Beautiful Player

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 f**king 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 f**k 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 c*ck 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 br**sts, 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 na?ve. 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.With coffee and snacks for the road in hand, I made the rounds and said my goodbyes. My family was scattered all over the house, but the only two I couldn’t seem to find were my brother and my ride.

I headed out front to check the car, the gravel path crunching beneath my feet. I neared the garage and stopped as voices filtered out through the cool morning air, above the birds and the creaking of the trees overhead.

“I’m just wondering what’s going on between you two,” I heard my brother say.

“Nothing,” Will said. “We’re just hanging out. Per your request, I might add.”

I frowned, remembering that old saying about not eavesdropping because you probably won’t like what you hear.

“Is ‘hanging out’ code for something?” Jensen asked. “You seem awfully familiar with her.”

Will started to speak but paused, and I stepped back a bit to make sure my long shadow wouldn’t be visible to anyone standing in the garage.

“I am seeing a few people,” Will started, and I could just picture him scratching his jaw. “But no, Ziggy isn’t one of them. She’s just a good friend.”

I felt like I’d been dropped in ice water, goose bumps spreading along my skin and despite knowing he was just following the rules we’d agreed on, my stomach dropped.

Will went on: “Actually, I am . . . interested in exploring something more with one of the women I’m seeing.” My heart started to hammer, and I was tempted to step forward, and keep him from saying too much. But then he added, “So I feel like I should end it with the other women I’m seeing. I think for the first time I might want more . . . but this girl has been cagey, and it’s been hard to take that extra step and just cut off the old routine, you know?”

My arms felt like limp noodles and I leaned against the gate, steadying myself. My brother said something in reply, but I wasn’t really listening anymore.To say the atmosphere in the car was merely tense was laughable. We’d been on the road for almost an hour and I’d barely strung together more than two words at a time.

Are you hungry?

No.

Temperature okay? Too warm? Too cold?

It’s fine.

Could you put this into the GPS?

Sure.

Mind if we stop for a bathroom break?

Okay.

The worst part was that I was pretty sure I was being bratty and unfair. With what Will said to Jensen, he was only following the rules that I’d put out there. I’d never really expected him to be exclusive before last night.

Open your mouth, Hanna. Tell him what you want.

“You okay over there?” he asked, ducking briefly to catch my eyes. “You’re being awfully monosyllabic.”

I turned and watched his profile as he drove: his stubbly jaw, his lips curled up in a smile just knowing I was staring at him. He let his eyes dart my way a couple of times, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. It was so much more than sex. He was my best friend. He was the one I wanted to call boyfriend.

The idea of him being with other women this whole time made me faintly nauseous. I was pretty sure that, after this weekend, he wouldn’t be with them again since—Jesus—we’d had sex without a condom. If that didn’t warrant a serious discussion, I didn’t know what did.