Beautiful Player (Beautiful Bastard 3)

“How’s the wedding planning going?” I asked.

“You know, Will,” she said, wearing a sly smile. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever asked about the wedding.”

“I spent four days in Vegas with these sad bastards.” I nodded to Bennett and Max. “It’s not like I don’t know it’s happening. Do you want me to tie ribbons on the flower arrangements or some shit?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “And the planning is going . . . fine.”

“Mostly,” Bennett muttered.

“Mostly,” Chloe agreed. They shared a knowing look and she started laughing again, leaning into his shoulder.

“What does that mean?” Sara asked. “Is this about the caterer again?”

“No,” Bennett said, before taking a sip of his beer. “The caterer is settled.”

“Thank God,” Chloe interjected.

Bennett continued, “It’s just unbelievable the things that families do around weddings. All kinds of drama comes out of the woodwork. Swear to God, if we manage to pull this off without a quadruple homicide we will both deserve a f**king medal.”

Reflexively, I gripped Hanna’s hand tighter.

After a small pause, she squeezed back, turning to look at me. Her eyes searched mine, and then lightened into a little smile.

I was thinking about her, and me. I was thinking about her family, and how, over the past twelve years, they’d become my surrogate east coast family, and how in this tiny desperate breath I could even see this future—falling in love, getting married, deciding to start a family—for myself down the road.

I released her hand rubbing my palm on my thigh and feeling my pulse explode in my neck. Holy fuck, what happened to my life? In only a couple of months, almost everything had changed.

Well, not everything. My friends were still the same, my finances were fine. I still ran (almost) daily, still caught basketball on TV whenever I could. But . . .

I’d fallen in love. How often does anyone see that coming?

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I whispered. “Just . . .” I couldn’t say anything. We’d agreed on just-friends. I’d told her it was what I wanted, too. “It’s just crazy to see friends going through this,” I said, gesturing to Chloe and Bennett, covering myself up that way. “I totally can’t relate.”

And with that, everyone was looking back to us, eyes soft and f**king invested in every single look or touch that passed between me and Hanna. I glared at each of them quickly and then stood. My chair squeaked across the floor, making my awkwardness even more evident. I was okay with being the center of attention within this group, whether I was teasing one of them or the other way around. But this felt different. I could laugh off the jokes about my scheduled hookups or colorful past with women, but right now I felt f**king vulnerable in this new place with Hanna, and wasn’t used to being on this side of the knowing looks.

I wiped my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans. “Let’s . . . I don’t know.” I looked around the bar helplessly. We should have just stayed on my couch, maybe f**ked again out there in my living room. We should have stayed put until things were slightly less up in the air between us.

Hanna looked up at me, amused expression in place. “Let’s . . . ?”

“Let’s dance.”

I jerked her out of her chair and out to the empty dance floor, realizing when we got there that it would be even worse than what I was escaping. I’d taken us from the pack-safety of the table and onto what was essentially a stage. She stepped close to me, pulling my arms around her waist and running her hands up my chest and into my hair.

“Breathe, Will.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I’d never felt more awkward in my life. Come to think of it, I’d never really felt awkward at all before.

“You’re a mess,” she said, laughing into my ear when I pulled her close. “I’ve never seen you so discombobulated. I have to admit, it’s really kind of cute.”

“It’s been a really f**king weird day.”

Maddie was playing some mellow indie shit, and this particular song was only instrumental. It was sweet, almost a little melancholy, but just the right speed for the kind of dancing I wanted to do with Hanna: slow, pressing. The kind of dancing where I could pretend to dance but really just stand and hug her for a few minutes away from the table.

On a slow spin, I turned and could see that my friends weren’t even looking at us anymore; they had returned to their conversation. Chloe was speaking animatedly about something, arms flapping above her head and I was almost positive she was reenacting some wedding-related fiasco. Now that the weird Will Inspection moment had cleared, I was torn between staying put, here with Hanna, and heading back to the table so I could be kept up to date on the increasing number of shenanigans Bennett and Chloe were dealing with. I could only imagine they were pretty epic.

“I like being with you,” Hanna said, breaking back into my thoughts. Maybe it was the lights in the bar, or maybe it was her mood, but her eyes had more blue in them today than they normally did. It made me think of spring being released full bore into New York City. I wanted winter gone. I think I needed everything around me to transition so it didn’t feel like I was the only one going through something.

She paused, and her eyes focused on my lips. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Laughing, I whispered, “You said that already. You apologized with words. And then with your mouth on my dick.”

She laughed, tucking her head into my neck, and I could pretend we were alone, just dancing in my living room, or bedroom. Only, if we were there, we wouldn’t be dancing. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my body from reacting to this fresh reminder that she was pressed against me, had given me the bl*w j*b of my life earlier, and that it might be possible to convince her to come back to my place again later. Even if she just wanted to curl up and sleep, I’d be completely down for that. After all the drama of the day, I didn’t really want her to go home after this.

“I guess I don’t really know what to do,” she admitted. “I know we talked earlier but things still feel kind of weird.”

I sighed. “Why is it complicated, though?” The lights from the dance floor ran shadows across her face, and she looked so f**king beautiful, I felt like I was losing my mind. The question filled my throat like smoke until I felt too full. “Isn’t this good?” I smiled so she might think I knew it was; maybe she would believe for a second that I didn’t actually need the reassurance.

“It’s actually amazing how good it is,” she whispered. “I feel like I didn’t know you at all before, even though I thought I did. You’re this brilliant scientist, with these really amazing, meaningful tattoos. You run triathlons and have this close, sweet relationship with your sisters and your mom.” Her nails scratched lightly down my neck. “I know you’ve always been sexual, really sexual. From the first time I met you when you were nineteen, to now, twelve years later. I really like spending time with you for that reason, too, because you’re teaching me things I didn’t know about my body, and what I like. I think what we have right now is actually really perfect.”

I was a second away from kissing her, running a hand up her side to feel the shape of her ribs and her spine. I wanted to pull her down onto the floor and feel her under me. But we were at a bar. Fucking idiot, Will. I looked away, and inadvertently over at my group of friends behind her. All four of them were back to watching us. Bennett and Sara had actually turned their chairs so they could see us without having to crane their necks, but as soon as they noticed I had noticed them, they snapped their attention elsewhere: Max to the bar, Sara up at the ceiling, Bennett down at the watch on his wrist. Only Chloe continued to stare, a big smile on her face.

“This was a bad idea, coming here,” I said.

Hanna shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think it was good to get out of the house and talk a little.”

“Is that what we did?” I asked, smiling. “Talked about how we don’t need to talk about it?”

Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. “Sure. But I think I just want to go back to your place and do things while we talk.”

I pulled my keys from my pocket, sifting through them to locate the right one. “You’re not coming up here to grab a cup of tea and then head home.”

She nodded. “I know. But I do need to go to lab tomorrow. I don’t think I’ve ever just not shown up like I did today.”

I unlocked my front door, pushing it open and letting her lead us inside. She headed straight for the kitchen.

“Wrong way.”

“I won’t leave after tea,” she said over her shoulder. “But I do want some. That drink made me sleepy.”

“You had two sips.” We’d left her mostly full Jack and Coke on the table while Bennett and the rest did their best to convince us to stay and not only finish the one, but have another.

“I think there was the equivalent of seven shots in those two sips.”

Stepping up to the stove, I grabbed the kettle and then turned to fill it with water. “Then you’re a pretty boring drunk. If I had seven shots I would have been stripping on the table.”

She laughed, opening my fridge, rooting around, and finally pulling out a carrot. She walked over to my counter and hopped up on it, swinging her legs. Even though this was so new, it seemed like she’d been coming over here for years.

Her hair had started to come undone and a few pieces fell in small curls next to her face and down the back of her neck. The warmth of the bar, or maybe the two sips of her drink, had left her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. She blinked slowly as she looked over at me and I smiled.

“You look pretty,” I said, leaning against the counter beside her.

She snapped into the carrot. “Thanks.”

“Think I might f**k you senseless in a few minutes.”

Shrugging and pretending to look nonchalant, she murmured, “Okay.”

But then she reached out with her legs and pulled me closer, between her thighs. “Despite that whole ‘work’ thing I mentioned, I think you could probably keep me up all night again, if you really wanted.”

I reached forward with one hand and slipped the top button of her shirt free. “What do you want me to do to you tonight?”

“Anything.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Anything?”

She reconsidered, whispering, “Everything.”

“I love this,” I said, stepping closer and running my nose up the column of her neck. “This kind of sex where I get to learn everything you like. I discover all of your sounds.”

“I don’t know . . .” She trailed off, waving her carrot in a vague circle next to my head. “Isn’t sex with someone you’ve been with forever the best kind, though? Like she’s in bed, falls asleep, he comes in, and she just instinctively rolls to him, you know? And it’s like, her face in his warm neck and his hands all up and down her back, then her pants come off and he’s pushing inside her before her shirt is even off. He knows what’s under there. Maybe he can’t wait to be inside her first. He doesn’t have to take things off in order anymore.”

I pulled back and stared at her as she snapped another bite of her carrot. She had quite the vivid image of such a moment. I personally would never have said familiar sex is the best kind. A good kind, sure. But the way she said it—the way her voice dropped and her eyes kind of closed—fuck, yes, it sounded like the best kind. I could see that life with Hanna, where we shared a bed, and a kitchen, and finances and fights. I could see her getting angry with me, and me coming to find her later and making it up to her in whatever sneak-attack ways I had learned over time because she was mine and, being Hanna, she couldn’t help but let every thought and desire slip out of her mouth.

Damn. She wasn’t sexy in any of the ordinary ways. She was sexy because she didn’t care if I was watching her chow down on a carrot, or that her hair was in this half-assed ponytail she hadn’t bothered to fix since we were lounging on the couch earlier. She was so comfortable in her skin, so comfortable being watched—I’d never known a woman like her. She would never assume I was staring and judging. She assumed I was staring because I was listening. And I was. I would listen to her ramble about familiar sex and anal sex and p*rn films forever.

“You’re looking at me like I’m food.” She held out her carrot, grinned wickedly. “Want some?”

I shook my head. “I want you.”

She moved her hands up, unbuttoning her shirt now, and slid it off her shoulders.

“Tell me what you like,” I said, stepping even closer and kissing the hollow of her throat.

“I like when you come on me.”

I let out a quiet laugh into her neck. “I know that. What else?”

“When you watch where you’re moving in me.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Tell me what you like that I do to you.”

Hanna shrugged a little, running her fingertips down my chest before reaching for the hem of my shirt and pulling it up and over my head. “I like when you throw me around a little, have your way with me. I like when you act like my body is yours.”

The teakettle whistled, screeching in the quiet kitchen, and I moved away just long enough to grab her mug and pour some hot water over a tea bag. “When I’m touching you,” I told her, putting the kettle down, “your body is mine. Mine to kiss, and fuck, and taste.”

She lifted her eyebrow and smiled at me. “Well, when I’m touching you, your body is mine, too, you know.”

My mind went completely, directly into the gutter when she leaned across the counter, reached for the honey, and drizzled some into the mug.