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Chapter Twelve
“Ithought we both said we don’t like to play games.” She set down her gym bag and approached him.
Eric’s stomach twisted and he swallowed against the bile in his throat. He thrust a hand through his hair.
This conversation was going to suck. There was no way around it.
“Crap, I don’t want to play games, either. I like you, I really do, Hannah. You have to know this.”
Her brows lifted. “But?”
He shook his head. “Can’t you see that I want nothing more than to pick you up and carry you to that damn shower and make love to you until we both can’t see straight?”
Her swift inhalation had his blood heating. He could almost swear her knees buckled as she grabbed the back of the couch.
He had to do it. Had to say it. Had to acknowledge the but they both knew was there.
“But James is a friend—a brother, even. And he still loves you.” The words were guttural. Each word forced out and painful. “I can’t do that to him. No matter how very, very much I want to.”
She watched him silently, with a bit of analysis and sympathy. And a whole lot of regret.
“You’re a good guy, Eric. I’ve always known that, and I should’ve realized it could never be this simple for us.” She swallowed visibly and then shrugged. “Anyway, I understand. And thanks for being honest with me. You don’t have to stay here and protect me. Or go along with that silly scheme to be my fake boyfriend—”
“I’m not leaving you,” he rasped and caught her hands in his. “Especially now. And the fake boyfriend stuff isn’t silly. It’s a good idea.”
And I’m also going to be bringing my gun from home to keep here. He didn’t add that part aloud.
“Hopefully, Wentworth will get the message that we’re together and it’ll make him back off. We just tone it down in public.”
“Understood. A chaste kiss when you drop me off at work—” she nodded primly “—and no, um, other stuff when we’re alone.”
“Yeah, just like that.” This sounded like hell. He wanted her in his arms. In his bed. Not stopping at puritanical little kisses in front of her school.
Torment and regret ate at him.
“I hate all of this, Hannah.”
“Me too. But it’ll be fine.”
It wasn’t and they both knew it. Her smile seemed forced as she pulled her hands from his. “Let me get you a blanket and pillow for the couch tonight. You go ahead and take the first shower.”
Damn, this blew.
His heart and body felt like lead as he went off to take a cold shower.
*
While Eric wasn’toverly religious, living with Hannah and not being able to touch her had to be pretty close to what being in hell felt like.
Friday morning, as he drove her to school, his gut clenched in anticipation of that quick, almost virginal kiss he’d gotten used to each morning.
It was the only physical contact they’d had each day throughout the week. They spent time together at the apartment and outside. Working out in the dojang several nights or binge-watching shows while she graded papers.
Finding things to talk about while they made dinner together was never a problem. They sat next to each other on the couch, legs brushing, but it never went further than that. It was almost a normal friendship, like it had been the months before he’d opened Pandora’s box with her.
Or at least, that’s how it must appear from an outside point of view. On the inside, his blood hummed with the need to touch her. To taste the sweetness between her lips again. And he knew it was the same for her.
There was a simmering energy between them that was almost electric. One they never acknowledged, but clearly both realized. It was spoken in the silent glances that held a bit too long as they said good night. Or that one “fake” kiss they allowed themselves each day at her school.
