Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) (8 page)

Ed rolled his eyes. “And here we go.”

I laughed harder and harder until Ed made his way around the mattress and hoisted me up over his shoulder, ass in the air, calling me all sorts of names that didn’t make sense.

“Put me down!” I cried out through my laughing fit, banging at his back.

“Ye think I’d carry your laughing arse all around the house? Here,” he said, dropping me in the bathtub and turning the shower on full blast.

The cold water hit me like a cinder block and had me sucking in huge gasps of air as I cursed every word in the book.

He shucked out of his boots and stepped into the shower just as the water went hot. “Move over, will ye?”

The blessed heat was like falling into bed after a long, hard day. I shoved him aside and stood under the spray, groaning as the warmth seeped through my clothing.

But it wasn’t warming me fast enough.

In a craze, I pulled my shirt up over my head and dropped it outside the tub. Then, my pants were gone.

Ed smirked, following suit with a giddiness that had my skin tingling, until we were both in our underwear. Steam billowed around us like encouraging hands, pushing us closer together until there was no air left between us. Until we were both sharing the warmth, letting it halo around us.

With his arms locked around me, our bones rattled against one another like two ice cubes in an empty glass.

I blinked. My hooded eyes grazed over the swell of his lips as I wondered what he tasted like. What the inside of his mouth felt like. How his tongue would work with mine.

“Don’t look at me like that, love, unless ye want what that look’s suggesting.”

His voice was deep. Dark. Sexy. It did things to me. Things that made my insides burn with desire. Things that had me wishing new places for those lips to discover.

I lifted a finger to his well-defined chest, toying with him. “What look?” I teased the corner of my lip with my teeth. Batted my lashes at him. Pressed myself closer against him, enjoying the feel of his excitement growing between us.

Before I could react, his hands were on my sides, thumbs digging into my hips as he pressed me against the wall, his lips nearing mine.

“Ye want me to kiss ye, love?” he asked, his warm, whiskey-scented breath feather light against my lips.

Every nerve in my body twitched with need as I nodded, eyes locked on his.

“Like this?” He brushed his lips over mine, not really kissing me.

Just tempting me. Turning my knees to jelly. My brain to putty.

I nodded, unable to move as my chest arched against him, wishing he’d move his lips a little lower.

He caught the hint.

His lips burned an aching trail down my neck at a slow, torturous pace. Trailed down between the dip in my breasts, where his tongue barely grazed over, lapping up drops of water.

I wished I had taken off my bra. Had given him full access to do what I wanted to beg him to do.

With skilled hands, he had my arms pinned above my head. His other hand roamed down my side and over the swell of my ass, fingers digging hungrily into my flesh as he pressed against me, showing me how ready he was.

“Give me the word, love. Say it, and I’ll give ye that orgasm I promised ye and more.” His lips skimmed up my neck and back over my lips.

My brain went foggy. My insides were warm as I opened my mouth to utter the words. I wanted him. I wanted him bad.

But those words never had the chance to make it past my lips. Only a scream as the lights went out.

“Shite!” Ed said as he reached blindly to turn the water off. “Wait here.” He tumbled his way out of the tub.

It was dark. The kind where you couldn’t see your hand an inch from your face.

“Wait here, my ass!” I said as I reached in the direction where I saw the towels earlier. I grabbed one, wrapped it around my shivering… very aching form, and then grabbed another for Ed.

By the time I made it out of the bathroom, a small beacon of light flashed along the walls in the kitchen like a fairy searching for Peter Pan’s shadow. I heard Ed rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen until he shouted, “Ah-ha!”

A few seconds later, a lantern turned on, brightening the hall in a warm, soft glow as he approached me.

He was still in his boxer-briefs, dripping wet, the material hiding nothing from me.

Gawd. Damn.

“Here,” I said, quickly handing him the towel.

“Let’s get to the hallway.” He grabbed the lantern and guided me out of the kitchen as the wind howled around us.

As he dried off, I picked up the discarded bottle of whiskey from the mattress. I had almost let myself go, and boy, would that have been enjoyable. His hands and his lips… God, his lips. Soft. Full. Generous.

No, Hannah!

I turned, bottle in hand, and found Ed staring at me. Drinking me in. Telling me he wasn’t done if I wasn’t done.

Lightning cracked outside, and I jumped. Pressed the bottle to my lips to help chase away that inner demon creeping its way up my esophagus.

When I pulled it away, I held it out, offering it to him. He took it willingly, and I imagined us sharing the kiss we almost had as his lips touched where mine had just been on the bottle.

He was dreamy in the shadowy light. Beautiful in a way I had searched for all my life. In a safe way. A kind, gentle sort of way.

We both sank to the floor next to the mattress, propping our backs against opposite sides of the hallway, facing each other. With a small, but safe, distance between us, we took turns passing the bottle back and forth, until my worries were an afterthought I didn’t feel like acknowledging.

Ed set the nearly empty bottle down beside him. “Tell me about yourself, love.”

“What’s there to tell?” I asked in between a hiccup.

He chuckled. “I dunno. I’ve never been good at the idle-talking thing, but thought maybe now was a good time to start.”

I rested my head against the wall, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Well, you have to ask me a question, because I’ve never been good at idle talk either.”

He ran his hands down his legs, which were covered by the towel, questions in his eyes.

“Hmmm,” he said, clearly thinking. “How about… your childhood. What kind of kid were ye?”

I laughed. “Kind? I didn’t know there were kinds.”

“Sure there are. The geeks. The bullies. The cool kids. Which were you?” He looked me over as the light flickered across his face.

“I don’t know,” I said with a small shrug. “The nobody kind. The one who blended in and went unnoticed.”

The one with all the sad secrets.

There was a sadness in his eyes. Like he knew what I meant.

I didn’t tell him about the memory I had of my father that always stuck out like a sore thumb in my mind. The one where he held my mother’s hand over the sink, and then switched on the garbage disposal, threatening to shove her hand in if she ever put too much pepper in the gravy again. I hated the smell of gravy because of it.

Or about the time my mother had been taking a shower, and he entered my room, drunk, telling me I was a mistake. That if I knew what was good for me, I’d keep to myself and not burden anyone else with my presence. That I wasn’t deserving of love because I sucked the love out of everyone.

I didn’t tell him how my mother stopped asking me how my day was at school after a while, or how I’d cry myself to sleep, hating myself for not being good enough for them. Wishing I was a different child who deserved the love of her parents. Wishing I could live with my half-brother instead who had his own apartment by the time I was ten.

Those weren’t the sort of things you shared with anyone, let alone a stranger. They were the scars I carried on my shoulder like armor, keeping future hurt away.

“You?” I asked, shifting to face him more, locking away those memories in a box on a shelf high in my mind.

His head tilted to the side. “Pretty much the same. Until I hit high school and shot up taller than the other blokes. The ones who used to enjoy tossing me around in middle school got what was coming to them.”

His grin warmed me through.

“There’s nothing better than an asshole getting a well-deserved pounding,” I said, thinking about my father.

“Got an aggressive streak, do ye?”

He was unaware of just how close he hit it on the nail.

“You could say that.” I smirked as I thought about roller derby. “So… you and Phillip. You were roommates?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you study?”

“Business finance. I did two years at Berkley, but didn’t really feel up to going back once I came home,” he answered, reaching for the bottle beside him.

“I’m kind of in between majors,” I said, reaching for the bottle. “I haven’t found that certain
thing
yet that grabs my attention, you know? I’m just kind of… floating.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” He leaned his head back against the wall.

“I thought about maybe trying to become a sports physician since I’ve always been interested in helping people, but the whole dedication and years of hard work seem kind of daunting for a career I may or may not end up liking.”

“Dodgy when it comes to settling down, are we?” A sly smirk passed over his lips, and I knew what was coming. “Would it be too cliché to ask ye to play doctor with me? Maybe test out your skills a bit to see if ye’d be good at it. Ye see, I have this pain, right here,” he said, trying to point to where his dick was.

I grabbed the closest pillow I could find and flung it at him, laughing when it struck him right in the face.

“Ow, woman! Don’t make me come over there and give ye a proper thrashin’.”

It was my turn to smirk as I chucked another one at him and waited for him to come through with his promise.

SEEING THE PAIN FLICKER THROUGH her eyes when she’d talked about her childhood tugged at something inside of me. There was a whole lot more to Hannah than the tough-girl act she projected, and I was sure I’d witnessed it trying to peek through when her guard dropped just enough and she allowed herself to answer my question.

I knew I needed to tread lightly with her. That we needed to get back to where we could joke, so throwing out the innuendo of playing doctor was what smartass Ed would do. Only, instead of coming back with her quick wit, she turned the tables on me and went the aggressive route.

Snatching the pillow she’d thrown, I popped up to my knees and brought it ‘round, catching her in the side with it.

The light in her eyes blossomed like a flower.

“You just made a huge mistake,” she said, curling her lip into a sinister grin as she went into attack mode.

Curling my arms up over my face as I laughed, I turned my back to her, giving her a solid place to land each stuffing-filled blow and patiently waited for her to tire herself out just a bit before I made my move.

It took a few good hits, but then her laughter turned into a wild shriek as I rolled her over and under me, pinning her arms to the mattress so I could get the blasted pillow away from her.

Tossing it behind me, I turned back, raring to torture her another way—the tickling kind of way—but, before I could even touch her sides, she crippled me in one fast move when her knee came up, catching me straight in the balls.

Instant anger rolled through me. I growled at her, curling my fist against the mattress. My eyes squeezed shut as I fought through the blinding pain.

“What the hell are ye about, woman?” I asked through clenched teeth. It was the only thing keeping my balls from coming straight out my throat.

When she didn’t answer, I looked down at her and everything inside me stilled. Her arms were crossed over her face, palms up as if waiting for me to strike her.

“Hannah?”

Talking to her was like trying to coax a spooked cat out of a corner. I moved off her as quickly as I could. As soon as I did, she scrambled to her feet and raced to the bathroom.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” I asked the empty hallway as the nausea from the blow began to subside.

I replayed everything that happened. Searched for the moment where things took a turn down the wrong road. We were talking, and then playing. She’d turned into the minx I knew she was, baiting me on.

But then I flipped and pinned her.

Her eyes. As wide and as blue as the ocean, and equally as deep and filled with shadows.

Oh no.

I sat there for the longest time waiting for the door to open so I could apologize. Her fear had been real. The question was… what sodding arsehole gave her that fear to begin with?

Folding my hands in my lap, I realized I’d lost the towel I’d been wearing. My wet shorts had become quite uncomfortable. I’d give her a little more time, and maybe by the time I’d changed my clothes, she’d be ready to come out of the bathroom.

The wind picked up outside as I made my way to my bag and changed. Once I was in a fresh pair of joggers and a T-Shirt, I went to Hannah’s bag. Maybe dry clothes could be a sort of peace offering.

Wrapping my knuckles on the outside of the bathroom door, I waited for her to acknowledge me, but I got nothing. “Hannah?” I called out, waiting a beat before trying the handle. The door was unlocked. I pushed it open, eyes scanning over the room.

She was huddled against the wall with her head pressed into her knees.

My chest went tight.

I crouched next to her, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I brought ye some dry clothes if ye’d like to change.”

She picked her head up and looked at me through the muted light seeping in from the hallway, her glistening, blue eyes reminding me of the way sunlight skimmed the surface of a turbulent lake.

In that moment, I was glad my back was to the light so she couldn’t fully see my face. See the sorrow I felt for whatever she had gone through that had her so upset. If she was anything like me, and I had a scary inkling she was, then she wouldn’t want sympathy.

I lightly touched her arm. “Hannah, I’m sorry I scared ye. I’d never hurt ye. I just… ye have to know that. I need ye to know that.”

“I know. I’m sorry, you just had me pinned and I… I reacted.” Her voice could barely be heard over the maelstrom happening over our heads. “I’m sorry for kneeing you like I did. You didn’t deserve it.”

Her voice was so soft. So unlike the Hannah I had been talking to.

“Would ye like me to bring the light in?”

Her head dipped once, so I moved out of the bathroom to get the light, but more so to collect myself.

Abuse was no joke. Someone suffering from the lingering effect of abuse should never be pushed or forced to do something they were not comfortable with. I’d seen it firsthand when my aunt finally escaped the hell she’d lived in for over ten years under my uncle’s abuse.

Seeing Hannah like that pissed me off. Knowing I’d put fear in her eyes sickened me. To be looked at like that by a female was almost crippling.

I knocked on the door again, holding up the light, only entering when she told me to. She sat on the edge of the tub, her clothes next to her feet.

Leaving the light on the sink counter, I closed the door behind me and set out for the kitchen. I didn’t want to hover. Even I knew how awful it was when one of those deep secrets made their way to the surface in front of a stranger.

I stood at the sink, leaning heavy on my arms as I looked out the metal, diamond pattern of the hurricane shutters. Everything past the windows blew sideways. The tall palm trees bent against the wind at such an arch I feared they’d break.

Just like everything else in life—if you put too much pressure on it, it would snap.

Hannah and I were stuck with one another until the storm passed. There was no escaping until then. I had to make the most of the situation. Had to make her feel comfortable again.

Keep her from bending until she broke.

With the muted light streaming through the grates of the shutters, I threw together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, tucked two bottles of water under my arm, and snatched a bag of crisps from the counter.

When I made my way back to the mattress in the hallway, Hannah was sitting there, fiddling with a small radio.

“Found this in Maggie’s room. I thought we’d check to see if there are any updates on the storm,” she said with a slight shrug, sounding light-years better.

I eased myself down opposite of her. “And I brought lunch.”

With a small smile, she took the sandwich I offered, giving up on the static-filled airways. “I guess all the local stations must be offline.”

From down the hall, I heard the shutters rattle. “I don’t doubt it. I think the worst is on its bloody way.”

Her face paled and, for a split second, I kicked myself for stating the obvious, knowing it would only unravel her more. But she straightened her shoulders and hardened her face, countering the fear I’d seen in her earlier.

A smile wormed its way across my lips.

Impressive.

Hell, I had a real problem with heights, and you wouldn’t catch me scaling walls and walking tightropes. Not for anything. But there she sat, calm and collected. Putting herself back together the way a warrior would.

We’d both finished off our sandwiches when all hell seemed to break loose outside. The wind howled, banging the shutters against the house. What sounded like boulders bounced off the roof and, before I knew it, Hannah was in my lap, pressed against my chest.

“It’s safe here. We’re safe here, remember?” I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she clutched my shirt in her fists.

“It sounds like hell unleashed itself out there.” She tried to laugh, but there was no hiding the absolute fear in her voice.

“Remember, Phil told us the hallway is reinforced—”

“Like a box,” she finished for me.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “just like a box. So, as long as we stay right here in the hallway, we’ll be fine.”

She nodded, but she didn’t move away from me.

And there she stayed for what felt like a millennium as the storm gave us her all.

I had to admit… it was exhausting, being wound tighter than a spring for hours at a time. My arms were practically numb from holding Hannah’s trembling body against my own, but I would suffer through every second of it without a complaint because it gave her the strength she needed to work her way through the terror claiming her sensibilities.

It took a while, but I finally maneuvered the both of us onto our sides. I used every good joke in the book and all my best charm to put some ease back into her shoulders as she lay against me. But even then, Hannah’s shaking hadn’t left off. It worried me.

Hell, it made me damn near nauseous.

“Tell me what I can do, love,” I said against her ear, enjoying the subtle, floral scent of her hair.

“I’m fine,” she answered, sounding strained.

I smoothed my hand down her arm. “No, ye’re not. Ye’re shaking hard enough to rattle my teeth.”

Goose bumps lifted on her skin. She rolled in my arms to face me, her nose just a breath from mine.

“I don’t like storms,” she admitted, her eyes meeting mine with a clarity that nearly stole my breath away. “I’ve never liked storms. They’re so… so foreboding and, when I was little, I’d curl up with a blanket around me and hide under my bed until they passed.”

My stomach contracted from thinking of her small form hiding. Of being that afraid. “Did it help? The blanket, I mean,” I asked, sliding a strand of hair that had fallen against her cheek back behind her ear.

A nervous chuckle rattled through the air. “No. Well, sometimes it did. It’s just a silly childhood thing I did.”

“Why is it silly?”

She shrugged, rolling onto her back. “A blanket is just a thin piece of material. But when you’re small, that piece of material is like armor. Ya know? Like the one thing you can put between you and whatever fear you’re facing.” She curled tighter into a ball. “Which, like I said, sounds completely silly, but there you have it.”

Her hands scrubbed down her face, and then she rolled back to face me, tucking her hands beneath her delicate chin.

I caught myself looking at her… really looking at her. I knew what I had to do. What I
could
do… for her.

“Give me just a second. I’ll be right back,” I said, getting up from the mattress, practically running for Maggie and Phillip’s room.

“What are you—?” I heard her say. Her words were stained with laughter as I grabbed the comforter from where we’d dumped it on the floor and headed out of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw my bag and kicked it into the hallway before retrieving Hannah’s. It would help if our stuff was where we needed it, especially if the storm got worse and one of us needed something. Having it close meant I wouldn’t have to leave Hannah any longer than necessary.

“Ed!” I heard her shout, still laughing.

“I’m coming, love,” I called out, but, before I could cross the threshold into the hallway, an angry gust of wind punched against the shutters. The window exploded, sending fragments of glass at me like shrapnel from a bomb.

Shite.

I turned, but not soon enough. A shard of glass whizzed by my cheek, slicing my skin.

“Bloody hell!” I shouted as Hannah screamed for me.

The wind did its damndest to drive me into the wall. Bending at the waist, I positioned my hands around the doorjamb and, with everything I had in me, I pulled the bedroom door toward me and then dove to the side when it slammed into its frame, sounding like a freight train.

“Ed!” Hannah shouted, reaching for me.

I held my hands up to halt her. “Stay back. There are pieces of glass everywhere.”

The floor looked like a disco ball had thrown up all over it. There wasn’t a spot I dared to step, but I couldn’t stand where I was until the damn storm was over.

I was well and truly up a stream without a paddle.