Admit You Want Me

by Holloway, Taylor

  “Intoxicating is right, but really it’s less like being drunk, and more like being a full-fledged alcoholic. You even go through withdrawals.” He was smiling, but it wasn’t a very happy smile at all.

  “But you didn’t go bankrupt.” I felt like Ward wasn’t proud enough of that fact.

  “That’s true. I didn’t. Thanks to the fact that I made a few purchases that actually generated income for me, I managed to escape what happened to most guys.”

  “They ought to provide you guys financial counselling or something.”

  “Oh, they do. We got all kinds of warnings about saving money and making smart investments. But it’s hard to listen to it when you’re twenty-three and making millions of dollars a year.”

  “You sound like you feel really strongly about this issue,” I told him.

  “I just hate the idea that all these guys playing right now are just one compound knee injury away from losing both their dream job and their financial security. It’s not fair to them. There’s always somebody younger and stronger to take your place, so the league doesn’t need to worry much about protecting players.”

  “Have you ever thought about doing something about it?”

  He blinked at me. “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Talking to other players, helping them to manage their finances responsibly.”

  “I told you, they have lots of guys buzzing around trying to help. Some of them are sharks, but some genuinely want to help.”

  “But you said that it’s hard to listen when you’re young and intoxicated by all the money. You could bridge that gap though. It would mean more if it came from someone like you instead of some old dude in a suit that talked down to them. You can relate to those guys. Maybe you could make them listen.”

  He looked like he was chewing it over. “Emma,” he eventually said, “you really are very smart.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a shrug. I took another bite of my pizza and closed my eyes in bliss. “Are you sure you don’t want to try some of this? It really is good.”

  “Nope. No, I don’t want to.”

  “And you say I won’t get out of my comfort zone.”

  “After the football and the fishing, I am pleased to admit that I was wrong,” he said. I grinned, but it faded quickly.

  “But you still won’t even try the pizza?”

  “Not a chance.” He looked at it like it might be poisonous.

  “It will grow on you. You just need to give it a shot.” I offered him a bite and he shook his head.

  “It looks like it would grow on something.” His superiority was beginning to grate on me. If he would just try it, he might like it.

  “You’re a pizza racist,” I accused. “You’re prejudging the pizza on the basis of appearance.”

  “That’s… not even possible. Pizza has no race. It’s pizza.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed. This felt so normal. So good. As we bantered and chatted our way through dinner, my heart started to get attached. I didn’t tell it to, I didn’t want it to, but it was happening. Just like Ward wouldn’t try my pizza, he’d made it clear from the start that he didn’t do relationships. And he was stubborn as hell. When this ended, it was going to hurt. I just knew it.

  28

  Emma

  The fact that Lily was spending the night with Ivan was beyond lucky. Aside from the obvious, it allowed me the opportunity to break into her good liquor. After dinner, Ward made me a vodka tonic and himself a martini while I watched from the little breakfast bar. My kitchen had never looked better than with him in it. It had also never looked smaller.

  “How tall are you?” I asked. He looked a bit surprised.

  “You didn’t look up my Wikipedia page?” He teased, sliding my drink across the countertop like he did at the bar. “I’m pretty sure it’s on there.”

  “My driver’s license says I’m five foot four,” I told him. “I only trust primary sources anyway. Wikipedia can lie.” I wasn’t going to admit how much time I’d spent on Ward’s Wikipedia page. It was a lot. Too much.

  “You wouldn’t be five foot four with your hair teased up three inches like a beauty queen,” Ward said, smirking.

  I rolled my eyes. “No, but a pair of long pants and some high heels fooled the Connecticut DMV when I was sixteen.”

  “I’m six-three,” he said. “A full inch shorter than my Wikipedia page currently says.”

  “You should change it.”

  “Nah, I’ll take it. I don’t see you getting your license fixed.”

  “What’s it like always being able to reach the tall cabinets?” My voice may have been wistful. My kitchen would double in usable storage if I were only two or three inches taller. As it was, step ladders got as much use in the kitchen as knives and forks.

  He shrugged. “Good? I don’t really think about it that much.”

  “Do you think the whole world is just really tiny? Is it like living in a doll house?”

  “I’m not that tall. By football standards, I’m actually rather short.” He flashed his white smile at me.

  I snorted into my drink and Ward laughed at me. “Yes, so very short,” I teased when I recovered my composure. “I’m surprised they let you play at all.”

  “What’s it like being so tiny?” Ward asked, turning my question back at me. “Is it like living in a world of giants?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted, shaking my head in chagrin. The world was not set up for tiny people like me. “It is. You know I’m too short to work a forklift? I also can’t be a Rockette, a ballerina, a professional cheerleader, an astronaut, a police officer, or a fighter pilot.”

  “You’d be a really cute little astronaut,” Ward said, shaking his head. “I have a bit of a thing for petite girls,” he admitted, looking me up and down appreciatively.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Compared to you, pretty much all girls except WNBA players and fashion models are petite.”

  Ward seemed to realize this for the first time. “Yeah, you know that’s true. I’ve only met a handful that are even close to my height. You actually might be onto something there. Maybe I just like short girls. Or maybe Jessie just ruined me.”

  “Oh, is she super tall?” I couldn’t help asking. Ward made a face.

  “Yeah. I mean, not weirdly tall or anything. But tall. Six feet give or take.”

  “Wow, that is incredibly tall for a woman. I would trade IQ points for inches to be that tall.” I tried to imagine a life being six feet tall but couldn’t. “Was she a model or something?”

  “Yes. A model and professional volleyball player.”

  “How glamorous,” I heard myself saying somewhat enviously. Ward winced. “We can talk about something else,” I added. “I didn’t mean to pry into your business.” I shook my head to try and dispel the mental image I was developing of a towering Amazon wearing super-fashionable clothes while she broke Ward’s heart as he lay in a hospital bed. What a bitch. The worst part was that I knew I’d be looking her up on the internet later, trying to find pictures of her and Ward together. My curiosity could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. At least when I’d been pretending like I didn’t know Ward Williams, I’d been able to avoid all the Googling. Now I seemed to spend all my free time on Wikipedia.

  For his part, Ward just shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge. We’re both lucky that things worked out the way they did. If we’d gotten married before I got injured—or god forbid had a few kids—it would have been a thousand times worse.”

  “Yeah, you’re definitely right about that,” I told Ward. “My parents got a divorce when I was in middle school. It really did a number on my self-esteem for a while. No matter what they tell you in family therapy, the kid still feels like it’s their fault.”

  “I’m sorry, Emma,” Ward said. “That really sucks.”

  I shrugged and took a sip of my drink before I replied. It had sucked. “It was a long time ago. They get a
long better as friends than they ever did when they were married. I’m glad they did what was best for them as people, rather than trying to stay together for me. I’d much rather have two functional parents than two angry ones.”

  “I get that,” Ward told me. Then he added, “which is just one of the many reasons I’ll never get married or have kids. I’d be too afraid to screw them up.”

  “You really think you’ll never do those things?” I asked. “I promise I’m not judging, I’m just not sure what I’ll be doing next Tuesday, let alone five years from now, or ten. For all I know in ten years I’ll have joined one of those weird cults where men have multiple wives, and everyone dresses like pilgrims. Maybe I’ll end up having eight kids and three sister wives.” Granted, that was highly unlikely, but there was still technically a non-zero chance.

  “Something tells me you’d be a terrible cult member,” Ward joked. Then his expression turned more serious. “But it’s not like I’ll just wake up one day and be a married father of three. There would be warning bells.”

  “Warning bells?” My now-alcohol influenced brain imagined tornado sirens going off as Ward approached a jewelry store.

  “Yeah. I mean I’d have to, you know, get myself into a long-term relationship and stuff. As long as I avoid relationships, I figure I’m safe.”

  “That does seem like a sound enough plan,” I murmured, shaking my head.

  “It’s worked so far,” he said, shrugging. “Besides, it lets me spend time with lovely, fascinating women with whom I am totally and completely incompatible. Like you.”

  I blinked and smiled. I tried not to let that sting and failed spectacularly. Ward must have seen it on my face. His lips parted, and his brow furrowed.

  “I didn’t mean anything—” he started, but I shook my head.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told him, getting up and rounding the breakfast bar to set my glass in the sink. “Long-term commitment isn’t what I’m after either.” I winked at him.

  He laughed, and I saw the moment when he decided not to push it. It was probably for the best.

  “And what are you after?” He asked, moving close enough to drop his own empty glass next to mine and tip my head up to face him.

  “I’ll give you three guesses. No matter what you say, I know you’re clever. I bet you can guess.”

  29

  Emma

  “Are you looking for… expert fishing instruction?” Ward teased, taking another half step toward me. Even under the nasty fluorescent lighting of my kitchen, his blue eyes were hypnotic.

  “If I was, I wouldn’t ask you,” I told him haughtily. “All you taught me to do was catch somebody’s old nasty shoe.”

  “Fair enough. Well then, are you looking for… someone to help you appreciate the exceedingly interesting and culturally relevant sport of football?” His voice had dropped a half octave and gotten softer, more seductive. I felt a smile spreading over my face and warmth starting in my center.

  “Um, no. But look at you use those big words again. I must be rubbing off on you.” I was close enough now to touch him, but I didn’t. Not yet.

  “Oh no, I’m down to my very last guess,” Ward said dramatically. “Well, let’s see. You don’t want me for my fishing experience. You don’t want me for my football knowledge. That means you must want me for my… skill at art appreciation.”

  I giggled. “Yep,” I managed, “that’s it. Your skill at art appreciation.” I nodded seriously.

  “I know art when I see it,” Ward told me with matching seriousness. “I am highly skilled at appreciating beauty.” He ran a finger down my cheek to my jaw, tipping my face from side to side. “And I know just what to do with it when I find it.”

  My lips found his a second later, cutting off whatever his next smooth line was. His lips curved into a smile against mine, and I found myself pinned against the refrigerator a second after with his hands on my waist. He was sweet and insistent, teasing my tongue with his and erasing any insecurity or second-guessing. Thoughts in general receded to the edges of my mind, where I could deal with them later.

  “Give me back my shirt,” he whispered against my lips.

  In that moment, any other thoughts were just a waste of effort. My focus was entirely on Ward, and on sensation. His hands left my waist to lift the hem of his t-shirt that fit me like a mini-dress. I raised my arms and let him pull it off me, exposing my naked skin to the cool air in the kitchen. I was down to just the thong. My nipples hardened instantly, and the cool of the fridge against my ass and back was broken only by his warm hands.

  “This shirt looks better on you,” he admitted, holding the t-shirt in his left hand before dropping on the tired linoleum floor of my kitchen. “But you look better naked.”

  I tugged on his boxer-clad hips, pulling him closer and feeling the length of his erection press against me. His hard, thick cock didn’t intimidate me anymore. Now that I’d been reacquainted with what a good fit we were, despite the differences in our heights, I just ached for him. My curious fingers dipped below his elastic waistband, seeking and finding exactly what I wanted.

  I pulled him free and stroked him with both hands, looking up into his wide, eager eyes. His breathing sped up as I while I played with him and leaned up on my tippy-toes to kiss his neck with little nips and heard it coming even faster. His abdominal muscles tensed and rolled under his soft skin and he rolled his hips forward, thrusting into my grip. It made me feel powerful to see him reacting to my touch like this. Maybe it wasn’t forever, but at least for now, Ward was mine. It felt especially exciting and transgressive to be doing this in the kitchen. Although Lily wasn’t around, this was still very private act in a public space.

  Before I could get too carried away, he stilled my hands and knelt. His long fingers rolled my thong down my hips and off my legs. I kicked it away to join the t-shirt in the middle of the floor. I was already more than turned on enough to take him, but he had other ideas. He lifted my right leg wide over his left shoulder, exposing me. The cool air of the kitchen rushed between my legs, but only for a moment, since his hot tongue found me a moment later.

  I leaned back against the fridge, overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth on me. I’d had guys go down on me before, but it was never like this. Ward took things slow at first, reading my reactions. Learning me. He used his fingers to spread me even wider, finding my clit with his tongue and gently teasing around it, not putting any pressure where he knew it might overwhelm me until I was pressing my hips forward. Then he finally kissed me there, pushing against me with his tongue while he worked two fingers inside of my dripping, desperate pussy.

  I’d never thought it would be possible for me to climax this way, but my body was telling me that I definitely could. I felt my pleasure building inside, lick by gentle lick. It was almost too much, but I wanted it. I needed it. I leaned up and back, arching, seeking release from the growing pressure. Noises were coming from my throat that weren’t even close to being words. When my climax hit I was up on my tiptoes, fucking Ward’s mouth and shaking like a leaf. He kept touching me, stroking in and out with those two fingers while I came down—clearly, we weren’t done yet.

  Now that I’d come, I felt cold and exposed. I shivered, and Ward was wrapping his arms around me again in an instant, kissing me with a tongue that tasted like me. There was a time that I might have found the taste unpleasant, but in the heat of the moment it was unbelievably sexy. His mouth had just worshipped me, just fucked me until I came for him. It was the sweetest taste in the world.

  My wetness returned in a rush when his cock brushed against me. He’d been so patient, making sure I came first. It was only fair that he got some reward for his efforts.

  “My turn,” I whispered, shifting us so it was his back against the fridge. He looked down at me eagerly, and I folded his t-shirt underneath my knees as I settled down in front of him. I had no idea what I was going to do with so much cock, but there was no time like the presen
t to find out.

  I licked the tip eagerly, staring up at him while I did so. I delivered gentle, slow thrusts at first, shallowly sucking him and lavishing attention on the head. His hands buried themselves in my hair, and it looked like he was holding himself back from pulling me forward. So, I did it for him, drawing him between my lips and back down my tongue to the back of my throat. I swallowed hard when I felt my gag reflex start to react and was rewarded with an impressed moan from Ward. He liked that? Cosmo was right. I did it again. He definitely liked that.

  I sucked on him with a greedy, eager rhythm, but he didn’t let me control things for very long. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me. Soon he was guiding me forward with a fistful of my hair, fucking my face more and more forcefully. Like he owned it. I was shocked that I was able to take the whole thing, but it was mind over matter. I wanted to do it, so I did. I wanted so badly to please him, and so I made it possible. He clearly appreciated it, warning me each time that he was going to pull me deeply onto his cock with a little squeeze on my hair.

  I could feel his climax coming, see it in the way his body tensed. When the thick rope of come hit the back of my throat he swore foully and clenched his eyes closed. I swallowed down every drop, content and exhausted. My jaw was probably going to ache tomorrow, but I felt like I’d just won the dick sucking Olympics.

  My legs were unsteady when I got back to my feet, but I didn’t have to walk. Perhaps sensing that I was about to collapse back down to the floor, or perhaps just because he could, Ward scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom. He settled me into the bed and slid in next to me, like two nesting spoons.

  “Now you can’t tell me that wasn’t art,” Ward whispered to me eventually. I was almost asleep.