Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Liam
The drive home was…distracting. Hemi kept his hand on my knee as I drove, rubbing circles around and around, causing me to hit the kerb for the first time since I passed my licence. And that time Daisy screeched when she saw a group of dogs being walked with rainbow coloured leads.
My lips still tingle and buzz from his. I kissed him. And he kissed me back. Me. The reclusive writer who watches him on TV when he plays in front of thousands of people.
I can’t believe it. It doesn’t make any sense, but I grin when Hemi rubs his hands over my shoulders, squeezing gently and massaging my sore muscles while he waits for me to unlock the front door.
Walking back from the second lookout, he’d brushed my hand, fixed strands of hair tickling my eyes, and stole kisses when there were less people on the track. As if once I showed my interest, he couldn’t stop himself from the small touches.
My cheeks hurt from smiling.
I open the door, hold it for Hemi, and slip my shoes off, wrinkling my nose at the smell.
My cheeks heat, but Hemi is probably used to it from the sheds with the rest of the team after practice or a game, so I ignore it and stride to the kitchen.
I gulp water and pant when I finish draining the glass.
Arms wrap around my chest and waist from behind, and Hemi rests his head in the crook of my neck.
He holds me tightly and presses a soft kiss to my jaw.
I turn in his arms, and when Hemi smiles at me, I swipe my thumbs across his cheekbones.
“I’m gonna shower, okay? Then maybe we could make dinner together?
” I ask. We grabbed groceries on the way home, and Hemi mentioned wanting to cook.
It’s only the afternoon, but I’m tired enough to eat early and go to bed.
“I’d like that.” Hemi kisses my forehead, and his arms drop from me.
I shiver, not realising his arms were keeping me warm, but I’m desperate to change into my normal clothes and out of sweaty sports clothes I never wear.
And probably need time to think through whatever is happening between us.
I’m assuming it’s just for the week while he’s here recovering.
He lives in Auckland and is a famous rugby player. Well, famous in New Zealand.
And…that’s fine. If it’s just for the seven days we have left, I’ll soak up what I can.
I pad to the hallway and head for my room, but pause when Hemi says, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
I shoot him a smile. “Good.”
After my shower, I pull on my softest pyjamas and find Hemi in the kitchen with damp hair, wearing a green T-shirt that highlights his hazel eyes and black track pants.
I must have taken longer in the shower than I realised if Hemi is already in the kitchen, clean from his own shower, and a spread of ingredients lying on the bench.
I round the bench and stand beside him, glancing at the food. “Sorry I took so long. What are we making?”
Hemi slings his arm around my waist. “I thought we could live out your tavern dreams and make stew.”
I gulp. My tavern dreams? Does that involve the other part of the dream, because I was mostly joking about that. I’m not necessarily into being pounded. It has to be with the right person. After a lot of prep and trust.
I meet Hemi’s hazel eyes. But I have a feeling I’d enjoy it with him. Having his body cover mine and fuck me into the mattress. Skin on skin, his breath brushing my lips. I shiver and shake my head when blood rushes downward.
“Okay,” I croak and step away from Hemi before my dick takes more interest. Turns out Hemi is a touchy person after he kisses someone, which I would enjoy except I don’t want to make him uncomfortable when he notices my dick pointing straight at him if that’s not what he wants.
Just kissing is fine, but I need to take the edge off.
I should have jerked one out in the shower, but after standing in the water contemplating my life choices and attempting to figure out if I had really kissed him, I’d taken too long.
I swear if he keeps touching me, I’ll come in my pants. Which I don’t think a good host would do.
Hemi doesn’t take offence when I step away from him but grins at me, and hands me a carrot. “Chop chop, darling.”
I take the cold, phallic-shaped vegetable from him and flush. Jesus. With the amount of blood flowing from my heart, I’ll cark it right here on the kitchen floor. And it will be the rugby player’s fault.
I take the knife handed to me and chop the carrot in half, the sides rolling to either side of the wooden cutting board in listless despair.
Hemi laughs. “Unless you’re feeling adventurous, I’d cut it smaller than that.”
My mouth drops open and I choke. “Are you trying to kill me?” I mutter and slice the carrot properly.
Hemi doesn’t respond but smirks to himself as he focuses on dicing mushrooms. It’s for the best. If he directed that smirk at me, we wouldn’t get to the stew.
We dice and slice vegetables, herbs, and meat, and dump it all into a pot, covering it in stock.
“We’ll leave it for a few hours and can eat snacks while we wait,” Hemi says, covering the pot with a lid and setting the stove to a low heat.
He opens the pantry and pulls out crackers, apples, and oranges from the fruit bowl. Hemi piles them on the bench and grabs cheese from the fridge, and begins to cut everything, displaying it carefully on a clean cutting board.
“Go sit.”
“You don’t want help?” I ask, reaching for a knife.
He shakes his head. “Sit.” And points his knife at the table, and I sit, my legs twinging at the movement.
I’m going to pay for all this activity tomorrow, but it will have been worth it.
Hemi looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, including on TV.
His shoulders aren’t by his ears, and his face is smooth of lines, his lips soft and plush instead of pursed.
Sore legs are definitely worth it for how calm he looks.
Hemi places the board filled with food on the table and puts a glass of water in front of me, and beside it some juice. I raise an eyebrow in question.
“You need food and sugar for energy,” he explains.
Warmth spreads through my chest, and my fingers tingle as I reach for a cracker and some cheese. He’s looking after me. He didn’t need to do any of this. Could have fucked me and moved on with his life. Instead, he’s spoiling me with thoughtful snacks and making dinner, and we haven’t even had sex.
It’s so considerate of him. Like something Daisy would do for me.
I swallow my mouthful and wash it down with water, and follow it with juice when Hemi points at it insistently. He’s already finished his glass.
We eat quietly, content in each other’s presence, and finish the food and drinks quickly.
I sigh and sit back in my chair, rubbing an absent hand over my shoulder, digging a thumb into the muscle, and stare out the window.
It’s a good thing we got home when we did, rain taps the window, gentle now, but the dark grey clouds don’t look good.
“What’s wrong?” Hemi asks, jolting me out of my thoughts. I meet his concerned gaze. His eyebrows are pulled tight over his nose.
“What do you mean?”
“Your shoulder.”
“Oh.” I huff sheepishly. “Nothing. I’m not used to physical exercise in any form.” I avoid his eyes and twist the empty glass of water on the table. “I’m just a bit sore.”
His frown darkens. “Just your shoulder or other places, too?”
I shrug. “It’s fine. Maybe I should do stretches or something.” Not that I know any.
“Do you have a bath?”
“Huh?” My eyes dart to his, surprised by the random question.
“A bath,” Hemi repeats.
“Yeah, I have a bath.”
Hemi slaps his hands on the table and stands. “Great. You’re having one.”
“What?” I splutter.
“It will help relax your muscles, and I’m assuming you don’t want an ice bath, so we’ll do warm.”
“We?” I choke. The quiet man from the airport has disappeared, and now he’s ordering me around.
Hemi tugs my chair away from the table and pulls me up. “Yeah, I’ll run you a bath. And that’s a no to an ice bath?” My face scrunches at the thought. Hemi bites his lip against a smile he can’t hide. “Didn’t think so.”
“Will a bath really help that much?” It’s a dangerous enough thought to have him walking through my room without pushing him onto the bed, let alone having him in my bathroom, drawing me a bath I’ll be naked in. Knowing he did it for me to make sure I’m comfortable tomorrow.
“It’s better than nothing.” Hemi slips his hand into mine and when I point out my bedroom, tugs me down the hall.
The door’s open and he enters my space confidently, notices the ensuite door instantly, and walks through it with me trailing behind him.
He doesn’t even pause to look at my bedroom.
Should I be worried he isn’t interested in my room?
The walls are a rich dark brown, and the bedding is cream with splashes of tan and rust to create a moody space.
I was quite proud of it when I finished it.
Hemi plugs the bath and turns the tap on hot, sprinkling the bath salts sitting on the rim into the water.
The sound of gushing water echoes in the room, and Hemi turns to me, looking satisfied with himself, and glances around the bathroom.
I decorated the walls with turquoise tiles and light grey for the floor and behind the sink.
Hemi sits on the rim of the bath. “I like that your house is colourful.”
A smile lights my face. He has noticed each room is a different colour. “You do?”
“Yeah. It reminds me of the house I grew up in. Mum’s an artist and always had paintings on the walls and would rotate the ones she had.
She had a bright gold one in the living room inspired by Klimt.
She’s in a smaller place now, but she’s managed to find places for all her paintings.
” He smiles faintly and shakes his head.
“My place in Auckland is hospital white and corporate black. I miss colour. Your place feels like home.”