Beautiful Player (Beautiful Bastard 3)

I rolled my eyes, grinning. With a little shrug, Will turned the key in the ignition. The car started with a roar and Will put it in gear, winking at me before pressing the gas. We lurched forward, jerking to a stop only a few feet from the curb.

He frowned but restarted the engine and managed to pull out smoothly into traffic the second go-round. I snatched his phone from the cup holder and began scrolling through his music. He gave me a disapproving look but didn’t comment, instead turning his eyes on the road.

“Britney Spears?” I asked, laughing, and he reached out blindly, attempting to take it from me.

“My sister,” he mumbled.

“Suuuure.”

We reached a light at Broadway and the car stalled again. Will coughed but started it, swearing when it stalled just a few minutes later.

“You sure you know how to handle this thing?” I asked, smirking. “Been a New Yorker so long you’ve forgotten how to drive?”

He glared at me. “This would be a lot easier if we’d had sex in the back first. Help me clear my head.”

I looked out the windshield and then back to him, smiling, as I ducked beneath his arm and went to work on his zipper. “Who needs the backseat?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I turned off the car and the engine ticked in the answering silence. Beside me, Hanna was asleep, her head resting away from me and against the passenger window. We were parked in front of the Bergstrom family home on the outskirts of Boston, which featured a wide, white porch wrapping around clean brick. The front windows were framed by navy shutters and inside could be seen the hint of heavy cream curtains. The house was large, and beautiful, and held so many of my own memories I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Hanna to come back here.

I hadn’t been here in a couple of years, not since I’d visited with Jensen for a random summer weekend to catch up with his folks. None of the other kids had been there. It was quiet and relaxing, and we’d spent most of the weekend on the back veranda, sipping gin-and-tonics and reading. But now I was parked in front of the house, sitting next to my friend’s sister, who had given me two rounds of stellar car head, the last one ending less than an hour ago with my hands white-knuckling the steering wheel and my c*ck so deep in her throat I could feel her swallowing when I came. She really was a natural with the oral skills. She thought she needed further instruction, and I was happy to keep up the ruse long enough for her to practice on me a few more times.

In the city, enmeshed in our day-to-day lives, it was easy to forget the Jensen connection, the family connection. The they’d-all-kill-me-if-they-knew-what-we-were-doing connection. I’d been blindsided when she’d brought up Liv because it had felt like such ancient history. But I would be faced with all of that this weekend: my brief history as Liv’s former flame, as Jensen’s best friend, as Johan’s intern. And I would have to face all of that while trying to hide my infatuation with Hanna.

I put my hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. “Hanna.”

She startled a little, but the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was me. She was groggy and not quite conscious but she smiled as if looking at her favorite thing in the world, and murmured, “Mmmm, hey, you.”

And, with that reaction, my heart exploded. “Hey, Plum.”

She smiled shyly, turning her head to look out her window as she stretched. When she saw where we’d parked, she startled a little, sitting up straighter, looking around. “Oh! We’re here.”

“We’re here.”

When she turned back to me, her eyes looked mildly panicked. “It’s going to be weird, isn’t it? I’m going to be staring at your button fly and Jensen will see me staring at your button fly and then you’ll check out my chest and someone will see that, too! What if I touch you? Or”—her eyes went wide—“what if I kiss you?”

Her impending little freak-out calmed me immeasurably. Only one of us was allowed to feel weird at a time.

I shook my head, telling her, “It’s going to be fine. We’re here as friends. We’re visiting your family as friends. There will be no public dick appreciation, and no public breast admiration. I didn’t even pack another pair of button flies. Deal?”

“Deal,” she repeated woodenly. “Just friends.”

“Because that’s what we are,” I reminded her, ignoring the organ inside my chest that twisted as I said this.

Straightening, she nodded and reached for her door handle, chirping, “Friends! Friends visiting my house for Easter! We’re going to see your old friend, my big brother! Thanks for driving me up here from New York, friend Will my friend!”

She laughed as she got out of the car and walked around to get her bag from the trunk.

“Hanna, calm down,” I whispered, placing a soothing hand on her lower back. I felt my eyes move down her neck and settle on her br**sts. “Don’t be a lunatic.”

“Eyes up here, William. Best start now.”

Laughing, I whispered, “I’ll try.”

“Me, too.” With a little wink, she whispered, “And remember to call me Ziggy.”

Helena Bergstrom was such a good hugger she could have been from the Pacific Northwest. Only her softly lilting accent and dramatically European features gave her away as Norwegian-born. She welcomed me in, pulling me just past the front door and then into her familiar embrace. Like Hanna, she was on the tall side, and she had aged beautifully. I kissed her cheek, handing her the flowers we’d bought for her when we stopped to refuel.

“You’re always so thoughtful,” she said, taking them and waving us in. “Johan is still at work. Eric can’t make it. Liv and Rob are here, but Jensen and Niels are still on the road.” She looked past me, eyebrows drawn together. “It is going to rain, so I hope they all get here for dinner.”

She rattled off her children’s names as easily as she breathed. What had her life been like, I wondered, herding so many kids? And as each of them got married and had little ones of their own, this house would only grow more full.

I felt an unfamiliar ache to be part of it somehow and then blinked, looking away. This weekend had the potential to be strange enough without my new emotions thrown into the mix.

Inside, the house felt the same as it had years ago, even though they’d redecorated. It was still comfortable, but instead of the blue and gray décor I remembered from before, it was done in deep browns and reds with plush furniture and bright, cream walls. In the entryway and along the hallway leading deeper into the house, I could see that, redecoration or no, Helena still embraced her American life with a healthy smattering of life-affirming quotes masquerading as art on the walls. I knew what I would see farther into the house:

In the hallway, Live, Laugh, Love!

In the kitchen, A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand!

In the family room, Our children: We give them roots so they can take flight!

Catching me reading the one closest to the front door—All roads lead home—Hanna winked, wearing a knowing smile.

As feet tapped down the wooden stairs just to the side of the entryway, I looked up and met Liv’s bright green eyes. My stomach dropped a little.

There was no reason for me to let things be weird with Liv; I’d seen her a handful of times since we’d hooked up, most recently at Jensen’s wedding a few years ago, where we’d had a nice conversation about her job at a small commercial firm in Hanover. Her fiancé—now husband—had seemed nice. I’d walked away from the evening not thinking twice about where things stood with Liv of all people.

But that was because I hadn’t considered that our brief fling had meant anything to her, I hadn’t known she’d been heartsick when I returned to Yale after the Christmas holiday so many years ago. It was as if a huge chunk of my history with the Bergstrom family had been rewritten—with me as the flaky lothario—and now that I was here, I realized I hadn’t done anything to mentally prepare for it.

As I stood stiff as a statue, she walked up and hugged me. “Hey, Will.” I felt the press of her very pregnant belly against my stomach and she laughed, whispering, “Hug me, silly.”

I relaxed, wrapping my arms around her. “Hey yourself. I think it’s safe to say congratulations are in order?”

She stepped back, rubbing her stomach and smiling. “Thanks.” Amusement twinkled in her eyes and I remembered that Hanna had called her after our fight, and that Liv probably knew exactly what was going on with me and her little sister.

My stomach twisted back into a knot, but I pushed past it, forcing the weekend to not be peculiar on every level. “Are we expecting a boy or a girl?”

“It’s going to be a surprise,” she said. “Rob wants to know, but I don’t. And so that means, of course, that I win.” Laughing, she moved to the side to let her husband shake my hand.

We shared a few more pleasantries in the foyer; Hanna updated her mother and Liv on the latest news from graduate school, Rob and I spoke idly about the Knicks before Helena gestured to the kitchen. “I’m going to get back in there. Come on down for a cocktail after you’ve settled in a little.”

I grabbed our bags and followed Hanna up the stairs.

“Put Will in the yellow room,” Helena called.

“Was that my room before?” I asked, checking out Hanna’s perfect ass. She had always been slender, but the running was doing really great things for her curves.

“No, you were in the white guest room, the other one,” she said, and then turned to smile at me over her shoulder. “Not that I remember every detail of that summer or anything.”

I laughed and stepped past her into the bedroom that was meant to be mine for the night. “Where is your room?” The question came out before I’d really considered whether it was a good thing to ask, and certainly whether I’d checked to make sure no one else had followed us up here.

She looked back over her shoulder and then stepped inside, closing the door. “Two doors down.”

The space seemed to shrink, and we stood, staring at each other.

“Hey,” she whispered.

It was the first time since we left New York that I considered this might be a horrible idea. I was in love with Hanna. How would I be able to keep that from showing every time I looked at her?

“Hey,” I managed.

Tilting her head, she whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I scratched my neck. “Just . . . want to kiss you.”

She took a few steps closer until she could run her hands under my shirt and up my chest. I bent, pressing a single, chaste kiss to her mouth.

“But I shouldn’t,” I said against her lips when she came back for another.

“Probably not.” Her mouth moved over my chin, down my jaw, sucking, nibbling. Beneath my shirt, she scratched my chest with her fingernails, lightly sliding over my n**ples. In only seconds I was rigid, ready, felt the fever slide over my skin and dig down into my muscles.

“I won’t want to stop at just kissing,” I said, half-warning for her to stop, half-plea for her to keep going.

“We have a little time before everyone else gets here,” she said. She stepped back far enough to unbutton my jeans. “We could—”

I stilled her hands, the cautious side winning out. “Hanna. No way.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

“That isn’t the only issue I have with f**king you in your parents’ house—during daylight, no less. Didn’t we just have this conversation outside?”

“I know, I know. But what if this is the only time we’ll be alone together?” she asked with a smile. “Don’t you want to fool around with me here?”

She had lost her mind. “Hanna,” I hissed, closing my eyes and stifling a groan as she pushed my jeans and boxers down my h*ps and wrapped a warm, tight hand around my shaft. “We really shouldn’t.”

She stopped, holding me gently. “We can be quick. For once.”

I opened my eyes, looking at her. I didn’t like to be quick ever, but especially not with Hanna. I liked to take my time. But if she was offering herself to me and we only had five minutes, I could handle five minutes. The rest of the family hadn’t arrived yet; maybe it would be okay. And then I remembered: “Fuck. I don’t have any condoms. I didn’t pack any. For obvious reasons.”

She cursed, wincing. “Me, either.”

The question hung between us when she looked at me, eyes wide and pleading.

“No,” I said without her having to say a word.

“But I’ve been on the pill for years.”

I closed my eyes, jaw tight. Fuck. Pregnancy was the only thing I’d really been worried about. Even in my wildest days, I’d never had sex without a condom. In the past several years I was tested for anything every few months anyway. “Hanna.”

“No, you’re right,” she said, thumb sweeping over the head of my cock, spreading the moisture there. “It’s not just about getting pregnant. It’s about being safe . . .”

“I’ve never had sex without a condom,” I blurted. Who knew I had a death wish?

She stilled. “Ever?”

“Never even rubbed around on the outside. I’m too paranoid.”

Her eyes widened. “What about ‘just the tip’? I thought every guy did just the tip as a point of habit.”

“I’m paranoid and careful. I know it only takes one time.” I smiled at her, knowing she’d understand the reference: I was an “oops” baby.

Her eyes darkened, moved to stare at my mouth. “Will? This would be your first time like this?”

Fuck. When she looked at me like that, when her voice got all husky and quiet, I was lost. It wasn’t just a physical attraction between us. Of course I’d been attracted to women before. But there was something more with Hanna, some chemistry in our blood, something between us that snapped and crackled, that made me always want just a little more than I should take. She offered her friendship, I wanted her body. She offered her body, I wanted to hijack her thoughts. She offered her thoughts, I wanted her heart.