Page 17 of The Worst Man

He stared at me intently as if I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite work out. In the background, the buzzer announcing our flight’s bags had arrived sounded and the carousel began circling the baggage claim area. “I think what I’m struggling to understand is why you would want to,” he said eventually.

I twisted my head from left to right dramatically. “I’m sorry. I’m looking for the man I was just sitting next to. Have you seen him anywhere?”

Hank rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “I know. I’m just …” he trailed off, leaving the thought unspoken.

“Just what?” I asked, taking a further step back from him. If he was going to tell me he thought we should call this whole thing off after I’d just spent the last two days convincing myself that it could work, I didn’t want to be within striking distance of him. I’d never punched anyone before in my life, but he thought he could toy with my emotions like that, I just might be tempted to give it a try.

“I guess I’m just waiting for you to realize you’ve made a mistake.”

One by one, my fingers unclenched from the balled up fist I hadn’t known I’d made. “Funny,” I said, “because I was just thinking the same thing.”

I took hold of his hand and dragged him over to a corner where no other passengers were standing so we could have the rest of this conversation in relative private. “If you don’t want to be married to me, I need you to say so right now. No harm, no foul. We can go back to the way things were before Vegas. We can pretend like this never happened, and go on with our lives. Separately.” My gaze darted away from his, hearing the lie even as it slipped from my lips. The truth was, no matter what happened between us in the future, I’d never be able to look at Hank the way I had before. Going back to hating him simply wasn’t an option now.

“You’d be able to do that?”

We stared at each other, our gazes locked in a silent face off for what felt like ages. His eyes were unreadable, but his jaw was set in a firm line, and every couple of seconds his temple pulsed as if he was grinding his teeth.

This conversation was going in circles—questions being answered with more questions—and until someone admitted what they really thought about this situation, it would continue on that way. I’d never been afraid to let Hank know exactly what was on my mind, so why was I so hesitant to start now?

Because everything has changed, my subconscious whispered. You’ve had his dick inside of you. There’s no going back from that.

I blew out a breath and my shoulders slumped in on themselves. “No, I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Me either,” he admitted, his words coming in a rush as he yanked me into his arms and crushed me to his middle. “I don’t want to go back to how things were before. I want you in my life, Miranda. Improbable as it is, I can’t imagine myself settling down with anyone but you.”

I leaned back and looked up at him. “Let’s promise each other that we’ll always communicate with each other.

“Deal,” he said, kissing my forehead. “And in the spirit of communicating, we should probably discuss a few pretty important details.”

“Such as?”

“For starters,” he said, suddenly letting go of me to grab our luggage from the carousel before they passed us by. Setting my bag down and raising the handle, he spun it my way. “There’s the small matter of where we’re going to live. Last I checked, married couples slept together under the same roof.”

At his mention of sleeping in the same bed, my cheeks heated and my lady parts practically shouted with joy. Prior to Hank, it had been almost a year since I’d last had sex, and now that the dry spell had been broken, I wanted it all the damn time. He had turned me into a fiend, his very own succubus. Fitting since Hank’s area of expertise was the supernatural as it was represented in folklore throughout the ages.

“We definitely need to figure that one out,” I agreed, firmly putting all thoughts of stripping him naked and having my evil way with him from my mind. “I live in a four hundred square foot one bedroom apartment near campus. Not great for one person, let alone two.”

Side by side, we rolled our luggage out of the terminal and out onto the walkway rimming the arrivals terminal. He lifted his chin, motioning toward a lot a few hundred feet away that was filled with waiting cars. “My driver should be waiting over there. What do you say you come back to my place tonight and we can figure this all out over some takeout?”

I opened my mouth to say that I should really get back to my place but then closed it. The only thing waiting for me at home was a stack of research that I needed to go through for the paper I was writing and a box of cold pizza from four days ago. Both could wait. “That sounds great.”

We crossed the street and when we reached the sleek black car, Hank handed our luggage off to a driver he addressed by first name and then we slid into the back seat, the sound of the world around us fading to nothing as the heavy doors slammed shut. I buckled my seatbelt and then swiveled in my seat to face him at an angle. “I realize I don’t actually know where you live. I always assumed you had some sleek, shiny bachelor pad in one of those new expensive condos down by the waterfront.”

“You’ve thought about where I live?” he asked, his tone somewhat surprised. But then he smirked, and instantly I knew I’d regret the admission. “You were picturing what my bed looked like, weren’t you? Don’t worry. It’s big enough for both of us.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and my cheeks flamed with mortification.

I dropped my eyes down to my lap so he wouldn’t see the truth written in them. I would go to my grave before I admitted this to anyone—least of all Hank—but a couple of months ago I’d woken up from a dream hot and sweaty and my core pulsing. In it, I’d gone over to Hank’s place to yell at him for something. The dream wasn’t clear about what. In the midst of our back and forth, he’d pushed me up against the wall and kissed me roughly, his hands speared in my hair, his teeth nipping at my lips. “It’s the only way I could think to shut you up,” Dream Hank had said, his chest sawing in and out with labored breaths as he stared down at my lips with hunger flashing in his deep blue eyes. Dream me had thrown myself at him then, at which point he’d tossed me over his shoulder and marched us down the hallway to his bedroom. He threw me down onto his bed where I was surprised to find I was already naked. With no further words exchanged between us, he unzipped his jeans, climbed over me, and drove into me in one hard, punishing thrust. I’d come right then and there. That was when I’d woken up, and realizing what I’d been dreaming about, had vaulted out of bed and into the shower where I’d shamefully given myself another orgasm and then scrubbed the shame from my body with a brand new loofah.

He took hold of my hand and laced our fingers together. “I can see from the look on your face that you have. It’s okay, I’ve jerked off to you more times than I can count.”

My head shot up. “You have?” Now who was the surprised one?

He nodded, and his gaze dropped to my lips. Without conscious thought, my tongue flicked out to wet the bottom one. I rolled it between my teeth, and Hank groaned and readjusted his seat. “A particular fantasy of mine involves us in my shower. You’re down on your knees with my cock in your mouth and your fingers between your legs.”

My stomach clenched, but not with the response I expected. The last time a man had wanted me down on my knees blowing him, we’d ended up breaking up a few hours later. But the idea of prostrating myself in front of Hank didn’t sound horrible. In fact, I could picture the scenario he’d just painted quite vividly, and I was keen to give it a try. I couldn’t say for sure what the difference was, but I suspected it had something to do with the fact that Hank’s fantasy involved my pleasure as well as his own, whereas Samuel had wanted my hands tied behind my back, leaving me completely at his whims. Whatever it was, I felt myself growing hot, my blood warming with anticipation.

I lifted my arm and reached behind my neck, looping my hair over one shoulder. I pulled a strand between my fingers and bent my face forward to smell it. As I did, I kept my gaze meaningfully locked on Hank. “The first thing I do after I fly is take a shower to wash the plane stink out of my hair.”

Hank’s face split into a slow, wolfish grin. “My, my. Mrs. Talbot. You continue to surprise me.”

“I continue to surprise myself as well,” I admitted. “Now tell me more about this shower of yours.”

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