As she averts her gaze, Hannah’s cheeks turn pink at the compliment, and she smiles down at the floor. “I like her, too.”
I release one of her hands, tucking my finger beneath her chin and gently forcing her face back up, meeting those sparkling ocean eyes that have my heart in a fucking chokehold. She rests her hands against my chest, and my gaze dips to her mouth. I lick my lips, ready to claim her with the kiss we missed out on earlier, the pull she has on me so strong, like a goddamn magnet.
“You’re so different from the person I thought you were,” Hannah says, surprising me.
I chuckle, inching my lips closer to hers. “I play a good part.”
She smiles, her breath soft against my lips, right there. “Oscar-worthy.”
“Do you like the real me?” I ask, grazing my lips with hers.
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed.
“I like the real you, too,” I whisper.
Hannah pulls back a touch, narrowing one eye. “Therealme?”
I nod, sniffing a laugh. “You can’t fool me Baby Draper. You’re not the hard ass you make yourself out to be.”
Hannah considers my words, looking almost slighted at the realization that I know her truth. Leaning in, she lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell anyone.”
I press my lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger in a kiss as I breathe her in. “Your secret’s safe with me,” I whisper back. “We can pretend you’re still a hard ass.”
She giggles softly, looking up at me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she urges my lips back to hers, only this time she claims me, owns me with the kind of kiss that feels like it might leave a permanent mark. One that I can show off for the rest of my life.
My tongue slides against hers, tasting her sweetness and earning a breathy, whimpering moan, and my dick swells, pressing painfully against the zip in my jeans. I allow my hands to follow the dip of her lower back, the curve of her ass, stopping at the short hem of her skirt that has been driving me fucking crazy all night, palming her perfectly plump cheeks as I deepen the kiss.
“Happy,” she warns into my mouth, pulling back enough to flash me a chastising look.
“What?” I ask innocently, nipping at her swollen bottom lip.
“We can’t…” She looks up at me through her lashes. “Lucky is literally asleep across the hall.”
“It’s cute that you think that’d stop me, Baby Draper,” I gruff, palming her ass again and making her gasp at the feel of my hard cock pressing into stomach. “We can, and we absolutelyfucking will. You just need to learn to be quiet.” I kiss the tip of her nose, and she spears me with a playful glower that I ease away by trailing my knuckles over her cheek. “Not tonight, because I can see how exhausted you are. But for the record, Baby Draper, I have every intention of getting you into that there bed and making you come every fucking way that I can.”
Hannah’s eyes dart to my huge California King, gazing at it almost longingly, like she’s imagining all the things we could do in it, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.
“You want that?” I ask, and when her eyes slide to mine again, I quirk a brow. “You wanna be the only woman who’s ever been in that bed?”
With a shy smile that lights a fire in my gut, she nods just once and closes her eyes like she’s embarrassed by the admission, and I can’t stop myself. I claim her lips once more, kissing her with all that I have, with so much more meaning than I’ve ever kissed another person before.
CHAPTER 23
HANNAH
The media is going crazy at the breaking news of Brookes Devereaux pulling out of The Masters on such short notice. His reps are citing exhaustion, but of course, I know the truth. And the photos of Brookes leaving New York this morning, with his head down, a ball cap covering his face, surrounded by security while photographers pulled at his shirt and pushed and shoved around him… it just cements the fact that his decision to pull out of the tournament, and all future competitions until further notice, has been the best decision Brookes could have made. I feel for the man in these photographs. And I hate that I was so cruel toward him while he was secretly going through something so horrible. I truly do hope that Brookes gets the help that he needs.
Patrick flew back to Los Angeles this morning, where he lives with his wife and two daughters. And he told me to take the day off to decompress after everything that went down yesterday, which was an offer I immediately accepted. Emotionally and mentally, I’m fine after what happened. Yes, it was scary seeing Brookes lying on the floor, covered in his own vomit, not knowing if he was dead or alive. Ineverwant to see anything like that again. But I’m okay. In fact, if anything,yesterday was an eye-opener for me. I grew up in this industry, and it reminded me that there is so much more to all of this. It’s not all fame and celebrity, money and winning; there’s a real dark side to this business, and it can be dangerous if it’s taken advantage of. What happened yesterday made me realize that I need to spend more time with my dad away from hockey. Yesterday also made me realize that I like Happy Slater—Ireallylike him—and I think I want to be with him. And frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone has to say about it.
So, upon Patrick’s insistence, I took the day off today.
Toast Malone and I walked down to Hudson River Park and spent some time basking in the morning sunshine. While Toasty was passed out on the sofa after our walk, I took myself out for a ME day, and I got a mani-pedi, spent way too much money in Sephora, and then bought something special. Something I’m wearing right now as I pose in front of the free-standing mirror in the corner of my bedroom, snapping a photo of myself with my phone and attaching it to a new text message.
Me: What do you think?
I wasn’t expecting a response so fast, since they flew to Texas early this morning. I assumed he was probably resting or busy with pre-game prep, but my phone buzzes almost instantly with his reply, and I fall back onto my bed, pathetically giddy.
Happy: Are you fucking kidding me, Baby Draper?
