Chapter Twelve

~Brad~

I’M PATHETIC.

I’ve spent all evening doing my best to stay busy, waiting for Hannah to ring the doorbell, trying to keep my mind off of her and on other things. I paid bills, I finished hanging some cabinets in my garage, and I gave Sadie a bath.

Much to her dismay.

I’ve had music playing through the house as I putter around, pretending that I’m not thinking about Hannah and her beautiful blue eyes. Her perfect skin. The way she laughs when we’re being silly, or the way she moans when I’m making her crazy.

But as soon as I’m distracted by something, my mind wanders back to her, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing and why in the hell she’s not here yet.

Just as I finish folding a load of laundry, there’s a knock on the front door. I grin and hurry over, swing it open, and standing before me is Hannah.

Soaking wet.

Covered in glitter.

A black eye.

Anger, swift and hot, surges through me, but before I can ask who the hell did this to her, she smiles brightly and says, “Oh my God, I had so much fun.”

She walks past me into the living room, drops her shopping bags and purse on my couch, and greets an excited Sadie, giving the dog pets and kisses, transferring the glitter to the clean animal.

“Hannah.”

“Yeah?” She swings around to look at me. “Oh, sorry. I should have done this first.”

She launches herself in my arms and kisses me soundly, twisting her fingers in the hair at the back of my neck.

“You smell good,” she murmurs.

“You… don’t.” I laugh and set her down. “Have you been drinking?”

“Oh yeah,” she replies with a snort. “I didn’t have to work, so I had some wine.”

“And you drove here?”

She immediately scowls. “Hell no, I don’t have my car. I walked here. I’m not my father.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course.” I’m completely thrown. This is so unlike Hannah, I’m not sure how to react. But she looks happy, so there’s that. “Who the fuck had their hands on you?”

“Huh?”

“The black eye.”

She frowns and feels her face, and then laughs again. “Oh, that was Grace. She likes it rough.” She snorts again, dissolving in laughter. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“I can’t believe Jenna let you walk here,” I mutter, but Hannah shakes her head.

“I insisted. It felt good.” She shivers. “But now I’m getting cold.”

“You need a hot shower.” I take her hand and lead her into my bathroom. I turn on the water to heat up, then turn to her and have the pleasure of stripping her bare. “You even have glitter in your navel.”

“Now I don’t have to have it pierced.”

She’s grinning from ear to ear. “I’m glad you had fun, sweetheart.”

“I had more than fun.” She grips onto my shoulders to steady herself as I pull her wet panties down her legs. “I had a blast. We shopped a ton, and I met some new people. How is it that I’ve lived here for five years, and there are still so many people I don’t know?”

I guide her into the shower and shut the glass door, still listening to her talk.

“I should know more people,” she continues. “But I work too much. It feels good to finally feel like I’m part of this community.”

“You are a part of the community.”

“You’re sweet.” She clears the fog from the glass and smiles out at me. “Brad?”

“Yes, Hannah.”

“Can you please come in here and help me wash this glitter off?” She bats her eyelashes, making me grin. “Pretty please?”

I’ll never say no to getting naked with her. Ever.

“If I come in there, it may not stop at washing glitter.”

“Oh good.”

I hurry out of my clothes and join her. “What do you need?”

“Besides you?”

“Yes.” She passes me the washcloth that she’s soaped up.

“I think my back is dirty.” She spins around, and she’s right. There’s glitter everywhere, so I get to work, washing it off, then rinsing the cloth, over and over again until it’s gone. She turns around and points to her breasts, not saying a word. I lather fresh soap on the cloth and wash her chest, her belly and sides, and then she bites her lip and points to her neck.

“I don’t see any glitter there.”

“It’s there,” she replies. Her breathing is faster as I drag the wet cloth over her neck. I push her out of the water and against the wall, and she surprises me by resting her foot up on the bench and points to her inner thigh. “Right there.”

Wordlessly, I wash her inner thighs, up to the crease of her legs, not touching her pussy.

“Brad,” she says.

“Mm hm.”

“Right here.” She points to her center, and I immediately lower to my knees, staring in awe at the beauty of her. Her clit is swollen with desire, as are her lips, and I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my damn life.

Rather than use the washcloth, I lean in and lick her, from pussy to clit and back again, before pulling her lips into my mouth and sucking.

“Harder,” she says, panting. I comply, using my teeth a bit as well, and she’s writhing against the wall as she grabs my hair in a death grip. I push her leg up higher, sure to keep her balanced with my other hand and go to town on her, licking and sucking, biting and nibbling until she cries out in absolute pleasure.

I stand and boost her up against the wall, then push inside her. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Turned on,” she mutters and squeezes herself around me. “You turn me the hell on, Brad Hull.”

I grin against her neck and pound her against the wall, unable to go slow or soft. Slow or soft doesn’t fit our mood tonight. We’re ravenous, and I’m going to take and take until neither of us can stand it anymore.

“Can’t get enough of you.”

“Good.”

She bites my shoulder, and that’s it. I can’t do this against the wall anymore, so I flip off the water, and carry her, dripping wet, to my guest room, lay her down and continue to feast on her. Her tits, her pussy, every bit of her.

And she’s giving it back just as fiercely. Her hips buck, her hands grab, and she’s kissing and biting every piece of flesh she can find.

It’s like we’re crazy animals, unable to stop consuming each other.

I pull out and flip her over, slap her ass, and plunge inside again, fucking her until we’re both crying out, coming hard.

And when we’re done, I carry her back to my bed, tuck us both in and begin again, unable to keep my hands off of her.

“I’m sober now,” she says with a lazy smile and opens up for me beautifully. “And thank goodness. I definitely want to remember this tomorrow.”

***

“We should sleep at some point tonight,” Hannah says a few hours later. We’re in the kitchen, making pancakes.

“You said you’re hungry.”

“I am.” She grins and passes me the eggs. She’s sitting on the counter, wearing one of my CFPD T-shirts, her hair a riot of red. She’s adorable. “But you have to work in the morning.”

“I’ve survived on little sleep before.”

Once the batter is mixed, I set to work pouring it on my skillet. While I wait for it to be ready to flip, I settle between her thighs at the counter and kiss her soundly. “You’re damn gorgeous, Hannah.”

“I must be a mess,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think we got all the glitter off.”

“I’ll be cleaning glitter out of my house for weeks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll bring back happy memories every time.”

She drags her fingertips down my face and her expression is suddenly serious.

“What is it?”

She shakes her head and breaks eye contact, looking at my hair as she runs her fingers through it.

I take her hand in mine and kiss her palm, then lay it against my cheek.

“Talk to me, Han.”

It’s quiet in the house. Dark, aside from the lights under the cabinets, setting the room in a low glow.

“You need to flip the pancakes,” she says and kisses my forehead before I move to the skillet and give them a flip. But before I can return to her, she jumps off the counter and retrieves two plates, the butter, and syrup, and the moment from a few moments ago is lost.

“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” she says.

“These three are ready.”

“Gimme.”

I put the pancakes on her plate and then pour two more for me, and turn to watch her slather butter and syrup all over her middle of the night snack.

“These are so good,” she says after taking a big bite. “Who knew sex could make a girl so hungry?”

“I’d better stock up on pancake mix.”

She winks at me, her mouth full.

“I plan to keep you starving.”

“Right on.”

When mine are finished, I turn off the skillet and join her at the table to eat with her. It’s a simple thing, having an after sex snack with her, but it’s intimate. It makes me feel closer to her.

I glance up in time to see her eyes are heavy.

“I think we’ve finally worn you out.”

She smiles softly. “Yeah. I’m tired.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask when she frowns.

“I have a bit of a headache. I hope I’m not developing migraines.”

I just shake my head and take my last bite. “You drank too much, that’s all.”

“Hmm.”

We put our dishes in the sink and I lead her to my bed, anxious to feel her skin on skin again.

“Why do you always think that something’s wrong?” I ask softly.

She thinks about it for a moment, her eyes closed.

“Because I know too much. About medicine. That’s what Drake says, anyway.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that it’s part of the anxiety. I worry.” She yawns. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this with anyone except Drake, and even he only knows a little of it.”

“I want to know everything about you,” I reply honestly. “Not to judge you, but to learn you.”

“I know. I feel the same.” She turns on her side and looks up at me. “Why does it always feel safer to talk about things in the dark?”

“Because we feel hidden here. Safe.”

“I guess so.” She scoots closer to me and threads her leg through mine. “I’ve always been a worrier. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t. It’s probably a chemical imbalance. The anxiety, I mean. And there are meds I can take, but it’s been there for so long, I’m pretty good at managing it.”

“Hiding it,” I correct her.

“Tomato, tomahto,” she says with a smile. “Either way, I don’t feel like I need medicine. But there are going to be times that I’ll think I’m sick. Or that I have a disease. I’ll always wonder. I’ve asked colleagues to do full body scans before, just to give me peace of mind, but they usually laugh me off.”

“Sweetheart,” I murmur and kiss her forehead. “You’re a strong, healthy woman.”

“I know. The rational side of me knows that. I have no reason to believe otherwise. It’s like the bear thing, or the lake thing the other day. I know better, but I can’t change the thoughts.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. And that’s okay. I’d rather you didn’t understand. But I appreciate you asking and not judging.”

“Can you tell me more about your parents?”

She frowns, but then shrugs. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“You just didn’t say too much, other than your father killed your mother in an accident, and you haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“But that doesn’t give me much information.”

“You could run his record,” she replies.

Oh, I have.

“That’s not personal either,” I remind her.

She sighs. “I honestly don’t think of him. Ever. I know that sounds heartless, but he wasn’t a great father, or even a nice person. At least, not that I remember. I remember him being drunk most of the time. He didn’t work because he couldn’t hold a job. Mom stressed out about money and me and everything else, and he just drank.

“I spent a lot of time with Abby and her parents, or at my friends’ homes. I preferred it, actually. He never hurt me. He didn’t hit me, or yell at me. He ignored me.”

“Sometimes that’s just as bad,” I reply, wanting to wrap her in my arms and protect her.

“I agree. I didn’t really consider him at all, until the accident. I didn’t think of him as dangerous. He was more of a pain in the ass.

“My mom was pretty great. She was soft spoken. I have her hair and eyes, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t know what it would be like to look in the mirror and see him.”

“I’m sure she was beautiful.”

“She was.” She smiles sweetly. “And she made the best cookies. She was a great cook. I didn’t inherit that ability.”

“Too bad.”

She wrinkles her nose in that adorable way she does. “Yeah, too bad. Her name was Vivienne, and she wasn’t even forty when she died.”

“Did she often ride with your dad after he’d been drinking?”

“Not that I know of. They didn’t do much of anything together. I wasn’t home that day. I decided to spend most of the winter break with Abby, and we were having a New Year’s Eve party at her house with some of our friends. Mom had called earlier in the day to say hello and to check in, like she usually did. That’s the last time I spoke to her. I was impatient to get off the phone so I could help decorate for the party.

“At about three in the morning, a few cops came to my aunt and uncle’s house, and they sat us all down and told me that my mom was gone.”

“I’ve had to go on too many of those calls.”

She nods. “It must suck.”

“It does.”

“I miss her. She would have been proud of me, and she probably would have moved to Montana with me.”

“And you never heard from your father after that?”

“Why would I? He never paid attention to me before, there’s no reason that I would after. I didn’t go to the trial. He plead no contest, so his sentence would be more lenient.”

“Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

“You’re welcome. And now we don’t have to talk about it again.”

She yawns and snuggles into me, burying her face in my neck. Before long, she’s breathing with the even, steady breaths of sleep, and I’m still turning the story over in my head. I don’t feel bad for her; she wouldn’t want that. But I wish she’d had a better father in her life.

It’s amazing to me that she’s as healthy as she is, given the circumstances of her childhood.

She’s strong. And brave. And she’s mine.

***

Sadie meets me at the door at lunchtime. I walk inside and find a glassy-eyed Hannah sitting on the couch, staring at nothing in particular. She’s wearing my T-shirt again, and Sadie returns to her side.

“Hi there,” I say, and she looks up at me and offers me a small smile.

“Hi.”

“Are you just waking up?”

“Yeah.” She pets Sadie’s head. “Don’t judge me. I haven’t had a hangover since I was twenty-one.”

“You had a lot of fun last night.”

“Yeah, and then I was up fucking for the rest of it.” Her eyes light up when she sees the coffee in my hand. “Is that for me?”

“Of course.” I pass it to her. “This is too. It’s a breakfast sandwich.”

“You’re really good to me.” She takes a sip of her coffee, closes her eyes, and smiles. “This is nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Were you on time for work this morning?”

“Of course,” I say and scoop her up in my arms, then sit and settle her in my lap. “I’m never late.”

“You were up all night, too.” She sips her coffee and then lays her head on my shoulder. “Should I feel guilty?”

“For what?”

“For your lack of sleep.”

I chuckle and kiss her head, smelling her hair. “No. It’s my own fault for not being able to keep my hands off of you.”

“You always say sweet things. And you do sweet things. You’re just a sweet man, Brad.”

“Don’t let it get out. I have a reputation to protect.”

“Ah yes, your badass Chief Sexypants reputation.”

“Sexywhat?”

“Sexypants. It’s your name when you’re not around.”

I stare down at her in surprise. “That’s what you call me when I’m not around?”

“Only to Jenna and Grace, and not all the time.” She grins and kisses my chin. “Don’t be mad. It’s a complimentary nickname.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s easier to wake up when you’re here rather than by myself.”

“Well, you have me for about twenty more minutes. Then I have to go back to work.”

“Already?”

“It’s noon, Hannah. I can’t take the rest of the day off.”

“What am I going to do all afternoon?”

“Take Sadie for a walk.”

She sips her coffee, giving it thought. “I do need to go get my car.”

“I can drive you to your car.”

“Nah. Sadie and I will walk to get it. I’ll do the walk of shame.” She smiles. “I’ve never done that before.”

“I guess there’s a first for everything.”

She laughs and settles against me, and it feels like heaven to just hold her in my arms for a moment, enjoying the calm.

“How is work today?”

“Busy. There was a home break in last night, and a car accident this morning, with one fatality.”

Her arm squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. So, I’ll be busy this afternoon.”

“What do you have planned for this evening?” she asks.

“I’m open.”

“Good. I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

“We’ve discussed this. I buy dinner.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’d like to go out for dinner.”

“Done.”

“You’re difficult.”

“You just told me yesterday that I’m easy going and steady.”

“Until you’re difficult.”