Managed Hearts

by MacMillan, Jerica

  Hannah gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I know. But he’s here, and we danced and kissed, and I can’t help it. I want to go with him.”

  Wrapping her arms around Hannah, Elena gave her a hug, holding her close for a moment to speak in her ear. “Okay. I get it. But be careful, okay? I don’t want to have to put you back together like I did last time.”

  Hannah nodded, pulling back. “I know. But it seems different—he seems different. I just—I want to see what happens. It’s just for tonight, just to talk. I’m not going to sleep with him, I promise.”

  Elena flashed her a devilish grin. “I wouldn’t make you promise that, not after what you told me before. If he was that good then, imagine what it would be like now that both of you have more experience under your belts. Literally. Ha!” Elena laughed at her own joke, and Hannah couldn’t suppress the smile that came to her own face at Elena’s unintended pun, even if she didn’t want to pursue that line of conversation.

  “Haha. Yeah. Anyway, he’s waiting so I’m going to go.”

  Elena waved, already moving back to the guys who’d been taking turns calling out to her and trying to lure her back to the dance floor. “Okay. Be careful!”

  With Elena’s warning ringing in her ears, Hannah turned and made her way back to the door.

  Matt had been scanning the crowd for what felt like forever, waiting for Hannah. After texting Chris that he was taking off, he’d held his phone in his hand for a moment waiting for acknowledgment. In response he got one word: Douche. With a shake of his head, he’d pocketed the phone again, bouncing on his toes, full of nervous energy.

  She was taking longer than he’d expected. Did she have trouble finding Elena? Maybe. Or maybe Elena was talking her out of going with him. Given how he’d ended things between them before, Hannah’s comments about not wanting to make the same mistake again, and how protective he remembered Elena being, he could see her trying to convince Hannah that he was bad news and best avoided. He smirked at the memory of Elena cornering him one night shortly after he and Hannah had started seeing each other. She’d interrogated him and told him in no uncertain terms that she’d cut his balls off and stuff them down his throat if he so much as thought about hurting her friend.

  The smile fell away as time continued to stretch out while he waited. Would Elena try to make good on that threat all this time later? Had he hurt Hannah? She obviously didn’t hate him or she wouldn’t have let him touch her, much less kiss him back like that. So maybe she’d just considered it a fun summer romance and let it go. Although, she’d seemed confused and hurt in her last email after he’d stopped responding. He hoped she didn’t hold it against him, because as of right now he wanted to pick up where they left off, and that meant he wanted her in his bed. Right now.

  This wait was pure torture.

  Finally he saw her pushing past the last few people separating them. He stopped bouncing, his lips spreading in a wide smile as she approached. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Her smile matched his.

  “I was starting to wonder if you were going to come back.”

  He could see her chuckle, though it was soft enough that he couldn’t hear it over the noise of the club. “I’m here. Sorry I took so long. It took a while to find Elena, and then I had to explain.” She gestured at him, as though that said it all. Hmm. What did she think she had to explain to Elena?

  Instead of asking for details, he reached for her hand, leading her out the door. He wrapped his arm around her once they got back into the cold.

  She looked up at him gratefully. “We took a cab. Door to door service makes it easier to go without a coat.”

  “It’s not quite door to door, but my roommate’s car is just a block over and around the corner.”

  Hannah’s brows came together. “Your roommate’s car?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “I drive a truck, but the three of us came together, so we took Chris’s car. I lost rock, paper, scissors and got stuck driving, though.”

  Hannah’s steps slowed, forcing Matt to slow alongside her. She turned to face him. “We’re abandoning your roommates when you were supposed to drive them?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, unable to keep his hands to himself. “They were kind of expecting me to ditch them anyway. They’ll be fine calling a cab or catching a ride with someone else. They won’t be ready to leave for a while yet.” At least he hoped not. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. Unless they got really horny or something, they should stay and party for a while. Chris had become more tame since he and Megan got together and he started training for combines, but tomorrow was a light day, and from what he’d seen, Chris wasn’t drinking enough to get hungover. But Megan loved dancing, and according to Chris, things were even hotter in the sack when he took her dancing. Judging by the sounds that came from their room all the damn time, Chris wasn’t lying.

  Hannah still looked conflicted, so he kissed her. He wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to strip her and ravage her, claim her again, erase the feeling of anyone else on her skin.

  A growl came out of him at the thought of anyone else touching her. It was stupid and hypocritical, he knew, because he’d been the furthest thing from a monk you could get without tipping over into manwhore territory. He didn’t have the same reputation that Chris and Lance used to have. He’d actually date girls, have relationships, even if he did let the jersey chasers take the edge off when he was between girlfriends.

  He broke off the kiss and tugged Hannah along. They moved as fast as her shoes would let her, trying to get out of the cold as quickly as possible. At the car, he pushed her against the passenger door, kissing her again. She pressed her breasts into his chest, her arms sliding around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her as much as he pushed against her. He kissed and sucked and nipped a path down her neck to her collarbone, raising his head so he could look down at her cleavage, his palms stroking her over the fabric of her dress.

  Her shiver brought him back to himself and the realization that they were severely underdressed to be outside on a January night. As though he needed the reminder, the wind picked up, slicing into them, heavy with the smell of coming rain, and goosebumps broke out all over their bare skin.

  He smiled down at her, and her pink lips, now swollen from his kiss, turned up at the corners. Reaching for the handle, he moved her out of the way and opened the door for her. He couldn’t resist bending down and kissing her once more after she got into the car.

  She kissed him back for far too short of a time before pushing him away with a laugh. “Get in the car. I’m freezing.”

  He laughed too and closed her door, hurrying to the driver’s side because she was right, he was freezing his balls off, and he’d like to keep those in working order. Cranking the heater as soon as he turned on the car set off a new round of shivers in Hannah, who sat huddled in the passenger seat in her curve-hugging dress with her arms pulled in tight to her torso, shoulders raised, and her hands clasped in front of her mouth.

  He grabbed the sweatshirt he’d brought along from the back seat, dragging it forward and piling it in Hannah’s lap. “Here. This’ll help you get warm sooner.”

  She picked it up, looking doubtful for half a second before pulling it over her head. The look of bliss on her face once she was enveloped in the soft fabric of his red MU Football sweatshirt sent blood straight to his cock, and he shifted in his seat, trying to make more room for the hard-on trying to bust out of his jeans. He couldn’t wait until he was the cause of that expression instead of his stupid sweatshirt.

  “Better?”

  She turned her face to him. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Much better. Thanks.”

  He wove his way through downtown traffic, moving slowly past the popular clubs and concert venues where people spilled out into the streets, some not bothering to look before wandering in front of oncoming traffic. Once they’d passed through the wo
rst of it and were on the way to his house, he glanced over at Hannah. She sat rubbing her hands up and down her arms, a thoughtful look on her face. He wanted to reach over, touch her, distract her from those serious thoughts running behind her eyes. He wanted her attention back on him so he could keep her from second-guessing the wisdom of her decision. This wasn’t a time for thinking. It was a time for feeling, for riding the wave until it crested and broke, then see where they ended up.

  Instead he asked, “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, fine.” She said it absently, almost automatically, not taking her eyes off the dark road illuminated by the car’s headlights.

  “Hannah?”

  “Hmm?” She turned to face him. The hazy look on her face cleared and a furrow appeared between her brows, a frown pulling at her sweet lips. She glanced around at the houses and trees as they passed. “Where are we going?”

  He glanced at her, his hands flexing around the steering wheel, suddenly nervous, afraid that she’d ask him to take her home. “My house?” He hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, but that’s how it came out. “Is that okay?”

  When he looked over at her again, the furrow had deepened, and she was examining him. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

  He chuckled, glad she didn’t automatically object to going home with him. “Okay, babe. That’s fine.” That was mostly a lie. He really wanted to have sex with her, see if that was as good as he remembered. But he wouldn’t push it. He’d be patient with her, just like before, wait for her to be ready, until they were both ready to combust from the sparks they ignited together.

  Chapter Seven

  Hannah sat in the car watching Matt, fingers itching to trace the curves and swirls of the tribal tattoo peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. She forced herself to look away, turning her attention to warming her frozen skin now that the heater had finally kicked in. Slipping her feet out of her shoes, she held her toes right up under the vent so they could thaw out.

  For his part, Matt remained stoically silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his jaw flex over and over, and he looked like he might try to rip the steering wheel off the car altogether. She held back a sigh. What she was doing with him? This couldn’t be a good idea. It didn’t matter how well he kissed or how good she felt with his arms around her again. He was still the guy who’d stopped answering her emails after a few weeks. That had hurt her, to know that she could be so easily forgotten by someone important to her. To think that she was never as important to him. He’d broken her heart.

  She needed to remember that. Whatever she decided to let happen between them, she needed to remember that she was never as important to him as he’d been to her.

  When he pulled into a driveway and turned off the car, Hannah let out a sigh of disappointment, looking down to put her shoes back on. They were still warm from the heater, but it didn’t feel as good as having the hot air blowing directly over her toes.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked up and gave him a little smile. “Yeah, fine. My toes are still cold, though, and now they don’t have hot air blowing on them.”

  With a wicked glint in his eye, he returned her smile. “I’ll make sure you get nice and warm inside. Come on.”

  He got out of the car before she could respond, meeting her at her door, offering his hand as she set her feet unsteadily on the uneven concrete of the driveway, rocks and pebbles scattered around, barely visible by the light thrown from the porch. He led her up to the front door, holding her hand the whole way.

  After flicking on the light just inside the door, he dropped her hand. Moving into the living room, Matt scooped up a couple of empty bottles and a plate from the coffee table that sat in front of a battered-looking couch. A blanket lay over the back, and a few mismatched throw pillows nestled in the corners. An equally battered tan recliner sat next to it, signs of wear at the corners, the arms and seat darkened from use and age. Her eyes ran over the space, taking in the large flat-screen TV, video game consoles, controllers, and assorted electronics stuffed in a small entertainment center that was the same as hers.

  “Make yourself at home.” She looked up at the sound of Matt’s voice as he disappeared through a doorway at the back of the room into the kitchen. He poked his head back around the open doorway. “You want anything to drink? Beer, water, uh …” He trailed off and disappeared for a second. “Yup, beer or water are the choices. Megan would be mad if someone drank the last of the milk.” His head came around again. “So?”

  Hannah shook her head, confused. “You live with a girl?”

  Matt chuckled and came back to the living room with two open bottles of beer in hand. He handed one to her, and she took it automatically, waiting for his answer.

  Tipping back the bottle, he took a healthy swallow and nodded. “Yeah, Megan moved in with Chris and me in August. They’re together.” He pointed toward a doorway off to her right, in the wall behind the recliner. “That’s their bedroom.” He nodded toward an opening on the opposite wall adjacent to the kitchen doorway. “My room and what’s become Megan’s painting studio are that way. As is the bathroom if you need it.”

  Absently sipping her beer, she glanced around the space. There were paintings on the walls, abstract looking ones full of nuanced shading as well as landscapes of local landmarks. Matt turned his head to follow her gaze. “Megan did those. When she ran out of wall space in their room she started putting them up out here, claiming that we were barbarians for never having decorated. She’s also responsible for the pillows and blankets.” He shrugged. “When it was Lance, Chris, and me, we didn’t give a shit so we never bothered.”

  Hannah nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say. Stepping toward her, Matt took the beer from her hand and set it on the coffee table along with his. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, which made her realize she still had on his sweatshirt. It almost covered her dress, and she could imagine how ridiculous it must look, but the heat in Matt’s eyes told her he disagreed with her assessment. She drew in a sharp breath.

  His hands traveled up her arms to cup her jaw and the base of her skull, tilting her head up so he could touch his lips to hers. A brief touch, so light that she almost questioned whether it actually happened. From the look in his eyes, she’d expected to be devoured, but instead he touched her lips with his again. And once more before pulling back to look down into her face. “Are you still cold?” His voice came out as a rasp.

  “Yeah.” Hers was breathy and soft, too. He pulled her with him toward the couch, settling her with her back against the arm and her feet in his lap. He slipped her shoes off, then pulled the blanket over her but left her feet exposed. His hands enveloped her right foot, one hand cupping the heel, the other wrapped around her toes, hot against her chilled skin. “Holy shit, your feet are freezing.”

  A snort escaped before she could stop it. “I know.”

  He smiled back, kneading the balls of her feet with his thumbs.

  She let out a wordless moan. His fingers felt so good, strong and sure as they coaxed warmth back to her icicle toes. His eyes met hers, dark with lust, the light blue just a rim around the black of his pupils. His smile turned wicked, and she became aware of the hardness pressing against her other ankle. Heat rose in her cheeks, and his smile only grew bigger. He shifted his attention to her other foot, picking it up so that it didn’t press against his cock anymore.

  After massaging and warming her foot, he worked his way up her calf, squeezing the muscle, his thumbs stroking and caressing her skin, warming her legs too. When he reached her knee, he moved her leg to the side, pushing the blanket off her so it slid to the floor, moving between her legs into the opening he’d created. She let him, enjoying the way his hands felt on her too much to stop. She sucked in a breath as his hands continued their way up, one on each leg, slowly moving and caressing their way from her knees to her thighs, spreading them farther apart, raising the hem of her skirt until it barely co
vered her thong, his face intent as he watched the path his hands made. He lowered himself, lining up his pelvis with hers, resting between her thighs, before raising his eyes to hers and kissing her deeply. He took his time, his tongue sliding and stroking against hers.

  His hands skimmed up under the sweatshirt, and he sat back to peel it off her. She sat up as well, raising her arms to help. Out of the cold and now with his weight on her and his tongue in her mouth, she was getting too warm, feeling suffocated by the sweatshirt, its thickness an unwanted barrier. His eyes traveled over her, taking in the swell of her cleavage where it rose under the square neckline of her black dress. He traced a finger along the edge of the fabric, and her nipples hardened even more, like they were reaching out for him. Cupping her breasts with his hands, he leaned in and kissed her again, dropping teasing kisses along the sensitive skin below her jaw, sucking lightly at her pulse point, nipping at her collarbone and soothing the sting with his tongue. He lowered the strap on her left shoulder, sliding it down her arm to expose more of her skin to his lips and teeth and tongue. After a moment he sat back and started over down the other side, one of his hands traveling under her skirt, gripping her bare ass, moving to the front to cup her mound, his fingers moving over the thin fabric of her thong.

  He sat back once more, stripping off his T-shirt one handed. She loved when guys did that, any guy, but especially this guy, the muscles in his shoulders and chest bunching and rippling with his movements. She gave in to the urge she had in the car and reached out to run her fingers over his tattoo. She remembered when he’d gotten it, that summer they were together. It had been a couple of weeks after they’d met. He had asked her to come with him, and she’d held his other hand while the tattoo artist worked, keeping her eyes anywhere but on the buzzing needle etching those lines and swirls into his skin. Afterward, his arm bandaged, he’d held her tight and kissed her.