Page 38 of Craving the Player

The weight of his words doesn’tfail to fall on my wounded pride, making it burn like lemon juice squirted into an open wound. Ifeel squashed down by the unrealistic expectations of everyone around me to the point of pure exhaustion. Ifeel tired. Tired of having to continue to prove myself time and time again. Of feeling like nothing Ido is ever good enough for anybody else. Of never living up to the expectations of my parents.

Any strength to continue this fight floats away, leaving me deflated. My shoulders sag forward and my eyelids begin to droop. Thankfully, my sister, wherever she is, decides that this conversation is over when Idon’tsay another word.

“Get the hell out of here, Logan,” she says, voice way too calm and controlled. Slim fingers slip around my wrist and lead me into the car, the door already open. Idon’tremember her opening it.

Clare gingerly helps me slip onto the seat while Iserve her alook that says “Ican do it myself.” She simply shrugs me off and pulls the seatbelt enough that Ican grab it easily and click it into place.

Clearing my throat, Islap on abarely there smile and nod once. She sighs but takes astep back, closing my door and getting in the driver'sseat. No words are said as she starts the engine and pulls out of the lot, merging onto the street. The radio plays quietly, just loud enough to help fill the void of aconversation that Idon’twant to have.

My head falls against the window and my eyes have only begun to flutter shut when my phone vibrates in my purse. Idebate whether or not to pull it out and look, worried that it might be Logan deciding that the conversation was in fact, not over. But Idecide to reach into my purse and pull it out regardless, not wanting to start hiding from my past now.

My stomach lurches when Isee the text lighting up the screen.

Braden:Come over. Ineed to see you.

Tapping my finger on the screen, Ichew on my bottom lip, wanting to immediately say no, but stopping myself before Ido. Go over to Braden’shouse? To what? Get another pity fuck? There’sno hidden reason as to why he wants me to go see him. There would only be one reason for going over . . . and Iknow that it would help get my mind off of everything that’sbeen dredged up tonight, pity fuck or not.

Ah. Fuck it.

Sierra:On my way.

No turning back now. “Change of plans, Clare. I’mnot going home.”

Braden flops down on the bed beside me with asatisfied sigh, wearing awicked grin that has me questioning my sanity. Our eyes meet, his somehow glowing in the darkness of his bedroom and apuddle of warmth settles in my belly.

The overhanging feeling of confusion that blanketed my shoulders when Iarrived earlier—watching Braden eye met up with aless guarded, more attentive expression compared to the last time we were together—has been lifted, replaced with one of satisfaction that Idon’tdare try to mess with. There are questions that Iwant to ask and things that Iwant to say. But they can wait for atime where my heart isn’tracing and the delicious throb between my legs has disappeared.

“Shit, Sierra. Ithink you’ve ruined me for anyone else.” He’snearly beaming, his expression so calm and collected, so at peace, while Istruggle to hide the surprise from mine. Sometimes it’simpossible to understand this man. He seems to sort through and understand his emotions like it’sthe easiest concept in the world.

Iflip on my side and prop myself up on my elbow, eyeing the dimple in Braden’sleft cheek. “How do you do that?”

He turns his face, an eyebrow cocked as he asks, “Do what?”

Ilick my lips to combat how dry they are and don’tbother hiding my smile when he watches the movement without blinking. “Act so calm. You don’ttry to keep how you feel to yourself. Idon’tknow how to do that.”

There’sasmall part of me that questions whether or not entertaining small talk in bed with this attractive, rough-around-the-edges man will only get me in trouble down the road, but the bigger part of me says to go with it. So Ido.

He seems to gnaw on my confession, two bushy, chestnut-brown eyebrows knitting together in thought. The scar that runs through his left brow has to be pretty old as it’snothing more than athin white line now. Before Iknow it I’mtracing the scarred flesh with my finger, feeling the smooth skin surrounded by rough short hairs and wondering how he got it. Did he get in afight when he was younger? Or was he arowdy little boy who smacked his head on anything and everything? If he was, Ihope he’sat least apologized to his mom.

My finger stills its movements when he, whether consciously or subconsciously, leans into my touch, pressing his cheek into my palm and hums adeep, raspy sound of satisfaction that Istore away for later.

After afew quiet seconds he speaks, his voice quiet and raspy, eyes cautious, observing. “There are certain things that Ido keep to myself. Tons of things, actually.”

Idon’tbother hiding my curiosity. He can see it in my open expression. I’msure that'swhy he chuckles, briefly shaking his head.

My elbow gives out and Irest my shoulder on the bed, stretching out my legs with ayawn. The long hairs on his calf rub the top of my foot as Imove it back and forth along the cold sheet. “Could have fooled me.”

Idon’tmiss the way he winces after I’ve spoken, but before Ihave the chance to ask him about it, he fumbles over two otherwise simple words. “I’msorry.” Awarm palm grips the meaty part of my thigh, afew inches above my knee, and hooks it over his hip. “For what happened last time. If I’mbeing honest, Ididn’tthink you would answer my text earlier, let alone actually come.”

Iblow out abreath. “Yeah, you were acomplete asshole. Ialmost told you to go to hell. Maybe Ishould have.”

Imean, Iwasn’tgoing to text him that, but there’sno harm in making him sweat. Just because Icouldn’thelp wanting to scratch an itch that only Braden seems to be able to soothe recently doesn’tnecessarily mean that all is forgiven and forgotten. How he treated me the last time we were together felt like Iwas receiving apunishment for acrime that Ididn’tcommit. It was completely unfair. Iwasn’tsure whether to be offended, hurt, or confused as Istood in the shower, under the scalding water, praying that when Igot out that morning, Braden was long gone, never to be seen again.

There’sno doubt in my mind that if Sophie would have been the one that Iasked to drop me off at Braden’safter everything I’ve told her, that Iwould have asore head right now from her smacking it around, trying to shake some sense into me. And there’sapart of me that would have let her shake and shake and shake until the last thing that Iwanted was to be even in the same vicinity as this jerk. But there’salso that stupid, stupid part of me that didn’teven register the past when it made it’sdecision, encouraging me to just go for it and live. To say fuck what happened and take what Iwant. And again, Ilistened to that stupid, naive part of me. Like Ihave been since the moment Imet Braden.

But now here Iam. Finally receiving an apology from aguy that I’mpretty sure has only allowed himself to apologize ahandful of times in his entire life.

Amuscle ticks in his cheek, under the thick skin of my fingertips. My thumb traces the sharp lines of his jaw from the tip of his earlobe to the bottom of his chin. The air is thick as Idraw it into my lungs and say, “I’mguessing your explanation for the other night falls in the category of things that you do keep to yourself, huh?”

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