She didn’t think about it any more. She couldn’t. She just turned her back on him, opened the tie to her robe, shrugged her shoulders, and felt the thing slide down her body and hit the floor. She didn’t turn around, because she couldn’t look at him and say this. “And I’m tired of being ashamed of my body,” she told him with the very last of her courage. “I’m not twenty-one anymore, I eat chocolate when I’m stressed, and Spanx don’t work when you’re naked. And I don’t care.”
And then she left.
Whoa.
He gave her a minute. Or more like—he took a minute. And then he headed out after her.
She was out there in the cold dark, lying in the steaming hot tub, her head back against the edge, looking up at the sky. Probably trying not to cry.
He squatted down beside her, got a hand on her head, smoothed her hair back, and said, “Hey.”
She didn’t look at him. She said, “Could you just … not? Don’t be nice. I’m so embarrassed.” As he watched, a tear made it over her lower lid and slid down the side of her face, and he saw the convulsive movement of her throat as she swallowed.
He could have said so many things, but he didn’t think talking was going to do the job.
“Well, hell,” he said, and got his boots and socks off. After that, he ripped off the rest of his clothes, slid in opposite her, let the heat enfold him, and said, “You don’t want to talk? Then you can listen. You’re beautiful, and, yeah, you’re seriously sexy. I’m also going to ask you what the hell you’re talking about. What was that part about spanking? Because you bet a guy could look at your ass and think about that. A guy could look at your ass and have a whole sweet fantasy about it, to tell you the truth. If I’m not supposed to do that, you shouldn’t have said it.”
She didn’t have her head tipped back anymore. She was just staring at him. “What? I’m talking about Spanx.”
“Yeah,” he said. “So am I. It’s working for me, too. Not to mention that other sexual skill of yours. Though I’ve got to tell you, that wasn’t the main thing I had in mind tonight. I was thinking that I want to see your eyes close. I want to hold your thighs, shove them apart real slow, and not let you go. I want to feel you tightening up around me, and I want to know your toes are curling when I hit the right spot. When I do it right, because, Jennifer, I am going to do it right. I’m going to do it until you beg.” He got his feet up there on the bench, against her thighs, and did a little squeezing, because he wanted her to feel him there. “Oh, yeah. The begging’s going to be nice.”
She was still staring at him like he was a Martian. “That was not sexy, what I said,” she told him. “That was the last thing from sexy.”
He, slid down a little lower and took a good look at her breasts, half-submerged in the steaming water. “Well, yeah. It was. You getting all fired up like that, yelling at me? You bet it was. And when you dropped your robe?” He sighed. “You’ve got a bruise back there, yeah. You’ve also got one hell of an ass, and if we’re going there—I want my hands all over it.” After that, he smiled at her, keeping it slow. “So, hey. How about coming over here and putting your tongue in my mouth?”
24
A Throwaway Thing
“No,” she said.
She hadn’t known she’d say it until the word came out of her mouth. She wanted to take it back. But she didn’t.
His smile faded. “Jennifer,” he finally said. “I meant that.”
“No,” she said again. “I can’t. You are feeling sorry for me. This is like the spa treatment. You’re trying to give me a good time, because as we know, I confided. Ugh. I can’t believe I confided. It’d make you feel better, because you haven’t been able to help enough today, and you’re a good person. Which is noble. It is. But I can’t help you do it. Not this way. I can’t.”
For once, he wasn’t looking charming. He was looking like he didn’t know how to be charming.
“I have to live with this,” she told him. “And I can’t. I always told Dyma …” She had to blink back the tears and take a deep breath before she went on. “Not to sleep with anybody who didn’t think he was the luckiest guy in the world to get the chance. It’d be an easy thing for you. A throwaway thing. I get it. But I can’t be a throwaway thing anymore.”
She stood up, got hit by a wave of cold air on her superheated skin, scrambled out of the hot tub without nearly enough grace, and reached for her robe. Now he’d seen every bit of her, but that was all right, too. That was fine.
She wasn’t unsure anymore, and she was always unsure. That had to mean this was right, even though it felt lousy. “I’m going to take a shower,” she told him. “And then order some dinner and go to bed. I realize you’re paying, but I’m going to tell myself that I didn’t ask you to. You wanted company, and I’ve given you company.”
“You have,” he said. His face was shut down now. “You should do what you want.”
“It’s your birthday,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m a big boy,” he said. “Go.”
He didn’t hang around. Once he was sure she’d be locked into her bathroom, he climbed out of the hot tub, pulled his clothes over his wet body as best he could, let himself out of the suite, and headed back to his room.
Nowhere he hadn’t been before. An anonymous hotel room. A shower. A room-service order.
His phone rang.
He picked it up, his heart pounding.
Annabelle.
He took a breath, pushed the button, and said, “Hey, Bug. Using it already, huh?”
“I can’t talk long,” she said. “I’m in the shed.”
“What? Why? It’s too cold out there.”
“I know. I’m the one here. I was scared Dad would hear me.”
He swung his feet to the floor. “Why? What did he do?”
Shit. Why had he left like that? He should have stayed. He should have known. His dad had felt humiliated. He’d known that would make it worse.
“Nothing,” she said. “Not like you’re thinking. He just … he threw some things, I think, after he got home. Something was breaking out there, anyway. I think he might have bet on the game, but I’m not sure. If he did, he lost. It was an upset, if you didn’t watch, because the Patriots didn’t have any pass rush at all, and their play calling was kind of bizarre, but you know how he always thinks the Patriots can’t lose. Anyway, I stayed in my room. It’s quiet now, though. I think he fell asleep. But I thought it would be better to come out here to call.”
“Right.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to get his breathing under control. “Sorry I left you.” He dragged a hand through his still-wet hair. “What can I do?”
“I just wondered … maybe I could live with Alison until September, until I’m eighteen, and then I could come out and be with you. What do you think? I’d miss the rest of the softball season, but maybe … maybe I could wait and go after the playoffs, in April. I could tell him I’ll play next year in Portland. Maybe that wouldn’t make him so mad.”