the kiss. I need more. Always more.

And she’s giving it to me, kissing me back with the same need. I’m happy to give her anything she wants, but when I move to bring her further into my lap, a sharp pain shoots through my leg. It’s enough for me to draw back and take a breath. But I don’t let her go.

Her fingers run through my hair, as I cup her cheek and hold her close. For a long moment we just breathe, and then I find the strength to talk. “I’ve missed you.”

Her lips tickle the corner of mine. “I’ve missed you too. So much it hurt.”

I shouldn’t feel satisfaction, but I do. Not that I want her to hurt. In fact, nothing would please me more than to bring her pleasure. Right now would be nice. Lying here on the couch is no longer enough. If I had the strength, I’d pick her up and carry her into my room. But I can’t, which sucks. I need help getting there. While I’d ordinarily hate asking for help, this is Anna, which makes all the difference. If any guy tells you that he doesn’t like the woman he’s gone over taking care of him when he’s hurting, he’s probably lying.

“Take me to bed,” I whisper against her cheek.

“Or lose you forever?” There’s a smile in her voice.

I grin, slow and wide. “Did you just quote
Top Gun
to me?”

“Maybe.”

This girl. Jesus, she does it for me.

All those luscious curves move at once and she’s up, reaching for my crutches. I hate the sight of them, hate the way that my leg throbs, that I am helpless. But I push it all aside because she’s here. I’m not alone, and I don’t care if I have to down five painkillers, I’m having her tonight.

DESPITE THE FACT that he’s on crutches, Drew makes short work of getting into his room. A familiar gleam is in his eyes, one that makes me go all hot and fluttery inside. Though I have my concerns about having sex with him right now. He’s got to be hurting. Inadvertently jostling his leg and injuring him further is the last thing I want to do. Then again, kissing him on the couch has me so worked up, I know that if he touches me all my good intentions will topple like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.

Drew reaches the center of the room before he stops. I cleaned here too, and though I don’t think he minds, part of me still cringes. I took over his house with impunity, making myself at home before we’ve even settled things. At the time, I pushed this all aside in favor of assuring his comfort, but he’s here now, seeing what I’ve done.

His golden eyes find mine and they’re smiling, soft and tender. “My mom used to give me fresh sheets when I was sick. It always felt good to slide into a clean bed.” His mouth quirks. “I’m not saying I think of you like my mom, just that… well, I appreciate it.”

Now I’m blushing. “My mom did that too. Maybe it’s a mom thing.”

He holds my gaze. “If you’re ever sick, I promise to change the sheets for you.”

Warmth floods my veins. One small statement, promising a future.

He heads to the bathroom. “I’m dying for a shower. I swear to God, I stink like hospital.”

“Just a little,” I tease, following. I’ve got the room set up for this eventuality.

Drew’s bathroom is gorgeous. Heated floors of a dark, distressed wood, white and blue glass tiles, and a massive walk-in shower encased in frosted-glass panels, the space resembles a luxury spa. A white bowl sink rests on a teak cabinet base. He lays his crutches there as he reaches in to turn on his shower, and water falls from the big, rain showerhead. Almost instantly, the air begins to grow sultry and humid.

His eyes glint again as he turns. “Gonna join me, Jones?” He wags his brows like a stage villain before tugging his shirt over his head. Good God, but I’m never going to get over the splendor that is his chest, or the way those taut muscles move and flow beneath his honeyed skin.

“Not today.” My voice is unsteady, as I fight off a picture of his chest all wet and glistening, of running my tongue along the groove in his abdomen, right down the happy trail of dark hair that leads to his thick—

“Spoil sport.” He sighs. “Though I’m guessing we’d end up on our asses when I’m in this condition.”

Blinking rapidly to clear my dirty mind, I reach over and grab the garbage bag and surgical tape I’ve set on a shelf. “Speaking of…” I hold them up and give his leg a pointed look. While the doctor said Drew could get his cast wet, it will take hours to dry off and won’t be comfortable for him.

“Kinky.” Keeping his eyes on mine, he hooks his thumbs on the waist of his shorts and eases them off, revealing those long, strong legs of his and the weighty cock that has brought me so many hours of pleasure. I swallow hard. I’ve missed this part of him too. He’s already growing thicker, his cock curving as it begins to rise under my stare.

With effort I raise my gaze up to his face, which is currently wearing a smug yet hot expression. I give him a level look. “Behave.”

“What?” He’s all innocence. “I’m taking a shower here, Jones. Kind of have to get naked to do that.”

“Whatever.” And because I can be a tease too, I kneel down before him, my face inches from the heat of his cock. It twitches, the musky scent of him filling my nostrils. I look up at him, my smile sweet. “Lift your leg.”

A pulse visibly beats at the base of his throat as he gazes down at me. Slowly he lifts his cast-covered leg an inch. The garbage bag rustles as I ease it under his foot and begin to pull it over him. Drew’s flat abdomen lifts and falls in a steady, quick cadence.

His leg is so long, the bag barely makes it to the top of the cast. With quick movements, I wrap the ends up with surgical tape, not missing the way his cock is now standing proud and waiting. Longing fills me. I know how he will taste, salty and sweet, how he will feel against my tongue, heavy and firm. Instead, I look into his eyes. “There now, all set.”

Drew swallows audibly, his hips canting just a bit as if he can’t help it.

“You love torturing me, don’t you?” His voice is a husky whisper, barely heard over the steady rush of the shower.

I lick my dry lips, noting the way his breath catches as I do. “It’s only fair, you know.”

“Why is that, Jones?” But he knows. I can see it in his eyes, those fuck me eyes that both challenge and make promises.