Beautiful Player
Page 69
I watched her face as she walked through the memory, waiting to hear how this night ended for her. And me. I couldn’t remember seeing Hanna when I lived in Baltimore, but there were a million nights like this, at a bar with the band, some Goth girl or preppy girl or hippie chick up front and, later in the night, under or over me.
She licked her lips. “I asked if we were meeting up with you later, and Jensen just laughed.”
I hummed, shaking my head and trailing my hand up her thigh. “I don’t remember what happened after that show.” Too late, I realized how awful it sounded, but the reality was, if I wanted to be with Hanna, she would eventually know the truth of just how wild I’d been.
“Was that the kind of girl you liked? ‘She paints her eyes as black as night now’?”
I sighed, climbing up her body so we were face-to-face. “I liked all kinds of girls. I think you know that.”
I’d tried to emphasize the past tense, but realized I’d failed when she whispered, “You’re such a player.”
She said it with a smile but I hated it. I hated the tight edge to her voice and knowing that was exactly how she saw me: f**king anything that moved, and now her, in this conglomeration of limbs and lips and pleasure.
In the end one loves one’s desire and not what is desired.
And I had no defense; it had been mostly true for so long.
Rolling closer, she wrapped her hand around my semi-erect cock, stroking up, squeezing. “What’s your type now?”
She was giving me an out. She didn’t want it to be true anymore, either. I leaned in, kissed her jaw. “My type is more along the lines of a Scandinavian sex bomb named Plum.”
“Why did it bother you when I called you a player?”
I groaned, rolling away from her touch.
“I’m serious.”
I threw my arm over my eyes, trying to collect my thoughts. Finally, I said, “What if I’m not that guy anymore? What if it’s been twelve years since I was that guy? I’m open with my lovers about what I want. I don’t play anyone.”
She pulled back a little and looked at me, wearing an amused smile. “That doesn’t make you receptive and deep, Will. No one says a player has to be an ass**le.”
I rubbed my face. “I just think the word ‘player’ has a connotation that doesn’t fit me. I feel like I try harder than that to be good to the women I’m with, to talk about what we’re doing together.”
“Well,” she said. “you haven’t talked to me about what you want.”
I hesitated, my heart exploding in a wild gallop. I hadn’t, and it was because it felt so different with her from every other time I’d been with a woman. Being with Hanna wasn’t just about intense physical pleasure; it also made me feel calm, and thrilled, and known. I hadn’t wanted to discuss this because I hadn’t wanted either of us to have the chance to limit it.
Taking a deep breath, I murmured, “That’s because with you, I’m not really sure if what I want is sex.”
She pulled away, sat up slowly. The sheets slid off her body and she reached for a shirt at the end of the bed.
“Okay. This is . . . awkward.”
Oh, shit. That hadn’t come out right. “No, no,” I said, sitting up behind her and kissing her shoulder. I pulled her shirt from her hands, dropping it on the floor. I licked down her spine, slipping my hand around her waist and sliding up, resting my palm over her heart.
“I’m trying to find a way to say I want it to be more than sex. I have feelings for you that go way past sexual.”
She stilled, growing completely frozen. “You don’t.”
“I don’t?” I stared at her rigid back, my pulse picking up from anger rather than anxiety. “What do you mean I don’t?”
She stood, wrapping the sheet around her body. Ice slid into my veins, cooling every part of me. I sat up, watching her. “Are you—what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry. I just—I have some stuff to do.” She walked over to the dresser, began pulling things from a drawer. “I need to get to work.”
“Now?”
“Yes,” she said.
“So I tell you I have feelings and you’re kicking me out?”
She spun around to face me. “I need to go right now, okay?”
“I can see that,” I said, and she limped into the bathroom.
I was humiliated and furious. And I was terrified this was it. Who would have thought I’d f**k it up with a girl by falling for her? I wanted to get the hell out of there, and I wanted to climb out of the bed, pull her back. Maybe we both needed to think about a few things.
She licked her lips. “I asked if we were meeting up with you later, and Jensen just laughed.”
I hummed, shaking my head and trailing my hand up her thigh. “I don’t remember what happened after that show.” Too late, I realized how awful it sounded, but the reality was, if I wanted to be with Hanna, she would eventually know the truth of just how wild I’d been.
“Was that the kind of girl you liked? ‘She paints her eyes as black as night now’?”
I sighed, climbing up her body so we were face-to-face. “I liked all kinds of girls. I think you know that.”
I’d tried to emphasize the past tense, but realized I’d failed when she whispered, “You’re such a player.”
She said it with a smile but I hated it. I hated the tight edge to her voice and knowing that was exactly how she saw me: f**king anything that moved, and now her, in this conglomeration of limbs and lips and pleasure.
In the end one loves one’s desire and not what is desired.
And I had no defense; it had been mostly true for so long.
Rolling closer, she wrapped her hand around my semi-erect cock, stroking up, squeezing. “What’s your type now?”
She was giving me an out. She didn’t want it to be true anymore, either. I leaned in, kissed her jaw. “My type is more along the lines of a Scandinavian sex bomb named Plum.”
“Why did it bother you when I called you a player?”
I groaned, rolling away from her touch.
“I’m serious.”
I threw my arm over my eyes, trying to collect my thoughts. Finally, I said, “What if I’m not that guy anymore? What if it’s been twelve years since I was that guy? I’m open with my lovers about what I want. I don’t play anyone.”
She pulled back a little and looked at me, wearing an amused smile. “That doesn’t make you receptive and deep, Will. No one says a player has to be an ass**le.”
I rubbed my face. “I just think the word ‘player’ has a connotation that doesn’t fit me. I feel like I try harder than that to be good to the women I’m with, to talk about what we’re doing together.”
“Well,” she said. “you haven’t talked to me about what you want.”
I hesitated, my heart exploding in a wild gallop. I hadn’t, and it was because it felt so different with her from every other time I’d been with a woman. Being with Hanna wasn’t just about intense physical pleasure; it also made me feel calm, and thrilled, and known. I hadn’t wanted to discuss this because I hadn’t wanted either of us to have the chance to limit it.
Taking a deep breath, I murmured, “That’s because with you, I’m not really sure if what I want is sex.”
She pulled away, sat up slowly. The sheets slid off her body and she reached for a shirt at the end of the bed.
“Okay. This is . . . awkward.”
Oh, shit. That hadn’t come out right. “No, no,” I said, sitting up behind her and kissing her shoulder. I pulled her shirt from her hands, dropping it on the floor. I licked down her spine, slipping my hand around her waist and sliding up, resting my palm over her heart.
“I’m trying to find a way to say I want it to be more than sex. I have feelings for you that go way past sexual.”
She stilled, growing completely frozen. “You don’t.”
“I don’t?” I stared at her rigid back, my pulse picking up from anger rather than anxiety. “What do you mean I don’t?”
She stood, wrapping the sheet around her body. Ice slid into my veins, cooling every part of me. I sat up, watching her. “Are you—what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry. I just—I have some stuff to do.” She walked over to the dresser, began pulling things from a drawer. “I need to get to work.”
“Now?”
“Yes,” she said.
“So I tell you I have feelings and you’re kicking me out?”
She spun around to face me. “I need to go right now, okay?”
“I can see that,” I said, and she limped into the bathroom.
I was humiliated and furious. And I was terrified this was it. Who would have thought I’d f**k it up with a girl by falling for her? I wanted to get the hell out of there, and I wanted to climb out of the bed, pull her back. Maybe we both needed to think about a few things.
