by Sara Cate
“Okay then.” I keep waiting for him to take the lead, tear off my clothes or something, but he doesn’t. So, I walk up to him instead and reach for the buttons of his shirt. His hands snatch mine before I can get one undone.
“Sit with me.”
“We really don’t have to—"
“Sit down, Hanna.” A chill runs down my spine as I silently obey him, moving toward the couch. As I take a seat, I look up to him, waiting for him to sit too.
When he finally takes the spot next to me, he still doesn’t move to kiss me. What is his deal? Instead, he leans his arm along the back of the sofa and looks at me.
I reach for his pants, thinking maybe he wants me to take the lead.
“Stop.”
I pull my hands away.
“Ellis, I don’t need you to be polite about this. We don’t have to pretend we didn’t both come here to fuck.”
“That’s not why I came here, Hanna.”
I let out a sigh and a sarcastic laugh. “Why are you fucking with me right now?”
“Because I like you, and I want to know what has you acting like this.”
My eyes widen, and I pull away, ready to snap at him, but his hand reaches out, grasping the back of my neck as he pulls me forward. Our lips hover an inch apart as he stares into my eyes.
“So, what is it? Why are you so eager to get me into bed?”
“Is the fact I’m attracted to you not enough?” I ask. A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth.
“I’m attracted to you too, but you don’t see me trying to fuck you like it means nothing,” he replies.
“Oh, it definitely wouldn’t mean nothing to me,” I whisper. “Don’t tell me you never have meaningless sex. I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Not with people I like.”
Finally, he pulls my face toward him, closing the distance and pressing his soft lips to mine. First, it’s a gentle kiss, our lips locking in warmth and velvet until his tongue slips through, stroking mine in a soft friction that lights a small spark behind my ribcage.
He kisses me for a long time, holding my head like I’m some small fragile thing. I melt into his embrace, crawling onto his lap while he takes his time with his mouth exploring mine. I can’t remember the last time I just kissed someone, making out like we’re teenagers, but suddenly I’m in no hurry to do anything else.
When his lips move from mine to trail kisses along my jaw and down to my neck, I forget my own name. Letting out a soft hum, I suddenly get hungry to have him touch me. For the first time in almost a year, my body is warm, but the arousal hasn’t quite reached my panties yet. It’s like my heart and body is warmed up but nothing is going on down there.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I pant.
And just like that he stops kissing me.
“I’m not going to fuck you.” His words are like ice. I pull away in a rush.
“What? Why?”
He touches my cheek softly. “Patience, Hanna.”
“Fuck patience.”
“Why the hurry?”
“I can feel your cock against my leg and it’s rock hard. Why on earth would we wait?”
He laughs, actually fucking laughs, and I want to scream. Then, he puts his hands on my hips and presses me against his erection, grinding me on him with a groan. “Trust me, I want it too, but you are worth the wait.”
I freeze, looking into his eyes. After last night with Nash, this feels like a cruel joke. One man has no patience. The other has too much.
“Tell me what happened between you and Nash,” he whispers, tucking a strand of curls behind my ear as I shift off of his lap to put a little distance between us. If he’s not going to fuck me, being so close to him feels like a tease…and too intimate.
“You first,” I reply, and this time it’s his turn to flinch.
“What makes you think there’s anything between us?” he asks.
“I’m not blind. He hates you, and Nash only bothers to hate people he cares about.”
There’s a deep rumble of short laughter from his chest. “That’s a good way to put it.”
“So, tell me.”
“Just old friends, that’s all.”
“And why does he hate you?”
He strokes my fingers in his hand. “Nash is jealous and hot-tempered. You can figure out the rest.” Then he kisses my knuckles, and I melt. Looking up at me, he adds, “So Nash told me you were off limits, but what I heard last night says something else.”
Oh great. I was worried he heard everything that happened before he found me crawling out of the pool without underwear on. “You heard that? It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.” My voice trails. What do I say? There is no word for what happened between us. It wasn’t quite consensual enough to be sex, but it wasn’t anything worse than that. I just wish it had been on better terms.
And now talking about it with the guy I’m currently trying to have very consensual sex with feels wrong, and well, it’s not making me feel very good about myself.
“Have you two slept together?” he asks.
“No,” I answer, assuming him assaulting me with his mouth doesn’t count. “Zara is my best friend…and we really shouldn’t have…”
He lets out a sigh, as my gaze drifts across the room, focusing on nothing at all. The moonlight streaming through the window, soft sound of the air conditioner, the feel of Ellis’s soft hands on my fingers.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and my gaze jolts back to his face.
“Oh, nothing. I was just…zoning out, I guess.”
Gently reclining on the couch, I pull my feet up to the couch, and he takes them into his lap, looking down at me as if there is a sudden intimacy between us. It’s easy comfort, and I’m almost glad we didn’t immediately have sex. It’d probably be over by now and he’d be wanting to leave, or I’d be wishing I hadn’t rushed things.
But him looking at me, actually looking at me, it’s better than sex.
“So, about Zara…” he says, and my attention perks again.
“You both seem to be protecting her feelings so much. I can understand she’s your best friend, but Nash…why does he care so much?”
“How much of that story do you know?” I ask, squinting at him before I continue.
“All of it.”
“Okay, good. Then, you know for a while, he was a part of that relationship. And then…he wasn’t anymore. So, I almost wonder if it’s Zara he’s still stuck on, but the bond between them. All of them.”
“A little strange, don’t you think?”
Feeling suddenly sleepy, I rest my head against the arm of the couch, and focus on the feel of his hands along my ankles and then my calves. “Who’s to say what’s normal and strange? Nash is probably too much for one person anyway.”
He laughs again, but then the room grows quiet as he strokes my legs, and his gentle touch is the last thing I remember before sleep takes me.
11
It’s well after midnight when I hear Ellis coming back in from Hanna’s guest house. Watching him cross the yard toward the house, I’m seething, anger building from thinking about them together. I’m sitting in the living room when he sneaks in, the lights still on so he knows I’m there. After stepping in, he takes one look at me, showing no emotion as he passes through.
“I told you she was off limits,” I snarl. He freezes in the doorway, glaring at me with a cold, cynical expression.
“Since when do I take orders from you?”
“This isn’t a joke, Ellis,” I snap, standing up and crossing the room to get in his face. He’s so fucking smug, like he knows everything. I used to admire that about him. Now I hate it. I hate his confidence, and I especially hate how he has me so pegged, like he thinks he knows me.
“Does it look like I’m fucking joking, Nash?”
“You are a joke,” I mutter. Okay maybe that was the vodka talking, and I completely deserve the harsh, hateful glare he sends
me. He should punch me. Knock me out. I would, but he doesn’t because this is Ellis, the calm, collected man who never loses control. Well, almost never.
“Fuck off, Nash.” It’s all he gives me before he tries to leave, but I’m not ready yet. I still have so much I need to say, things I need to get off my chest.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I shout at him, crowding him toward the corner of the room.
“You’re the same reckless kid you were three years ago, Nash. You don’t deserve a woman like her, and after what I heard last night, she’s better off in my hands.”
The next moment is a blur as I drive my forearm against his throat and shove him against the wall.
“This isn’t Amsterdam. I used to think you were a fucking god, now all I see is a lonely man with no one because he never got over the one person he couldn’t have. You’re pathetic.”
He snarls at me, and I think for a moment he’s not going to fight back. His eyes are glued on mine, and I get lost in those dark brown orbs. Memories come flooding back. This was my friend. I trusted him, and he blinded me. He manipulated me at a time when I was vulnerable, and I gave in. And now, my stupid, naive heart thuds a little harder in my chest as he has the fucking nerve to look hurt. No, he doesn’t get to be hurt. Not after what he did to me.
My grip against his throat loosens, and before I know it, he gains control, grabbing my arm and in a struggle, he manages to get it behind my back, flipping me around and shoving me against the couch. He’s pressed behind me as he folds me over the back. I let out a snarl as I fight him, but every time I move, he shoves my arm up farther, sending a jolt of electric pain through my shoulder.
“Calm the fuck down,” he says, using that deep authoritative voice I remember so clearly.
“You want to call me pathetic?” he says, seething as I feel his lips against my ear. “I’m not the one in denial here, Nash. You can blame me all you want for what happened, but you know as well as I do you fucking liked it. I’m not going to make you feel better about how much you loved my cock, Nash, and I’m sure as fuck not going to put up with your little tantrums about it. You walked out of my life, and I didn’t follow you, just like you asked. So why did you hire me, huh?”
“Did you tell her about us?” I ask.
He winds his arm around my throat, pulling me up so I’m flush against his body. I hate the way my heart nearly drops to the floor with that familiar old feel of his rippled chest and thick biceps. I hate the way I love it.
Then he whispers harshly into my ear. “No, I didn’t fucking tell her. Because when I’m with her, we don’t talk about you.”
I jerk against his hold again, but then I feel something warm and wet run a long line from my shoulder to my ear, and I realize it’s his tongue. My body freezes in his hold.
“Hundred bucks says you’re harder than cement right now,” he whispers, his warm breath against my ear. “Can I check?”
I grunt against him, but he’s got a vice grip on my neck, cutting off my ability to speak. I can barely breathe as it is, but I’m not sure that’s from the chokehold.
Then, he releases my arm, and slides his hand down my chest. I shudder as he reaches the front of my pants, and no matter how much I fight, I can’t get away. Before I know it, he’s cupping my dick, and as he predicted, it’s hard as stone.
A low groan hums against my back as he squeezes me tighter, both around my neck and cock. Suddenly I lose the will to fight, and I find myself shoving into his hand, grinding it against the back of the couch.
“Is this my fault too? How much you love my hand on your cock?”
“Fuck you,” I mutter. This is totally his fucking fault. He gets in my head, making me think some shit that was never there before. I’m not attracted to dudes, and I’ve never wanted dick before, but all of a sudden Ellis gets a hold of me, and my body can’t fight how fucking good it feels.
“No, Nash. More like fuck you.” He thrusts his hips against me, his thick erection shoved into the crevice of my ass.
“Get the fuck off of me, Ellis.”
“If I let you go, can you agree to stop being such an asshole to me? Can you just fucking listen to me?”
“All I do is listen to you.”
He thrusts me against the couch again. “Say it,” he seethes in my ear. “Or I swear I’ll jack you off right here. You’ll love every second of it and hate yourself for it.”
I growl against him, trying to shift out of his hold, but the more I do, the more friction there is against my cock, and I’m weak to it. A part of me wishes he would unbutton my pants and wrap that big hand around me, squeezing it so tight I could barely manage to come, but he’s right. I’d hate myself for it.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“What was that?” he replies in a dark, teasing tone.
“Yes.” Fuck, please don’t make me say it.
“Yes, what?”
I struggle again. “Just fucking let me go.”
With a laugh, he says, “Fine.” And with that, he releases me. I feel the absence immediately, mostly the pressure against my dick. He pulls away slowly, and I turn around to see the tent he’s pitched in his pants. I remember the way it felt in my hands, among other places. The memory of it hits me so hard, I have to force myself to swallow and look away.
“You can touch it if you want,” he says with a smirk, and I glance up at him.
No, I don’t want to touch it.
“Fuck you.”
“You really hate me, don’t you?”
When I look at him again, I see that pain again, and it makes me seethe with hatred. He doesn’t get to hurt. Not when he’s gotten the best of me. Not when I’ve spent the last three years of my life in constant torture, unable to wrap my head around how he made me bend so easily. How he had me right where he wanted me.
“Just stay away from Hanna.”
“Do you have feelings for her?” he asks coolly.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” I snap back at him.
“Be careful with her, Nash. Whatever she’s been through, it’s broken her, but I see a strong woman trying to build herself back up. Whatever you do, don’t push her back down. She’ll make it easy for you.”
I can feel my nostrils flare as I remember what I did to her last night. I hate that he’s right. She will make it easy. Hanna will follow the path of least resistance, even if it sends her down into a spiral. How the fuck does he think he knows what she needs more than me? He’s known her for two days.
“You don’t think I know that? The last thing she needs is two assholes fighting over her. So, you leave her alone, and I will too.”
“I’m not going to fuck her, but I’m not going to leave her alone,” he says, and I feel my spine straighten.
“You didn’t…?”
“No, I didn’t fuck her. She wanted me to, but I did her one better.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask, expecting him to tell me how he gave her a better orgasm than I did or some shit.
But as he turns away and moves toward the hallway where his room is, he calls back over his shoulder, “I listened.”
12
The sound of the helicopter approaching pulls my attention from my laptop. Nash is going over the budget, again, when he looks up too, and I hear him mutter a curse.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“My dad,” he mumbles, his voice taking on a thickness I haven’t heard yet.
The last few days he’s been acting almost civil toward me. I know he still blames me for what happened in Amsterdam, as if being someone he was attracted to was somehow my fault. I bore the brunt of that blame for three years. It’s nothing new to me now.
But I could also feel him peeling back a little bit of that pain and showing the real Nash underneath.
“Did you know he was coming?” I ask.
“No.”
He looks back down at his computer, ignoring the presence of his father and his new wife standing outside
. I watch as Hanna approaches them, going first to Alistair to give him a quick embrace. Then, she goes to Zara, tucking herself at her side as they walk toward the main house.
Alistair turns the opposite way and comes to the office. When he pulls open the door, we both look up.
“Working on a Saturday?” he asks, eyebrows raised and gaze leveled on Nash. I toss him an easy smile as I lean back in my chair.
“I’ve tried talking him into a break, but he won’t listen to me. So good luck.”
“Well, he’s certainly not going to listen to me.” Alistair walks over to see what he is working on, and I watch as Nash stiffens in his seat, his jaw clenched as his father looks over the budget on the screen.
“Thalia prepared lunch for us. Let’s go eat and we can talk.”
“Again, don’t you guys have a new baby? Do you ever spend any time with her?”
Alistair rolls his eyes. “I have a son too, and sometimes I like to spend time with him, so put the work away and come eat with us.”
“Let’s go, Nash,” I say, standing up from the desk. He finally shuts his laptop, and stands along with me. There’s a curious flinch in Alistair’s brow as he notices the way his son listens to me, and not him, and I notice it. We all notice it.
And fuck me, I like it.
The patio is set with lunch as we approach. Hanna and Zara are already sitting across from each other with cocktails in their hands. Hanna looks up at me with a spark in her eye. For reasons I don’t understand, I wink at her, sending her a warm smile. It became clear after the talk we had the other night there is an instant chemistry between us, an easy comfort, and I find myself looking forward to the few moments each night we have to talk. Hanna is genuine, smart, and I want to know the depths of her. What I see on the surface is a woman who is at war with herself while hiding the confidence I know she has. I’d like to change that.
I met Alistair’s new wife on the day he flew me out to Del Rey, but she sends me a smile and greeting anyway. Zara is a beautiful girl, and I see how well she complements him, but I also have to bite back my judgement. I don’t blame her for what happened with Nash, but I was the one who picked up the pieces after it all went down, so it’s hard not to reserve at least a little judgement.