Page 79 of Hell Bent
Sebastian had just come back from the bathroom. He climbed into bed, put a gentle hand on my cheek, kissed the other one, and said, “Yeah, that’s a horrible picture.”
I did my best to glare. “In my Carhartts. That is not sexy.”
“Sorry, baby.” Another kiss, and then he was rubbing his cheek over mine. Eventhatmade me shudder, that’s how sensitive I was by that point. “It is. Makes me want to pick you up from work, take you home, see for myself, and do it all again.”
“I’ll be muddy,” I reminded him. “And sweaty.”
“And yet …” he said before pulling back, smiling into my eyes, and saying, “You are one fantastic fuck.”
My mouth opened, and not in a good way. Then I laughed. He laughed, too, and said, “Sorry. No good?”
“Are you kidding? Did you notice how many times I came? At all?”
“I knowthatwas good. I was referring to my language.”
“Oh.” I considered it. “I’m afraid that if you’re that good at it, I’m going to let you say whatever you like.”
“Excellent news.” He rubbed his cheek over mine again. “You do realize that every time I see you from now on, all I’m going to want to do is take you to bed.”
“I am not that good in bed. I never have been. I told you. I’m?—”
“Sorry,” he said. “I think you’re going to have to defer to the voice of experience here.” And yawned. “OK to turn out the light? And how’s your nose?”
I kissed his mouth. Gently, because of said nose, and because … well, probably because I was grateful. “I’m fine,” I assured him. “Naked, sleepy, swollen. All my clothes ruined. And fine. Thanks for asking whether you could do … that.” I smiled then, slow and satisfied. “And then doing it.”
He smiled back, and that was the two of us, our hands on each other’s faces, before he turned out the light, I turned onto my other side, he put a gentle arm over my chest, and I drifted into sleep. Knowing I hadn’t asked him enough questions about his day, and also knowing that he’d been right, and this had been more comfort than anything I could have said. And feeling a way I wasn’t sure I ever had, or had ever wanted to.
Protected. Secure. Desired.
Safe.
31
PREGAME SHOW
Sebastian
On the team bus in snowy Buffalo on our way to the stadium, and I was checking my phone. Alix would be heading into work now. Before seven on Saturday morning, Portland-rainy and cold and not even light yet, and she’d be driving from my place, where she’d stayed with Ben last night. And hadnotmentioned her birthday to me, even though it was in two days. I had a bet with myself about whether she’d ever do it. So far, I was winning.
Of course, by the time she’d got to my apartment last night, I’d been in the hotel room here and trying to sleep. That was the hardest thing about playing on the East Coast: trying to get to sleep three hours before your body wanted to do it, because you had to play a football game the next day, especially when that game is, according to your body, happening at ten in the morning and you have to be up many hours beforehand. It’s not like you have any adrenaline running through your body at the prospect of that playoff game or anything.
That was why, when she’d texted me,I’m at your place.Ben’s good. Excited about your game, I think. Nervous for you,I hadn’t texted back “Thanks,” or whatever. I’d hit the button to video call her instead.
“Hey,” she’d said, sounding strong and confident and composed. A littletoocomposed. No makeup, hair in a ponytail, and looking good. Looking like Alix. “How are you doing?”
“Good. Trying to get myself ready to sleep. How was work?”
“Sebastian.” She laughed, and then I heard the sound of a door closing and saw a bed in the background, which meant I shoved a pillow behind my back and got comfortable. Shutting the door was a good sign. “Work was dirty, wet, and cold. We pulled wire, amazingly enough. I think you’d better tell me howyourwork was.”
“I rode on a big airplane with all my friends,” I said. “And then on a big bus. We didn’t sing songs.”
“We’re some fabulous conversationalists,” she said, and I laughed.
“Did you guys eat?” I asked.
“Yes. Ben said you said to order food, but that he had to let me pick it. It was a good idea to get him a credit card. I just hope you didn’t put too high a limit on it, because he was talking about video games again tonight. ‘I can’t even play NFL Street, and my uncle’s an NFL player! If I ever make any friends here, that’s going to be, like, totally humiliating. Thomas and I went to the Museum of Science and Industry instead today. That would’ve been great if I wore Marvel T-shirts and hung my phone on my belt. Or if I was ten. Or it was the 1950s.’ Much whining, but he also told me about touring the submarine when he forgot that it had been boring, so I suspect it wasn’t absolutely horrible. We got Mediterranean.”
“Ah,” I said. “Vegetables.”
