Fourteen #3
I inhale sharply. Jesus, it isn’t fair, how he can not only see right through me, but fucking crawl inside my head and sift through my thoughts until he finds exactly what he wants to know.
‘He used to get irritated,’ I quietly start, and, I swear to God, it’s as if he’s pulling the words out of me, ‘when I didn’t wanna, like, let loose and party in the off-season.
When I wanted to stay in and study instead.
Always asked why I bothered studying when I had swimming, like he couldn’t fathom that I just liked doing it.
Sometimes I think I like it more than I like swimming because it doesn’t feel as hard.
I’m just good at it. Like you’re good at—’
‘Everything?’
Deadpan, I peek up at from beneath my lashes. ‘Being an egotistical dick.’
Heath clunks his forehead against mine. ‘All I just heard was good and dick.’
I make up for the laugh that sneaks out against my will by digging my knuckles into his solar plexus. I try to push off him, away from him, but those muscular thighs tighten, keep me exactly where I am. ‘I thought you had a sports scholarship.’
‘And I thought you knew everything,’ I toss back. ‘No. Academic.’
His fingers dance up my arm, chuck beneath my chin. ‘My little genius.’
The praise flushes me hot. Burns the attitude right out of me.
The instinctual defensiveness holding me taut slowly subsides, and as the steel rod in my spine melts, my body does too.
I wish I could blame the wine for how completely I slump against Heath, but I would be lying.
It isn’t alcohol making me drunk, but the sincere apologies and sweet praise.
Such a damn novelty, they make me dizzy.
As my cheek finds the hard plane of his chest, his touch curls around to my nape. Flutters down my spine to the very base, where it dips beneath the waistband of my pants to palm bare skin. ‘I just don’t get it, Dani,’ he murmurs against the top of my head. ‘Why you stayed with him for so long.’
I offer the same, paltry excuse I gave his friends. ‘It was easier.’
‘Than?’
‘Breaking up,’ I say, my tongue working of its own volition, spilling secrets. ‘Being alone.’
His heart thumps beneath my cheek. A rapid staccato, such a contrast to his smooth, rumbling, ‘You lonely, Daniela?’
‘I like being alone.’
‘Not what I asked.’
I don’t really know the answer. I do know that it’s complicated. And I know that when I reel back just enough to peer up at him, to meet the gaze already trained on me, I’m telling the truth when I say, ‘I’m not right now.’
‘Good.’ Fingers slip beneath my shirt and drag a slow path to the curve of my ribcage, blunt nails tickling my sides. ‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’
‘I don’t think anyone has ever made me more comfortable,’ I admit. Because it’s the truth, and I think he deserves to know it.
A rough noise rumbles deep in his chest.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just . . . thinking.’
‘About?’
His gaze zones in on my mouth. He swallows. ‘Dark hallways.’
My breath catches. ‘Oh.’
With laser focus, he watches the unsteady rise and fall of my chest. He touches it, his palm pressing between my collarbones, fingers splayed wide. ‘I have a theory.’
Keep it to yourself, my common sense urges. Every other part of me is responsible for a low ‘Go on.’
His hum is a frustrating denial. ‘You’re gonna spook.’
‘Don’t bring things up, Belfort, if you’re not brave enough to follow through.’
‘You know how many times I watched Ben kiss you?’
‘Considering your stalker tendencies, I’m gonna go with a lot.’
He grunts. ‘I watched Ben,’ he repeats, he emphasizes, ‘kiss you. It was never you kissing him.’
My cheeks flush, and his thumb swipes over one of them, like he’s trying to rub the crimson stain away. ‘It wasn’t never.’
‘It was barely ever. And you never kissed him like you kiss me.’
‘I was never putting on a show.’
‘See, I don’t think that’s it. I don’t think – no, I know, there isn’t anything wrong with you. You’re not the problem.’
‘So my subconsciousness was so repulsed by Ben, it sabotaged my libido? That’s your theory?’
‘Just saying it didn’t feel very sabotaged with me.’
‘Sounds like an egotistical theory.’
‘I’d call it wishful thinking.’
‘What’re you wishing for, exactly?’
He looks at my mouth again – I’m already staring at his. It holds all of my attention, is the focal point of my thoughts. I wish I could blame the wine, I wish I could blame anything other than plain old human want, but I want that mouth.
I think, if not for the sound of the front door slamming shut, I might’ve taken it.
Instead, as dual feminine voices call out greetings, I try valiantly to get the hell away from that mouth. But, once again, Heath won’t let me go anywhere.
‘Your sister’s gonna think we were doing something,’ I protest, as I try to wriggle free, casting a panicked glance at the doorway, waiting for the sounds of Saylor and Lyla shedding their outdoor layers to become the sounds of them walking down the hall.
Heath grunts, hands vice-like on my hips. ‘She’s gonna know we were doing something if you don’t cover me.’
‘We weren’t—’ My mouth snaps shut so fast, my teeth clink together. Before I can stop myself, I look down. Briefly. Barely. Just long enough to get an eyeful of the bulge tenting his sweats, and then I’m looking literally anywhere else.
The ceiling is getting a pretty healthy dose of my attention when Heath chuckles roughly. ‘Nothing sabotaged about my libido either, Williams. Not when it comes to you.’
A sick little thread of satisfaction makes a mess out of me – it dies a painful death the moment Saylor saunters into the kitchen, a knowing quirk to her mouth, her hands braced against her daughter’s shoulders, holding her back. ‘Are we interrupting something?’
Maybe my squeaky ‘nope’ would be more convincing if it wasn’t contending with a massive shit-eating grin. When I pinch the crook of his elbow, Heath sobers. ‘Dani wants you to know we weren’t doing anything.’
Silently, I plead with the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Not that much louder, I hiss, ‘I hate you.’
Lips pursing to stem a smile, he smacks a kiss on my cheek.
Perhaps a touch childishly, I wipe it off.
Definitely a little maliciously, I pull away enough for panic to flare in those sea-glass irises, but it’s just so I can turn around, so I can flash a small smile at Lyla as she wriggles free of her mother’s grip and skids toward us.
Head angled curiously, the kid hits us with a level of scrutiny far beyond her years. ‘Uncle Heath, why does your girlfriend hate you?’
The arms wrapped tightly around my middle constrict playfully. ‘It’s her love language.’
‘Uncle Heath, why is your girlfriend so red?’
‘She’s just so full of love.’
The five-year-old looks dubious. ‘Is it because you were kissing?’
I choke.
‘Jesus, Lala.’ Muffling a chuckle against my ear, Heath shakes his head at his niece. ‘You’re gonna kill her.’
‘How—’
‘Okay.’ Coughing to disguise a laugh of her own, Saylor grabs her daughter again and steers her out of the room. ‘Let’s go, little one. Bath time.’
While Heath promises leftovers in their wake, I just barely resist the urge to beg them to stay. Because they leave, and my embarrassment at getting caught goes with them – my embarrassment at what we got caught almost doing sets up shop. What I almost did.
Clearing my throat, I cautiously peel Heath off of me. This time, he lets me go. Physically, at least. I move out of his reach, not even looking at him, and yet still the mere low, casual gravel of his voice has me standing to attention. ‘If you ever wanna test that theory.’
I hold my breath.
‘Test it with me.’
My lungs deflate with loud, bemused noise. ‘What’s in it for you?’
‘What do you think?’
I think lots of things. Silly things. Presumptuous, impossible things that are ridiculous notions compared to the very obvious reality. ‘One-upping Ben really does it for you, huh?’
His smile falters. I almost think I might’ve gotten it wrong – I might’ve gotten it right in other ways.
And then he nods. ‘Exactly.’