“Yes. Please.”
* * *
—
EXCEPT FOR THAT SPLIT second when she basically made him out to be some sort of feminist hero because he didn’t give a shit about whether she’d gotten a wax job, this had been the best date of his life.
Her moments of vulnerability made him want her so much more, but they amplified the guilt growing in his gut every second he spent with her. She was sharp and funny, and so beautiful it made his eyes tired—he didn’t blink enough when he looked at her. He didn’t want to miss a single smile or hand gesture. Didn’t want to miss her looking at him. Under ordinary circumstances, he would be trying to make sure that she knew that she was the girl for him. It was shitty luck and shitty timing that he had to treat her exactly how she expected him to treat her.
As he kissed the tops of her gorgeous tits, he tried to justify what he was doing.
This is wrong. You’ll break her heart.
She won’t even remember your name in a month.
She would eventually leave you anyway.
She thought you would be kicking her out the moment you found out about her pubic hair. The least you owe her is an orgasm for the anxiety.
That last one was the one that had his hands moving up her thighs, getting her fuck-hot dress out of the way so he could dive right in. Jack had never had any qualms about going down on a woman—especially one that felt as much like his as Hannah.
If he wasn’t using her for a story, he could imagine this being the first of many times that her breath caught when his fingers reached her panties. The commencement of the sighs she’d make when he caressed the skin of her lower belly with his tongue. One of many moments when he opened up her thighs and tasted her like she was better than anything he’d tasted during their many courses of dinner.
Because she was.
It was all he could do to stop himself when she wound her fingers through his hair and rode his face. He did a swirly thing with his tongue until she made a keening sound combined with words that didn’t make sense. He kept going until he’d completed his mission and she came all over his face, nearly pulling his hair out at the ends.
He rose onto his knees and pulled her dress down, a mirrored sense of satisfaction melting through his chest. She had her forearm blocking her eyes, but he wished that she would look at him. He didn’t deserve them, but he wanted her eyes.
Looking at her kiss-swollen lips and flushed skin, he couldn’t help wanting more from her. His libido was certainly on board with that idea, but he had to draw a line somewhere. After all this was over and she found out that he’d lied to her, he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of taking pleasure from her if it was based on a lie.
Over the next two weeks, he would probably wear the skin off his dick from jerking it, but he wasn’t about to be that guy. He’d have to seem like that guy for the article, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of her.
That was the only way that maybe she’d give him a real shot at being her real-life boyfriend at the end of this. If he let her use him for this whole two weeks, maybe he’d have a chance of convincing her that he wasn’t a totally morally bankrupt asshole and that she could give him a shot.
In the time that it took her to recover and look at him, he’d made the decision that he wouldn’t get his rocks off with Hannah until this whole farce was over. Immediately, she tested that determination when she reached for his belt. Knowing that he would break his promise to himself and to future Hannah who might want to be in a relationship with him, he twisted out of her grasp and off of the couch so quickly that he knocked into the coffee table and spilled both of their drinks.
“Shit!” He yelled louder than he intended to. His brother had made the coffee table for him out of old railroad ties, and he would get a hard glare the next time Michael came over if there were watermarks on the wood.
“I’m so sorry!” Hannah sounded horrified, and he immediately felt like a huge asshole. Even through her hard-ass exterior, he’d read some vulnerability in her wariness. She just seemed like someone very accustomed to calibrating her behavior to a situation. Even though he was using her for a story, he needed to find some way to be careful of her feelings. He had to make her realize that whatever he did to her to get her to break up with him was because of his damage, not hers.
They both rushed toward the kitchen, but he grabbed the paper towels and kept them away from her. “Not your fault, Duchess.”
“Sure. Right.” Didn’t sound like she believed him.
He cleaned up the spilled liquor and righted the glasses before straightening. Hannah stood on the other side of the couch, worrying her bottom lip, and she made his heart skip. He hated that she felt bad, and he couldn’t seem to stop wanting to make things right for her.
Part of him just wanted to tell her right now, the whole story. But he stopped himself. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to make things right for the women in his life. If he was honest with himself, he’d been trying to make things right for the women in his life since long before his mom left to follow her bliss.
And it had never worked. He’d been walking on eggshells with every woman he’d ever dated, and they always still walked away. Being the best guy they’d ever dated had never kept them from walking away from him and following their bliss. Bliss always won out, and he’d never been anyone’s bliss.
No matter what he did to make Hannah happy, anything they had would be temporary. He’d be the great, solid boyfriend she deigned to be with until something more fun and shiny happened along. He would throw his whole being into giving her everything he could, and it would never be enough.
So he could throw away a chance to finally make his career happen. If he could get into the game of real journalism, maybe he wouldn’t need to put so much effort into relationships. Perhaps he’d be the kind of shiny, exciting guy who didn’t have to be the perfect boyfriend in order to get a woman interested in him.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” she said.
He had, too. He didn’t want to end it here, but he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to resist if she went in for his fly again. “Let me get your coat.”
“You sure you want me to leave?” She looked down at the front of his pants with a pouty look on her face.
He painted a smirk onto his mouth. It took a little effort, but he needed practice in the whole being-a-callous-dickstick department. Coming up with a fast, believable lie wasn’t really his forte. “Yeah, I have an early-morning meeting tomorrow.”
He grabbed her coat from the rack by the door and helped her into it. Hey, some habits couldn’t be unlearned. She had the fall of her hair over one shoulder, and the skin on the back of her neck proved to be way too tempting.