What If You & Me by Roni Loren
Chapter Fourteen
Hill draped his arm over the back of Andi’s couch as they watched Happy Death Day. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this content being in the moment. Normally, his brain was filled with images from the past or grim thoughts of the future. But right now, he was just happy to be there, having a movie night with Andi.
He’d always enjoyed movies, but watching a movie with Andi was a whole different experience. He had no doubt that she’d seen this film countless times and already knew what happened in the plot, but she watched it with such full-body commitment that a stranger observing would’ve sworn this was her first time.
Andi was currently biting her thumbnail, her knees to her chest, sock-covered feet on the couch, and her gaze glued to the screen. He was starting to recognize this as her pre-jump-scare position. She shook her head. “Don’t do it, girl. Don’t go in there.”
Hill bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Andi was a talk-to-the-screen person, which he found enormously entertaining. “She’s totally going to do it.”
Andi turned to him, eyes glittering with light from the screen. “Yeah, they never listen. They really need a best friend like me to warn them. But I don’t wanna be a best friend in a horror movie. Things usually don’t end well for the BFF.”
“No?”
“You have to be the star or, at the very least, the love interest, or you’re screwed.”
“At least she’ll get another do-over.” The heroine of the movie kept dying over and over and reliving the same day. “I’ll hold out hope for the love interest.”
“I’m sure he appreciates your support.” Andi glanced at the arm Hill had draped across the back of the couch and then back to him. He could almost see her mental Should I or shouldn’t I wheels turning. After a beat, she scooted closer and settled against his side. The little vote of trust sent a dart of pleasure through him. He moved his arm, curving it a little so that he was holding her. He could feel her shoulders tighten a bit, but then she rolled her lips together and seemed to breathe out the tension.
A sharp pang went through him at her reaction. Even something as simple as an arm around her made her tense up.
What did he do to you, Andi?
The question whispered through his mind—not for the first time tonight. Hill didn’t know who the he was or what specifically had happened, but in that moment, he wanted to physically harm the scumbag who’d hurt her. Whoever had made this smart, vibrant woman so frightened of even a simple cuddle on the couch deserved to have the shit beat out of him. Twice.
“Do you need me to move my arm?” he asked.
She reached over and patted his thigh. “I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.”
“Just let me know.” He turned back to the screen, and the heroine was waking up in the same day again. “That really is a true horror premise,” he said as the heroine’s phone started playing “In Da Club” again. “Imagine having to live the same day over and over again. And not just any day, but your worst day.”
That was what his nightmares felt like—waking up in the same day over and over. In the same horrible moment. Roof beams splintering, fire raining down. Unable to escape and forced to relive it.
“Yeah,” she said, leaving her hand on his thigh. “But if it gave you the chance to change something, maybe it’d be worth it?”
“Right.” His mind went to the day of the fire. He’d been filling in for someone who was sick. What if he hadn’t answered the call to come in that day? What if he and Christina had gone on a road trip that day like they’d planned and turned off their phones? Where would he be right now? Still a firefighter, two fully intact legs, married. Not depressed. Not waking up soaked with sweat from nightmares.
“I have a day like that,” she said, still looking at the screen. “I’d go back in a second if I could change it.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Me too.”
She gave him an empathetic look and then rested her head against his shoulder. The solid comfort of having her against him smoothed the sharp edges of the memories that had surfaced.
They finished the movie in comfortable silence. When the credits started to roll, Andi turned off the TV and shifted her body to face him. “So, what’d you think?”
“I think that you, Andi Lockley, are a great curator of movies,” he said, meaning it. “This one was really different from the Halloween ones even though I assume it’d still be considered a slasher.”
“Yep. Definitely in the slasher genre.” She smiled and patted his cheek. “Look at you, learning and shit.”
“I have my moments. I also liked that it was darkly funny.” He gave her a mock serious look. “But…let’s talk about the true horror ramifications of that movie.”
She cocked her head. “Which is?”
“I’ll never be able to get 50 Cent’s ‘In Da Club’ out of my head ever again.” He tapped his temple. “Burned there. Permanently. Forever and ever, amen.”
She laughed. “Oh yeah, you’ll be stuck with that for days.”
She started humming and rapping the line “It’s your birthday.” He playfully put his hands over his ears.
She grabbed his wrists and pulled them away from his head. “Sorry not sorry.”
He smiled, his wrists still cuffed by her fingers. “I’m not sorry either. I like watching movies with you.”
“Yeah?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t find it annoying that I talk to the screen? My friends often throw popcorn at me.”
“Nope.” He noticed she wasn’t letting him go, and he shifted his body to face her fully. “It’s highly entertaining. I think half the time I was watching the movie, and the other half I was watching you watch the movie.”
Rosy color dotted her cheeks, bringing her faint freckles into relief. “I’m insufferable in a theater.”
“Nah. I can’t imagine you’re insufferable under any circumstance.”
“Don’t count those chickens yet. I’m bound to annoy you at some point,” she teased.
“Too late. Chickens counted.” She looked so pretty in the lamplight, her dark-red hair braided like some Renaissance woman, her blue eyes full of mischief, and her shirt sliding off her shoulder, giving him a peek of smooth, creamy skin and a thin purple bra strap. He wanted to kiss her right there, where her neck met her shoulder, wanted to know if the skin there felt as soft as it looked. He swallowed hard, trying to rein in the pictures his mind was weaving. Crock-Pot experiment.
She looked down at her hands, which were still holding his wrists. After a long moment, her voice was soft when she spoke again. “Hill?”
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice coming out tight.
She peeked up from under her lashes, worry there. “I want to kiss you some more, but…could you keep your hands by your sides?”
The request made his gut twist. He hated—hated—that Andi had been victimized, that she’d been saddled with this fear by some selfish, malicious asshole. He wished he could wave a wand and take it all from her, make her feel safe and powerful and in control. But there were no magic wands. He knew more than anyone how deep trauma cut, how lifelong those wounds could be.
What he could give her, though, was his word. “I won’t touch you unless you ask me to. I promise.”
She inhaled deeply, her shoulders rising with it, and then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you again for the last hour. You’re giving me exactly what I want.”
She smiled at that. “Benefits for both sides then.” She tucked her knees beneath her and lifted up, pressing his wrists down at his sides and against the couch cushions, bringing her breasts precariously close to his face before sitting back on her calves again. “You stay right there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She bit her lip, still smiling. “Okay, the way you say ‘ma’am’ is kind of hot.”
He laughed under his breath. “Andi Lockley, author, podcaster, budding sexual dominant.”
She cocked a brow and then swung her knee over, straddling his thighs and surprising the hell out of him. “Don’t give me any ideas. I do enjoy being in charge in other areas of my life.”
His tongue pressed to the back of his teeth at the feel of her straddling him, her hands on his shoulders, giving him a delicious view down her loose shirt. “Andi, feel free to get any goddamned ideas you want.”
Her fingers curled into his T-shirt, her gaze meeting his. “To be one hundred percent honest, my experience is extremely limited. So even though I’ve figured some things out on my own, I don’t know a lot about what I like and don’t like yet with guys.”
On my own.Aaaand he was done. Picturing Andi getting herself off was enough to send his starved libido into a seizure. All his blood rushed south, and his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He felt his ears go hot, embarrassed that he was on such a hair trigger. “Sorry. Obviously, I’m happy to be your test subject.”
Andi glanced down, her eyes widening slightly. But when she looked back up, instead of her expression saying Dude, control yourself, it seemed to be saying Well, hello there. She braced her hands on his shoulders and leaned down, putting her mouth a breath away from his. “I have to say, knowing I can do that with just words does feel pretty damn powerful.”
He wanted to reach out and touch her so badly, slide his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, feel her skin, kiss her neck, find out what sounds she made. But he kept his palms glued to the couch cushions. “It’s not just your words, Andi. If you haven’t noticed, you’re fucking gorgeous. And smart. And—”
Her lips touched his, cutting him off and making his eyelids fall shut. Her hands went to his jaw, holding him where she wanted him, and her tongue touched his. The kiss was hungrier than the ones earlier, more urgent, like she was daring herself to take it a little further. She deepened the kiss and shifted on his lap, settling against him, the hard ridge of his erection pressing at the apex of her thighs. He groaned into her mouth, the heat of her body apparent even through his jeans, and she made a delicious noise in the back of her throat. He lifted his hands, wanting to grab her waist, to angle her where he could make her feel even better, but he caught his mistake just in time. He planted his hands against the couch again.
Trust.Above all else, that was what she needed from him. To be able to trust his word.
He refused to let her down.
She broke away from the kiss, still holding his face in her hands. Her blue eyes were a little dazed, and she was out of breath. “I want your shirt off.”
“Then take it off,” he said. “I’ve been told not to use my hands.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, eyes smiling. “So you have.”
She reached for the bottom edge of his T-shirt and then lifted it over his head before tossing the shirt somewhere behind the couch. Her palm pressed against his chest, a hot brand of skin-to-skin contact.
A flash of insecurity went through him. In the past, he’d been proud of his body, working hard to keep in top shape for the fire department, but he didn’t look how he used to. He had scars from the fire, places where hair would never grow again, raised pink stripes where the edges of a burning wooden beam had landed on him.
But when he looked up at Andi’s face, the sharp edges of self-consciousness softened. He never claimed to know a woman’s mind, but right now, Andi’s poker face was nonexistent. That wasn’t the look of revulsion or pity. It was the look of a woman who wanted things. Who wanted him.
***
Andi had been prepared for the scars. She’d gotten a brief look that day she’d surprised Hill at his house, but what she hadn’t been prepared for was the full-body kick of arousal that shot through her at the sight of him without his shirt. She was already running hot, the feel of his erection pressing between her legs about to drive her mad. But now she wanted to touch him everywhere, kiss him everywhere, see all of him.
However, even in the haze of arousal, she knew she wasn’t ready for that step. She’d made that mistake the last time she’d tried something physical with a guy. She’d rushed, trying to outrun her anxiety, but it was faster and more cunning than she’d given it credit for. She needed to be careful not to go too fast too soon. If she got spooked, she could ruin this whole thing and set herself back.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t do some things, though.
She let her fingertips travel down the solid muscles of Hill’s chest, over the smooth, raised patches of scars, and then lower to the ridges of his abdomen. His belly flexed beneath her fingers as he hissed out a breath. “Andi.”
She loved the ache in his voice, the need. She liked knowing that she was getting to him as much as he was getting to her. And the fact that he hadn’t touched her, had kept his hands at his sides, gave her a burst of confidence. She reached down and pulled her top over her head, tossing it to the side, and leaving her in her lacy purple bra.
Hill’s gaze ate her up as he groaned softly. “Jesus. You’re perfect.”
His voice was pure sex. She could imagine it against her ear as he stretched out on top of her, pushed inside her. But the image was too much right now. If he lay on top of her, she’d panic for sure. So instead, she reached down and took his wrist in her hand again. She lifted his hand, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings against her ribs, and pressed his palm against her lace-covered breast. “You can touch me here.”
His eyes flared with heat, and he cupped her breast, the warmth and weight of his palm waking up every nerve ending there. His thumb brushed across her nipple, and her flesh tightened and pushed against the lace, sending a shudder of need through her.
“Can I kiss you here?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.
Andi swallowed past the knot in her throat and nodded. “As long as you promise to stop everything if I say stop.”
“Always.” His gaze bore into hers, his liquid brown eyes reflecting the lamplight. “I mean it. You say stop, slow down, back off, I’m going to listen. Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen, okay?”
She rubbed her lips together, the words winding their way through her, and she nodded. “Okay.”
“Come ’ere,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to her back and gently easing her forward. “Let me make you feel good.”
She let him guide her forward, pushing up on her knees and putting her breasts at eye level for him. Her heart was ready to pound out of her chest, but Hill started off gentle, brushing the tip of his nose against her skin, kissing her lightly along her collarbone, making her nerve endings strain for more. He kept his other hand loosely against the small of her back, giving her the ability to back off if she needed it, but that was the last thing she wanted to do in this moment. He murmured her name against her skin, his breath tickling her, and she arched against him, seeking more.
When his mouth closed over her lace-covered nipple, sensation sparked through her and she gasped, her fingers threading into the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place. His mouth was hot and wet around her, the pressure sending tendrils of arousal straight downward. “Hill.”
He tugged gently, and it felt as if he’d touched her everywhere, her whole body going sensitive and hungry. Without thinking, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She needed more of him, skin to skin. Hill lifted his hand without pulling away and slid her bra strap down her shoulder, freeing one arm and exposing her fully to him. She was trembling. She didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation but probably both.
However, when his tongue stroked against her bared breast, any fear trying to break through vaporized. “Holy shit.”
Hill hummed against her skin in clear approval and teased her nipple with his mouth, while cupping her other breast and stroking with his thumb. His beard tickled her skin, just the right amount of soft and abrasive to set her nerve endings aflame. Her head tipped back, and her body rocked against him, pressure building deep inside her. Yes, yes, this. Colors danced behind her eyelids, and her pulse felt as if it was pounding between her legs.
It’d been years since she’d been touched by someone else and never like this, never with this much focused attention. Hill wasn’t just kissing her body as a means to an end or a journey to the big event. This was the event. He made wherever he kissed the center of the universe. Like if that square inch of skin was all he had to work with, by golly, he was going to slay it.
“Hill,” she panted, the pressure building hot and urgent, “I need…but… God.”
He pulled away for a moment and looked up at her, his lips shiny and his pupils black with lust. “Do you need to come, Andi?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.Her throat tightened. “I’m not ready for sex.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” he said, voice full of confident promise. “I can help. You don’t even have to take your jeans off, but you’d have to trust me to touch you.”
She considered him, her body aching for what he was offering, and finally nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently, soothing some of the nerves that were trying to surface. When her body relaxed again, he let go of her face and kissed down her chest. She was dizzy with arousal, trying not to overthink things and get in her head. But she didn’t have to worry long because while his mouth was occupied with her breast, his hand slid down, and he pressed the heel of it between her legs over her jeans. The simple pressure shouldn’t have been intense with a layer of denim between them, but lightning streaked down her thighs as his hand put pressure against her clit.
Oh. Oh.
He rocked his hand against her, and she matched his rhythm, her fingertips digging into his shoulders. It’d been so long since any hand had touched her but her own that the sheer novelty of sensation had her rocketing toward climax.
“Hill,” she gasped. “Please.”
His teeth grazed her nipple, and he circled the heel of his hand against her. That was all it took. Her orgasm burst through her, making her cry out and surprising her with the blunt force of it. She held on to his shoulders, angling her body against him, riding out the delicious relief and losing all sense of where she was for a few blissful moments.
When every ounce of her energy was sapped, she sank back onto his thighs, panting, the cool air of the room rushing along her overheated skin and her clit pulsing along with her heartbeat. Her head dipped between her shoulders, and she gripped her thighs, trying to regain her balance.
Hill squeezed her knee gently. “You okay?”
She took a steadying breath and lifted her head, finding Hill with searching eyes and a furrowed brow. She nodded. “I’d say I’m very okay. That was… Thank you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted and his brow softened. “Thank you back.”
Her gaze tracked down to the very obvious erection pushing at the fly of his jeans. Only then did she remember that she had gotten her pleasure, but she hadn’t done a thing for him. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me. That looks uncomfortable.”
He shrugged. “Worth it. That was sexy as hell, Andi. You are sexy as hell.”
“Do you need me to…” She didn’t know exactly what she was offering. Part of her wanted to touch him, make him feel good, but reality was starting to creep in. She could feel the first fingers of anxiety trying to reach into her brain.
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I don’t need you to do anything. I’m a grown man. I won’t die from a hard-on.” He reached to the other side of the couch and grabbed her shirt. He handed it back to her. “Here, you’re shivering.”
Gratitude moved through her. Somehow he’d sensed she needed some armor back. She tugged her shirt on, not bothering with finding her bra. “Thanks.”
He helped her climb off his lap and found his own shirt hanging off her shelf of DVDs. He pulled it over his head and then joined her back on the couch. He gave her an evaluating look. “You sure you’re okay?”
She lifted her hand and pinched the air between her thumb and forefinger, offering him a small smile. “I may be freaking out just a little bit. But not because of you. You were… That was…great. You’re an excellent…experiment buddy.”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling with it. “Your dirty talk is on point, Lockley.”
She snorted, but the little joke eased some of the tension coursing through her. She didn’t need to overthink this. Hill had made her feel good, and he’d kept his promise, letting her take the lead on things and not pushing for anything more. She leaned over and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Thank you for trusting me. And for a great movie night.”
“What movie did we watch again?” she asked. “I can’t seem to remember a thing that happened before the last half hour.”
He smirked. “Good. That’s called a job well done.”
“We should do this again,” she said, forcing herself to be brave. “The movie and the making out. And possibly you cooking more things for me.”
He lifted a finger and pointed. “I didn’t cook. You did. Your taco-making skills are top-notch now.”
Her lips curved. “That’s because you’re a great teacher.” She lifted a brow. “You know how I get when I talk about horror movies and books? How I get all fast-talking and excited?”
He gave her an affectionate look. “Hard to miss.”
“Well, that’s how you are when you’re talking about food,” she said. “You’re a complete cooking geek. It’s kind of adorable.”
“Nah,” he said dismissively. “Horror’s your passion. Cooking’s just something I learned how to do.”
“Bullshit.” She poked his shoulder. “You waxed poetic about tomatoes and flank steak. You don’t just like cooking. You nerd out about it. And you like teaching other people about it.”
He grabbed the finger she’d poked him with and kissed the tip of it. “Maybe I just like teaching you. You’re pretty and a very good student.”
She put her hand to her chest. “Well, obviously I am an absolute joy to teach, but I think this has much less to do with my charming ability to start fires in the kitchen and more with your natural ability to teach.” She nodded toward him. “You should do more of that. You could do online videos or something.”
A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Of me cooking?”
“Yeah, teaching people to cook. Lord knows a lot of people are in need of it.” She gave him an up-and-down look. “Plus, you’d look damn good in an apron. People would watch you.”
He scoffed. “No, they wouldn’t. I’m not a chef. The TV and internet are full of professionals showing people how to cook. I’m just some dude who used to cook for his fellow firefighters.”
“But that’s what makes you perfect. You’re self-taught. You break it down for people like me because you used to be someone like me. And you make down-to-earth food.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Thanks for the suggestion. But how about I stick to teaching you for now?”
She narrowed her eyes, an idea coming to her, but she tucked it away in the For Later Consideration folder in her brain. “Fine. I will accept my own private chef lessons for now.” She tucked her knees beneath her. “But give it some thought. Life’s too short not to do the things that make us happy. If cooking makes you happy, you should do that.”
He propped his elbow on the back of the couch, leaning his head against his fist and looking at her. “How about right now I teach you how to make the perfect hot fudge sundae?”
“An orgasm and ice cream? This night keeps getting better.” She climbed off the couch and put her hand out to him. “Hell yes. You are definitely the best research buddy ever.”
He put his hand in hers and let her pull him to a stand. “I try.”
A rush of warmth went through her. Hill did more than try. He listened. He hadn’t pushed or rushed her. He hadn’t cajoled. But more than that, he hadn’t made her feel wrong or broken for being the way she was. He’d simply been with her in that moment, meeting her where she was and seeming to enjoy what they were doing as much as she did.
That didn’t feel like trying. That felt special.
And dangerous.
This was a guy getting over a bad breakup and a catastrophic injury. He wasn’t here for anything more than a friendship and some physical connection. He’d told her as much. She needed to remember that.
She needed to be careful with this one.
More than that, she needed to be careful with herself.