Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(42)
Whatever it is has a heavy ball of emotion curling around my throat, tightening and tightening until I’m forced to clear my throat and drop my hand. Ignoring the flash of pain in my chest, I offer Braden a weak smile before rolling onto my back, my head colliding with a thick pillow. A pillow that smells more like him than he does. It sticks to my skin and swirls in my belly. I get the urge to kick my legs in blooming frustration like a kid having a hissy fit. Instead, I settle for hopping out of bed and hightailing out of the room, into the bathroom.
“Gotta pee!” I call out before shutting the door and twisting the lock. After flipping on the light, I fumble with sweaty hands to grip the edge of the sink, reigning in my sigh as the coolness of the porcelain soothes my hot palms like cold water to a fresh burn.
No distractions, Sierra. It was one simple rule. Dealing with the heartache that came after Logan has already set me back. With the days I spent in bed, calling into work and using each one of my collected sick days until they were gone and my boss was threatening a pay cut if I didn’t return ASAP, I felt like my world was collapsing down on me like a damn house of cards. I busted my ass to reclaim my life after that, with a promise to never allow myself to fall into that place again. A place where even the thought of grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge or brushing my teeth felt like an unattainable task.
Braden is a living breathing distraction. He’s a thorn in my side. A pest of the worst kind, like a bed bug who continuously finds a spot to hide when the bedding is washed and the room is fumigated, overstaying the hell out of its welcome.
I’m angry with myself for allowing this playboy to weasel his way into my life when I don’t even know his last name. I don’t have answers to the simplest questions. Like, does he have a big family? Did he have any pets growing up? Is he even from Vancouver or did he move here when he was younger? If so, where did he move from?
Shit. I’ve really done it this time. And the worst part may be that even though I know I shouldn’t, I want an answer to every single one of those questions.
The street outside my apartment is dark and empty, void of human life. The time by the car radio shows that it’s just past midnight, so I’m not surprised. I can’t say that I’m usually awake at this hour on a typical Sunday night either.
My hands are clasped and tucked between my thighs so that I don’t fidget with them. The silence in the small car is deafening. It feels wrong, I feel out of place.
It wasn’t even ten minutes after I stumbled out of Braden’s bathroom that I asked—or begged, I guess—for him to drive me home. Sure, I could say that I just didn’t want to call a cab this late and risk getting stuck with a driver who would have talked my ear off about how the gas prices are rising and global warming is a hoax. But I had wanted to spend more time with Braden, even though I shouldn’t.
He didn’t argue when I asked, didn’t beg me to stay the night, and I was grateful for his understanding, even though my request could have been seen as alarming. It wasn’t until he led me out of his apartment building, a strong hand resting on my lower back, that I realized he might know me a bit better than I had originally thought. That didn’t scare me as much as I expected it to.
The fact that I’m not more scared, is what scares me the most. Ironic, right?
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, hoping that I don’t sound as disappointed as I feel.
His fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel and he nods, still looking out the windshield, jaw tight. I’m sure that either one of us would be able to hear a pin drop in the backseat right about now.
After a strong swallow, I offer him a tight smile and unclasp my hands so that I can pull open the car door. But the minute they lay flat on my thighs, he’s collecting them in his large, strong ones, squeezing like he doesn’t exactly know what to do with them now. His thumbs rubs along the top of my hands, and I sigh, long and hard while my eyes flutter shut for a second. When I open them again, I find Braden watching me with a look that I recognize as one that I’ve seen him wear only a handful of times. Vulnerability.
“I need to walk you inside, okay?” he asks firmly, and I open my mouth to agree but he cuts me off before I start. “Don’t bother arguing with me either. I just want to make sure you get inside safely.”
I shake my head and laugh lightly, feeling the sound bubbling in my chest and ears. “Okay. Walk me inside.”
He looks taken aback by my easy acceptance, but brushes it off with a wide-spread grin. With a final squeeze of my hands, he lets them both go and we step outside, the slam of one door followed closely by the other. He meets me on the sidewalk and like earlier, places a firm hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the building.
When we reach the doors, he reaches in front of me to pull it open, holding it with a strong arm until I’ve walked through the doorway, shooting him a look of pure amusement over my shoulder. I have to use my fist to stifle my laugh when I catch him ducking his head to make it through the doorway. Sometimes I forget that he’s taller than any guy that I’ve ever been with. All thick thighs and corded calves. He makes my five-nine height look embarrassing.
Once I’ve unlocked the second door and we’ve walked up the stairs to my second floor apartment, I feel all the happiness from only a second prior fizzle out of me, annoyance taking its place.