Page 18 of Until Hanna

“Yeah, I try to see my parents every couple of months when my schedule allows.”

“Where are they?”

“Just outside of Nashville in Tennessee.”

“My sister lives in Nashville with her husband and son.”

“Have you been?”

“A couple of times.” His fingers tighten on mine. “I don’t get back to the States very often.”

“What about your parents?” I ask as we walk through the lobby after exiting the elevator.

“They live in Washington state.” Since he doesn’t willingly add more, I don’t ask the questions I want to—ones that are inappropriate in this situation, because they’re things you’d ask if you’re dating someone. Like, “are you close?” or “what do they do for a living?” Instead, I allow the comfortable silence to settle between us as we get into a cab.

With almost no traffic, we arrive at my hotel in less than ten minutes, and as soon as we get up to my room, I tell him to make himself comfortable while I go directly to the bathroom and start up the shower. Even if I don’t have lots of time to spare, I still wash my hair and go through my entire routine before getting out and wrapping a towel around myself. Brushing my teeth, as I stand in front of the mirror, my towel slips, allowing me a glimpse of the marks he left on my breast, ones that match the marks I spotted in the shower on my lower belly, right above my pubic bone. I can’t remember a guy ever leaving me with a physical reminder of us being together—certainly never ones that looked like some kind of claim.

Trying not to think too much into the possessiveness of his marks, I finish brushing my teeth and wrap my towel tighter around myself, then open the bathroom door. Before I even step into the bedroom, I can hear him on the phone talking to someone in Spanish. So with my hair still dripping wet, I go to my bag and start digging through it for a swimsuit to wear, while avoiding looking at where I know he’s lounging on my bed and watching me.

Finding a pair of bottoms, I put them on under my towel, then find the matching top that looks similar to a sports bra. I turn away from him and put it on over my head before dropping the towel, pulling the swim top down completely. Once I get my wet hair free from the straps, I turn back to the bed, and the moment my gaze slides up to his, my cheeks warm.

“That color looks good on you,” he says, the phone still pressed to his ear. His voice is deep and gravelly and makes the space between my legs tingle, as it rolls across my skin. You would think that after last night, some of the sexual tension between us would’ve cooled, but it’s obvious it hasn’t. If anything, it might be worse, now that I know exactly what he’s capable of doing to me.

“Thanks.” I pull my eyes from his and start looking through my bag for something to wear over my suit, finding a simple black cotton spaghetti-strap dress that reaches mid thigh. Putting it on, I avoid looking at him again and go back to the bathroom. I quickly brush my hair and put it into a tight French braid, then lather myself with sunscreen. When I’m done, I walk back into the bedroom, where he’s now up and off the phone.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” I gather my beach bag and towel along with my cell that has been charging. It only takes a few minutes to get downstairs to the lobby, and when we’re outside, I give a cabdriver the address for the snorkeling place. It’s not far from the hotel, and if I had more time, we could walk. But this morning, I’m short on time.

We reach the small building near the beach in less than fifteen minutes, and I outmaneuver Walker before we get out of the cab and pass the driver some money for the ride. Probably way more than I should have, judging by the happy smile and about a dozen thanks he gives me before we even get out of the car.

Stepping into the simple gray building, I look around. The walls are covered with photos of people either diving or snorkeling, and there are racks of wetsuits and equipment behind the counter.

“Morning,” a very attractive man with a thick Spanish accent greets us when he steps through the door behind us, wearing a gray shirt with the same logo on it as the sign hanging outside.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Antonio.” I smile, then look up at Walker when he gets close to my side and wraps his arm around my waist.

“That’s me. You are?” I focus on the man now walking across the room.

“Hanna.”

“Great.” He goes behind the counter and picks up a clipboard. “I just have a little paperwork for you to fill out, and once everyone else arrives, we’ll head down to the beach to go over some things before we take the boat to where we will be snorkeling.”

“Awesome.” I take the clipboard when he passes it over and begin to fill it out, with Walker watching.

“Have you snorkeled before?” Antonio asks, and I glance up at him.

“I haven’t had the chance, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“So, I get to pop your cherry, as you Americans say.” He grins.

“I guess so.” I laugh.

“I’m going with her,” Walker snaps through the room startling me, and his fingers clamp around my hip as Antonio focuses on him.

“It’s $150 for the trip she signed up for.”

I don’t look up at Walker to see what he does, but he must give some kind of signal of agreement, because Antonio reaches for a second clipboard and passes it over to him. Biting my bottom lip, I sign my name on the line of my form and hand it to Antonio.

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