The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) (45 page)

I cup his ass, that fantastically firm ass that features prominently in so many of my dirty dreams. My finger strokes his little battle axe tattoo, and his nostrils flare in a sharply drawn breath.

“Because,” I say, “you only have to be standing there to torture me.”

“You’ve just made countless painful hours of exercise worth it.” A teasing note lightens his tone but shadows creep into his eyes. Drew doesn’t work out to impress people. His body is a tool, finely honed to perform at the optimum level. And now it’s broken. I know he’s fighting off the fear and has been since the sack.

My knees protest as I rise. On my way up, I pause and kiss the smooth, hot tip of his cock, and he hisses. Before I’m fully standing, he cups my neck and pulls me in. His biceps bulge as his arms bend, and then his mouth is on mine, his kiss tempting me with little licks, soft sucks, and sharp needy breaths. His cock pokes my belly as I lean into him, and I’m so hot, so wet that I nearly forget why this is a bad idea.

He sways on his feet, the long length of his body threatening to topple. I pull back. “Drew…”

He doesn’t let me go but sighs. “All right, all right. I’ll be good for now.” His eyes meet mine, and I see the heat in them. “But you’re going to pay for that one, Jones.”

“I’ll be waiting for it, Baylor.” Tenderly, I kiss his mouth, lingering just enough to have him follow when I pull away. I smile at him. “Now, take your shower.”

He gives my upper lip a soft nip before backing away. “Heartless wench.” And then, before I can change my mind and grab him, he hobbles into the shower and stands under the spray.

No, I will not watch. I will not. My mouth goes dry. Those fine muscles are defined by taut skin, all slick and shining. Water runs in rivulets off of his still half-hard cock. I suck in a breath and close the door on his knowing laugh.

Fleeing to the relative safety of Drew’s room, I pull back the covers on the bed and arrange the pillows so he can lie comfortably. It feels good doing this for him, yet anticipation bumps around in my belly. I am going to sleep here with him. I’ve done so before. Though never like this, never planned and without the promise of sex. I prefer this way, knowing that I’m here because I simply want to be with him. Letting go frees me more than I thought possible.

I’m smiling as I catch a glance in the mirror, then halt in horror. My hair has a fuzz factor of ten.

“Holy hell.” Mad snarls stand out around my head. I’m like a girl version of freaking Carrot Top. And I’ve been flirting with Drew like this. I almost moan, but stifle it when I hear the shower stop.

I grab my toiletries bag as he comes into the room.

Drew, of course, does not bother with a towel. No, he’s perfectly fine limping in butt-naked and giving me a cheeky grin.

“I’m taking a shower,” I say as I edge past him, dying to hold down my maniacal hair.

He raises an irate brow. “Then why didn’t you shower with me?”

“You know why.” I’m almost to safety.

“Wasting water is a crime in some states, Jones,” he calls, as I scuttle into the bathroom.

“Good thing we don’t live in one of those states.” I close the door on him.

Despite my hair nightmare, Drew’s shower is heaven. I bend my neck and let the hot water pour down on my aching muscles. But I don’t linger long. I want to be with Drew now.

Putting on enough product to make my hair behave, I look around for my nightshirt and curse. I’ve forgotten it. And while I’m not shy about Drew seeing me naked, it seems like a tease to do it now. Not that going out wrapped in a towel won’t be either. I could put on my clothes, but they stink of hospital too. Then I spy one of his shirts hanging on the back of the bathroom door. It smells clean, so I take it, only to realize that it’s one of his jerseys.

I slip the jersey over my head, and it falls to my knees, the sleeves flopping around my elbows. I dither, wondering whether to keep it on when I hear him from the other room.

“Did you get lost in there, Jones?”

Rolling my eyes, I put some lotion on my legs. “Impatient much?”

“Hey,” he says from the room, “what’s with this little jar here?”

I crack the door open. “It’s olive oil.” I’d left a small jar of it on his bedside table. “The team physical therapist said you might be sore, and I didn’t have any massage oil so…”

“You talked to my PT?” He sounds a bit strangled, surprised, but not angry.

“Of course.” I walk into the room. “I wouldn’t be much help to you if I didn’t. I can massage your leg now if you… What?” I stop at the foot of the bed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because he’s hauling himself up from his slouch in the bed, his muscles bunched and tense, and he’s gaping at me. For a moment we simply stare at each other. God, but he’s a sight. The lamplight glows warmly on his golden skin, a sharp contrast to the white bedding that lies low over his narrow hips, the cover more a tease then a barrier.

Drew breaks the silence.

“You…” He clears his throat. “You’re seriously trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Are you high?” I laugh softly, but my heart rate has increased to an excited flutter.

“Maybe.” His lips curl into a tilted smile. “You look utterly, spectacularly hot in my jersey, Anna Jones.”

I roll my eyes, but grin. “You
are
high.”

“Come here.” He holds his hand out to me. “Like now.”

Shaking my head, I go to him, and promptly yelp when he grabs hold of my wrist and yanks me onto the bed. “Easy,” I admonish as I straddle his lap, facing him. “I’m not going to be happy if you make me kick your leg.”

“Screw the leg.” His hands settle on my hips.

Since I have him all to myself, I explore the silken skin of his chest with my hands, loving the dense muscles and the heat he gives off. Drew is always warm. “Feeling all right?” My voice is soft with a protectiveness I hadn’t known myself capable of.

“Feeling pretty damn fine now, Jones.” He lifts a hand and gently traces the iron-on number one over my right breast. My nipple stiffens under his touch, and he lingers there, drifting back and forth. “This looks a lot better on you than it does on me.”

And though heat is in his gaze, I hear the hitch in his voice and the darkness. My insides clench. I try to shift away, but he holds me tight, a frown working between his brows as he looks at me in question.

“I shouldn’t have worn this. It was insensitive.” Why didn’t I realize he’d remember his loss when he saw the stupid jersey?

He gives my hip a squeeze. “Yes, you should. Every damn night, if I have my say.” He fights valiantly for a smile.

Wanting to sooth him, I caress his shoulders. “All right. If you wear this every night.”

“But I’m not wearing anything, Jones.”

“I know.” I give him a soft kiss.

Our lips cling, and he threads a hand through my hair.

“You’re so beautiful to me,” he says against my mouth.

I pull back to look him in the eyes. “To you?”

He often says that, and part of me wonders if others have said something contrary to him.

“To me.” His fingers trace the curve of my shoulder, brushing a lock of hair over it. “When we’re together, it’s just you and me. No one else exists.”

He makes me want to cry, to tell him things I’ve never allowed myself to think, much less say aloud.

“Drew.” I press my fist against his chest. “You can’t keep saying these perfect things to me.” I give him a wobbly smile. “I mean, how am I supposed to match that?”

He chuckles. “Are you giving me grief for being too romantic?”

“No.” I kiss his cheek, high up by the corner of his eye. “Maybe. I find that when it comes to you, I’m competitive too.”

Another laugh rumbles in his chest. “Game on, then?”

“Yeah.” I kiss his other cheek.

He sighs, touches my neck, a light stroke. “Hit me with it, Jones.”

“Drew?” I nuzzle his ear.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re real cute,” I drawl.

He bursts out laughing. “Oh, wow,” he deadpans. “I’ve just been schooled.”

“You know it.”

I’ve missed him. Happiness is a blade that cuts into my heart.

His warm palm skims up my thigh until his thumb brushes the curls between my legs. Immediately, my insides clench. More so when his voice lowers roughly. “Ah, I missed this. I missed the perfection of your pussy.”

“Oh, that’s smooth,” I say with a snort.

“Classy too.”

We snicker, but another light touch of his thumb makes me utterly wet. He feels it and sighs, resting his forehead against mine. “Anna Jones’s pussy. Total perfection.”

“I’m thinking of having cards made up that say just that.” I’m trying not to squirm against his roaming finger.

“At the very least, have it imprinted on your underwear.” He flickers a thumb over my clit.

“I’ve decided to forgo underwear altogether.” I’m breathless. “Seems a shame to cover perfection, you know?”

“Good plan. You don’t want to smother our girl here.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Drew.”

Though we’re joking, and he’s doing his best to turn me on, that somber air still hangs over him. His breathing is too slow and heavy, as if he has a massive weight on his chest. And my heart hurts for him. Especially when he absently traces the numbers on my chest once more.

“Hey.” I cup his cheek. “You
will
wear one again. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it, Drew. You will.”

The corners of his eyes crease with worry. “What makes you so sure, beautiful?”

“Because it isn’t in you to quit.”

Drew’s smile is slow, but wide. “Kiss me, Anna.”

We meet halfway. Instantly, I open to him, and his tongue dips in to taste me. I shiver, loving the way he touches me, and he breathes into me on a sigh.

Under the sheet, his cock rises hard and strong, nestling between my legs. I rock against it, and we both groan. Drew cups my cheeks, holds me where he wants me. “I love your lips,” he whispers.

He suckles my bottom lip, plays with my mouth in that delicious way of his.

“I love the way you kiss,” I say.

He hums, the vibration making my mouth tinge. He kiss goes deep then light. “I love
you
.”

The words slap into me, and my entire body seizes. I’m shaking as I pull back to look at him. His expression is tender but wary. He knows he’s turned my world on its ear.

“What did you say?” I choke out.

“You heard me.” His tone is cautious, as if he’s waiting for me to run away but hoping I won’t.

Tears blur my vision. My body feels like lead. I sag in his arms and slump against his chest. Gently, he lifts me up a bit until he can see me.

“Hey.” He thumbs away a tear. “I didn’t tell you to upset you. I told you because holding it back is too hard.” He leans in until our breaths mingle. “I want to tell you every day.”

Drew pauses and vulnerability tightens the corners of his eyes. “And you need to know what this is for me, because I wasn’t clear before.” Deep gold eyes hold mine. He’s leaving himself wide open, revealing his soul. “You have my heart, Anna. And every time I had to walk away from you, every time you walked away from me, it felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. It fucking hurt, Anna.”

His confession mirrors my feelings so closely that a fresh wave of hot tears well in my eyes. “It hurt me too. So much. I felt so empty I couldn’t stand up straight.”

Drew’s dark brows furrow. “Why didn’t you—”

“I was afraid. Shit.” I take an unsteady breath, feeling sick. “You shine so brightly, Drew. And it’s beautiful to me, but I didn’t know how to live under your light.”

He frowns, his expression growing fierce. But his words are low, strong. “What people see? That is only gloss. But, Anna, you light
me
up. Drew. Not the player. You didn’t know how to live under my light? I don’t have a light anymore unless you’re there.”

“Drew.” With a trembling hand, I stroke his neck then rest my palm in the center of his chest. “I’m not…” I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to admit my weaknesses. Not even to myself. But this is Drew, and I trust him. More importantly, he deserves to know. I open my eyes and face him.

And he’s watching me, uncertain now, likely hurting again, because of me and my fucking issues.

“I never went to prom,” I blurt out. “I was never asked on a date, guys never even looked at me in high school.”

His expression shifts from shock to confusion to an understanding that makes my insides pitch. My fingers curl against the dense rise of his pecks as I forge on. “No one really liked me. I was the weird girl. The sullen one they wanted to pretend didn’t exist.” I snort, an ugly, pained sound. “Or maybe they really didn’t know I existed.”

I shrug, not wanting to meet his eyes, but I do. “Mom called me a late bloomer. Which means dick all when you’re sixteen and dying inside.” Viciously, I wipe at my eyes. “And you…” My voice cracks before I can bring it under control. “When I say you shine, I mean just that. You’re the sun around which people orbit. If you had been in my school, you’d have been the one everyone looked toward to lead. You never would have seen me hiding in the shadows.”