Luke
I put my hands on her bare shoulders, but then, because this is how things are between us, I think better of it, and let my arms drop down by my sides. I’m not satisfied I can trust myself with them there either, so I perch them across my chest. Aarabelle is so drunk. Her eyes are lazy, half-mast, and her movements are sluggish, unplanned. Not like usual. I’m buzzed from the shots, but the interminable rage I feel is directed at the situation we’re in. I’m fuck all confused, lying to my friends and they know it, chasing a ghost of a feeling I only get with her.
Her lips are flushed and pouting, and I’d hit my knees and beg to kiss them if this was a picture-perfect scenario instead of the dumpster fire it’s becoming. I lick my own lips instead as I study her face. “I didn’t lie about that. I don’t want to fuck you.”
She rolls her eyes and makes an ungraceful move toward the attached bathroom. She leaves the door open as she brushes her teeth.
“You didn’t let me finish,” I call out.
She spits into the sink. “What did you lie about, Hart?” she asks.
I can see her body reflecting in the full-length mirror adjacent to the bathroom. If she were sober, I’d turn away, but there’s no way she knows I’m watching her. Aarabelle grabs the waistband of her leggings and pulls them off in a shimmy move that makes me swallow hard and readjust my cock.
“Obviously about wanting to talk about work,” I reply.
She’s bent over in the tiny closet area scouring her bright pink suitcase. When she finds what she’s looking for, she pulls a pair of shorts up her legs and then pulls the tank over her head. “What do you want to talk about, Luke?” she asks, and her irritation is obvious.
“The something between us.” After I speak, she pops her head out from around the corner she has no idea I have a full view of.
She puts on a tight t-shirt and approaches. Not tentatively. It’s a stalk, one of a predator who knows they have their prey cornered. “But you don’t want to fuck me,” she drawls, licking her lips.
Inhaling a huge breath, I close my eyes to control the raging thoughts. Fucking her every which way to Sunday. When she takes a step toward me, I step back. The delicate balance of self-control and friendship is sliding across the line in the sand. Her phone pings from the bed and the momentary lust haze is shaken.
“Maybe that’s Ralph.Hewants to fuck me.”
Every time she says fuck, my dick jumps like Fido. I grasp her arm. She looks back at me accusatory. “Don’t get the phone.”
“Give me a reason not to.”
“I do want to fuck you, Aara. But once isn’t what is going to sate me.”
Brows furrowed, she tilts her head to the side. “But you said…”
“I won’t be able to fuck you out of my system. I don’tjustwant to fuck you.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I want more than that.” I loosen my grip when I know she’s either surprised into submission, or too stunned to remember her phone.
Dempsey runs her hands through her long dark hair. Sort of like the habit I have when I’m frustrated, except she makes it sexy. “Why?”
I suffer in this arena because I’ve never done battle in it. With her inebriated, I’m not sure she’ll remember this in the morning. We should just fuck and keep everything else on the back burner. That would be the wise decision. The one Luke Hart from a year ago, shit, the one Luke Hart from a month ago, would make. But she’s going to slip through my fingers if I don’t give her something. “You’re sort of spectacular. You have to know it.”
Her face softens, the fight dying with each second. “I am not,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m your teammate, Luke. Anything between us would be taboo, unsavory, another reason stacked against women in giving us opportunities. You also know that,” she says, eyes pleading.
“Does that mean you feel the same way about me?”
“Do I think you’re spectacular? Is that what you’re asking?”
I grin and sling myself down on the end of the bed. She’s standing in front of me. “Aara, be straight with me.”
After she runs her hands through her hair one more time, she clamps both hands on her ears like we’re in Daytona and the race cars are too loud. “I’m falling in love with you.” Her words pierce my chest and make my head swim. She takes her hands down and smiles.
I quirk one brow. “That’s a bold statement, Little Dempsey.”
“I didn’t hear what I said. It makes it legal. No rules were broken.”
My phone rings in my pocket, but I ignore it in favor of staring at Aarabelle. She takes a step closer to me and my heart pounds. I’ve been in hotels with women a million times and never have I ever felt like I was losing my mind before now. This is what it feels like to fall. This uncontrollable lust and adrenaline. It’s different because there’s an intellect component. She’s smart, and equal in ways I didn’t know existed. Her passion is mine. My dad told me how she saved a guy during Hell Week. Not an abnormal occurrence because we’re all on the same team, but then he told me that guy was being a total asshole to her for days prior. She has unconditional commitment.
When she’s in grabbing distance, I snare her in my arms and pull her to stand in between my knees. I rest my forehead on her hard stomach and interlace my fingers on the base of her spine, on top of her ass. I breathe her in. I capture her. Her breathing speeds, making my head rise and fall then her hands are on my shoulders, behind my neck.
“What are you thinking right now?” she whispers.
