Playing for Keeps (The Game #2)(25)
Author: Emma Hart

“You don’t throw my books. Ever,” I tell him firmly. His lips twitch. “I mean it. Next time you throw one of my babies, especially a favorite, I will hurt you.”

He schools his face into a serious expression and climbs onto the bed, kneeling in front of me. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, cupping the side of my face. “I won’t throw one of your books ever again.”

I smile at him, turning my cheek into his palm. “You damn well better not.”

Aston touches his lips to mine and slides his hand round to the back of my head. He lowers me back on the bed slowly, his mouth moving against mine tenderly.

“I just realized that Braden is in classes all day. Which means I have you all to myself for a while.” His lips travel along my jaw. “So there’s no damn way you’re reading a f**king book when you could be doing this.” He runs a hand down my side and slips it under my shirt, his hand rough against my skin.

I arch my back into him slightly, my hands easing their way up his arms to his shoulders and neck as his lips find their way to mine. The hairs at the nape of his neck tickle. I curl my fingers around them, holding him against me. My leg bends and my foot travels up the back of his calf, his jeans rough against my bare toes.

His tongue explores my mouth, diving in and out, swirling in the same way desire is in my lower stomach. His probing hand below my top does nothing but ignite the fire inside me. It does nothing but continue to feed and fuel the storm of feelings I have whenever he’s near me.

Aston trails his lips along my jaw to my ear, letting them fall away from my skin and resting his head next to mine. His breathing is heavy and full of pain.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” he whispers.

“I’m here because I want to be.” I trail a hand down his back, rubbing in slow, circular motions, and I know the demons inside him are rising up. The demons that keep him from me completely.

“But I don’t understand why.”

“Not everything needs an explanation. This is one of those things.”

“What if a part of me needs one?” He pulls back, releasing me and kneeling up again.

I sit and cross my legs. My eyes find his, and I’m lost in the swirling torment that’s in the shadows of them. His emotions are all battling each other with the force of a tornado – the color of his eyes darkened to the shade of a storm’s heart. I’m aching to reach out and touch him but something tells me not to. Despite the lingering temptation tingling my fingers, I know I have to do this on his terms. I’m so angry at him and I don’t even know why. I’m so confused about everything. I want to understand. I want to know what he keeps so buried down inside him, and I want to make it better.

“Then that’s something I’ll never be able to give you,” I say quietly, sadly.

“Why?”

“Because my reasons for being here – the way I feel inside, what I feel about you, about us, about all of this – I can’t put them into words. I could sit here for hours and try to explain, but I can’t. They just … are.”

He stands and turns away from me. He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the corner of his room carelessly, the muscles in his back and arms flexing as he runs his hands through his hair.

“Aston. Talk to me,” I say softly.

“Why? What difference would it make?”

“Because I need to understand! I need to understand you – all the difference faces of you. I know three. I know the guy, I know the lover, and I know whatever side of you this is, but I don’t f**king understand them!” I stand. “One minute you’re climbing through my bedroom window, then you’re kissing me, then you’re walking away from me. I don’t get it!”

“Some things can’t be explained,” he says tightly, throwing my own words back at me.

“Bullshit! Bull. Shit. Aston!” I walk toward his turned back. “Absolute crap! The way you act the way you do, the way you hide a part of yourself from everyone, all that has an explanation, it could be explained! You just choose not to. For some reason, you don’t.”

“Maybe I can’t!” He turns to me, his eyes raw and his body taut. “Maybe I can’t explain it all. Maybe I can’t. Maybe it hurts too much. Did you ever think of that?”

His eyes drop, and I want to kick myself. I never thought of that. I never thought whatever it is he’s keeping inside that haunts him so much is too painful for him to talk about. This whole time I’ve been thinking about how I feel about what he’s going through. I’ve been so occupied with what his secrecy is doing to me, I haven’t stopped to consider what it’s doing to him. I haven’t thought for one second about how he feels. God.

My hands reach out for him, and he grips my wrists in a lightning fast movement. “Don’t,” he whispers, his face hard. “Don’t.”

A minute passes between us, stretching out for an infinite amount of time. Neither of us move, the only sound between us the heaviness of his breathing, until he looks at me slowly. His eyes are filled with sadness, and I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. I want to shake his hands off my wrists and touch him, soothe that pain, but I can’t. I’ve tried.

Whatever he’s going through he has to share for both of us. I can’t think about me or him as separate people. When it comes to the pain shining in his eyes, something has to give, because I need to know why, because the game isn’t between us. The game is the show we put on for everyone around us. There’s no charade when we’re standing face to face like we are now. There’s no charade when everything we feel is so, so real.

“You’re so desperate to keep hold of me, yet you’re so determined to keep me at arm’s length,” I whisper. “Why? Why can’t you talk to me? What are you scared of?”

“I’m scared of keeping you and I’m scared of losing you. My whole life I’ve looked after myself, depended on myself, and I’ve kept everything at bay. All the feelings, everything. And then … Then I met you and everything changed. Everything I thought was real turned out to be a load of bullshit. The only thing that’s real is you.”

“Why me? Why do I make such a difference?”

He exhales slowly, resting his forehead against mine, his eyes burning into me. “Because I’ve never needed anyone as much as I need you. If I let you in, if I tell you everything, then you might not need me, too – and that is the f**king scariest thing of all. As much as I wish you’d walk away, as much as you should walk away, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you.”