Page 95 of Play Me
“This is a part of Hartley’s property, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“You could’ve led with that,” she says, watching me rummage through a bin in my back seat.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I tug the quilt Mom gave me when I turned sixteen from the bottom of the container. Along with our first set of keys, she gave Hartley and me quilts, first-aid kits, and an emergency whistle “just in case.” We either kept it all in our vehicles, or we didn’t drive. It’s a habit that I have never broken.
Astrid gets out of the truck as I’m opening the tailgate.
The weather is warm with just a hint of crispness in the air now that the sun has gone down, and I hop into the bed and spread the quilt over the bottom.
“This view is amazing,” she says, staring up at the sky. “Look at how many stars there are. It’s so pretty.” When she turns back at me, she stills.
“I can guarantee that my view right now is even prettier.” I hold out my hand. “Come up here with me.”
She lays her hand in mine and places a foot on the small step by the tailgate, and I then hoist her up.
We’re eye to eye, chest to chest. Breaths ragged. Expectations high.
Things just got very,veryreal.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Astrid
Things just gotsofreaking real.
I listen to Gray’s breath cut through the silence of the night, the tempo quick and hurried—matching mine. A gentle breeze ruffles the ends of his hair beneath his hat, lifting his woodsy cologne and taunting me with it.Like I need to be teased anymore.
Five minutes ago, I knew exactly what I was doing. I weighed the pros and cons of having sex with Gray and decided the risk was worth the potential reward. My logical brain deduced that. But here we are, precisely where I asked to be, and the alarm bells are ringing in my head.
“So,” I say, forcing a smile, “here’s the thing. It’s not my favorite thing about myself, but it is a part of who I am.” I heave a breath. “I overthink things.”
“You don’t say?”
My smile is wide … and real. “I know that I just spent the truck ride telling you that this is what I want—and it is,” I add quickly. “But I talk a good game, and I know that I seem like thekind of woman who knows what she wants. You’d be surprised to learn that I’m a lot more nervous than you might think.”
“About what, Astrid?”
“Oh, life. Relationships. Sex.” I pause. “You.”
He brushes a lock of hair off my shoulder with the gentlest touch. “Do you want my honest take?”
“On what?”
He grins. “You.”
“Um, I don’t know. That depends on what you have to say.”
His chuckle rumbles through me. “I think your tough-girl act is a mask that you hide behind to protect yourself.” He searches my eyes for a reaction—one I struggle to keep from him, mostly because I’m not sure how I feel about him nailing me so easily.Although, I’d love for him to nail me in other ways right now. “And believe it or not, I can relate in a lot of ways.”
I take in a shaky breath and exhale it with my whole body.
“If I were a betting man,” he says, “I’d guess that you protect yourself because you’ve never been safe enough to relax.”
His words are a shot to my heart. They’re a key that unlocks a lockbox filled with my truths.How does he know this about me?
