Chapter 11 Hanging Upside Down from a Chandelier Matt

Chapter 11

Hanging Upside Down from a Chandelier

Matt

I feel like a teenager on prom night as I get up to open the door. Not because I’m anxiously wondering whether I’ll get laid—I got laid long before prom night—but because there’s something nerve-racking about this whole thing. I haven’t seen Hailey since the night at the opera, and now I’m forcing her into a date I’m not sure she wants.

As I reach for the doorknob, it occurs to me that maybe she’s not even at the door anymore. Maybe she knocked, left the food on the mat, and sprinted back to the elevator. I wouldn’t blame her. I mean, what man asks a woman to pick up all the stuff for their dinner date and deliver it to him? Is that romantic as fuck or a total dick move? Could go either way, I guess.

A breath of relief slides out when I find her on the other side of the door. She looks a bit shell-shocked as she holds up a large paper bag, all big eyes and slightly flushed.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” I answer. A small smile springs up as I gesture to the bag. “Hope you got us the good stuff.”

“Everything you requested.”

We stand there for a second, eyeing each other. She must have come straight from the office, because underneath her winter coat, she’s dressed in a white button-up and simple gray pants, similar to what she wore the day I stopped by Fetch unannounced.

“Would you like to come in?” I tip my head toward the space behind me.

After a beat, she nods. “I really would.”

In the front hall, she slips out of her coat and looks around for somewhere to put it.

“Let me take that,” I say, my voice roughened by nerves. Her dark hair looks thick and glossy under the bright hall light, and I resist the urge to slide my fingers through it. She’s damn pretty. Shorter and thinner than what I’m usually attracted to, she makes me feel like a giant. I find that I don’t mind it though.

“Woof!” Rufus gallops into the room. He skids to a halt when he sees who it is. And five seconds later, he’s located his leash and dropped it at her feet.

“You just went for a walk!” I scold. “Leave Hottie alone. She’s here for me this time. Tough luck, pal.”

Rufus lets out a whine that makes both of us laugh.

My dog has broken the tension. I lead Hailey into the kitchen and unpack the groceries. “You didn’t text,” I say bluntly.

“I know.”

“Why’s that?”

She shifts her feet and says, “Because.”

I fight another smile. She shouldn’t be reminding me of my kids, but Junebug does the same thing sometimes—sticks out her chin and says, “Because.” Hailey didn’t do the chin jut, but still. “Because what?” I prompt.

But I know the answer, even as she goes quiet to contemplate her response. The opera date—or rather the ride home—freaked Hailey out. Truth is it freaked me out a little too. I was hard as a rock that night, dick straining to burst out of my pants. It’s been a long time since I wanted someone that bad. But holy smokes, the dress she had on and that fucking tattoo—I wanted to run my tongue all over it. I wanted to devour her that night.

I probably came on too strong.

So I voice that thought. “I came on too strong on our date last week,” I say with a sigh.

Hailey fixes those blue eyes on me. “No,” she assures me. “You didn’t. I had a really great time. And I…uh…enjoyed making out with you…” She trails off, and I have to swallow a laugh.

She looks so embarrassed, and it’s cute as hell. “I enjoyed making out with you too,” I say solemnly.

“Oh. Um. Good to hear.”

Yeah, I still make her nervous. I wish I knew how to fix that, but I’m not a Hailey expert yet. I’m still just getting to know her and what makes her tick. Kara used to accuse me of being clueless about women. She expected me to know what she was thinking and feeling at all times, and when I fucked up, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. According to her, anyway. But I’m not a mind reader. I can’t even begin to guess what goes through a woman’s mind at any given time.

Hailey’s easier to read than Kara though. Right now, she’s squirming and blushing, and I feel oddly proud that I’m picking up on that.

I step closer and place a hand on her arm. “We probably moved too fast that night,” I admit. “So how about we slow it down? Let’s just have some dinner and go from there.”

She hesitates. Then nods again. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

It’s a plan that actually works.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve grilled up our steaks to perfection, Hailey’s tossed a salad, and we’re moving to the dining room table that Hailey or someone else at Fetch picked out for me. The steak is fantastic and the wine is perfect, and even though it was my black Amex that paid for the spread, I praise Hailey for her choices until she finally rolls her eyes and tells me to quit complimenting her.

Throughout dinner, I see her truly relax. I tell her about our recent string of road trips, and her eyes light up as I offer behind the scenes intel about my teammates and the games we’ve played. When I mention that Blake’s knee took a ding during the last game, she gasps.

“No! Will he be okay to play tomorrow night?” Hailey sets down her wineglass and vehemently shakes her head. “I knew he looked wobbly skating off to the bench after that hit!”

I grin. “You watched the game?”

“Of course,” she says haughtily. “The only way I’d miss a game is if I were lying in a full-body cast in a hospital bed and couldn’t reach the remote. And even then, I’d bribe the nurses to put it on TV for me.”

My grin falters slightly. I love that she’s a rabid hockey fan, but at the same time, I can’t help but wonder if that’s the only reason she’s here. Does she just want to bang Matthew Eriksson, pro hockey player? God knows I’ve encountered those women before. One of my ex-wife’s biggest draws was that she didn’t give a shit that I played hockey.

But I don’t get the sense that Hottie is only here to bag an athlete. In the first place, she scurried off like a frightened rabbit after making out with me. I would’ve been more than happy to drop trou for her the night of the opera. Ungh . Just thinking about her tongue in my mouth makes my dick twitch happily.

Then again, this could be part of her game—the fidgeting and stuttering and nerves. Groupies have been known to get creative to stand out from the crowd.

No.

My gut tells me Hailey isn’t a groupie. A fan, yes, but not one who wants to sleep with me just so she can tell everyone she did.

“Matt?”

I glance across the table to find her watching me as she raises her fork to her mouth. “Yeah?” I ask absently, because now I’m watching her chew and it’s distracting. Her lips do this hot quivering thing that fascinates me.

“You just spaced out midconversation.” She lifts an eyebrow, and I like the challenge in her expression. “Am I boring you?”

“No, of course not.” You’re making me hot. Feisty Hailey is even more fun than shy Hailey.

She sets down her fork and dabs a finger on the corner of her mouth to wipe away a tiny dot of steak sauce. Then she licks the tip of that finger, and yeah, I don’t think she’s purposely trying to be sexy, but damn if a growl doesn’t leave my lips.

“What was that?”

The words pop out before I can stop them. “I like watching you eat.”

Jesus. That sounded like a cheesy come-on from a porno.

“Thanks?” Her cheeks turn brighter than tomatoes, but her voice is dry as she adds, “Yeah, I’m a great eater. Self-taught too.”

I snicker and force myself to stop thinking dirty thoughts. This is only our second date, and I already freaked her out during the first one by mauling her at the opera. I really need to play it cool here, especially if I want a third date.

Do I though? Want a third date?

I think so. Yeah, I do. But three dates is…a lot. By the third date with my ex-wife, we were already spending the night together and talking about our future. Granted, we were young and impatient and a bit stupid. We probably should’ve taken our time with the relationship instead of plowing forward at Mach speed.

With Hailey, rushing feels like the wrong move. But dating her could be the wrong move too. As my ex can attest, I suck at relationships. My job definitely isn’t conducive to them—the lifestyle, the long absences, killed my marriage. I don’t know what Hailey is looking for with me, but if it’s something long term, I’m not sure I’m capable of that. But I can’t come out and ask her what she wants, not on the second date. That would totally be rushing things.

***

“Let me help you clean up.” Hailey picks up her empty plate.

I quickly rise from my chair and swipe the plate from her hand. “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you pour us some more wine?”

“Are you sure?”

I’m not sure about anything right now. “Positive. Go sit down in the living room. I’ll be right there.”

I cart our plates to the kitchen and do a half-ass job of rinsing them off before leaving them in the sink. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Hailey carries the wine bottle and our glasses to the huge leather sectional. She refills our glasses, then takes a dainty sip that makes me smile.

Yeah, I like her. I really do.

A moment later, I join her on the sofa. She’s sitting at one end. I choose to sit in the middle instead of the other end, but I make sure to keep a foot of space between us. Playing it cool, remember?

“Should we put something on?” I ask, gesturing to the remote.

“Sure.” Her eyes dart toward me and then back down at her wineglass. “You, uh, pick though.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. It seems that the nervous Hailey is back. And all I did was sit down on the couch next to her.

Hmm.

“I have Netflix,” I tell her. “But I don’t make much use of it. I’m either on the road or else I have the girls, and all they want to watch is shit with singing princesses.”

Hailey’s smile is sweet, but she doesn’t look me in the eye.

Pointing the remote at the TV, I turn it on. A hockey game is the first thing to appear on the screen. That’s no surprise, because this is Canada, and I watch the sports channels when I’m alone. “We could watch Montreal get their asses kicked by Detroit.”

She perks up. “Now there’s an excellent idea.”

She relaxes as we watch our rivals let in a couple of goals. But when I stretch my arm over the back of the couch, she freezes. Then she freezes again when the tips of my fingers brush her shoulder. Her shirt has sleeves, so I’m not touching bare skin, but the way she reacts, you’d think I was running an ice cube all over her naked body.

I gently move my fingers away. She’s attracted to me. I already know that. But she’s a little afraid of me too. We had a lot of fun during dinner, but physical stuff makes her jittery.

And now she’s sitting a few inches away from me looking as tense as I’ve ever seen her.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket. “Hey, Hottie?”

“Mmm?” Her spine straightens like she’s been called to the principal’s office.

“Do you still have my phone number?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Text me something so I have yours.”

She rises from the sofa and fetches her purse. She’s typing something as she settles back on the couch, and a second later, my phone beeps.

I smile at what she wrote.

Hailey: It’s Hailey!

Matt: Hi honey. Are you okay over there?

Her eyes lift to mine. She blushes, then starts tapping her phone.

Hailey: I’m sorry. I’m terrible at this.

Matt: At what?

Hailey: Dating.

Matt: Not true. We had a lot of fun during dinner.

Hailey: Okay. We did. It’s the after-dinner part I suck at.

Matt: You’re bad at…sitting on the couch?

She looks up and gives me an eye roll. I grin back at her.

Hailey: I’m bad at being so close to you. You’re all big and intimidating and hot.

“You think I’m hot?” I say aloud, trying to keep a shit-eating grin off my face.

She blushes wildly but looks away, and I realize I’ve cut off the flow of words again.

Matt: I think you’re incredibly hot.

Hailey: I’m not kidding. I’m so bad at this, Matt. I turn into a puddle of nerves when you’re sitting next to me.

I take that as compliment, because it means I affect her as much as she affects me.

Matt: So you have a little phobia that makes you afraid to touch me. Do you know how they treat phobias, Hottie? With desensitization therapy.

She bursts out laughing on her end of the couch, so I run with it.

Matt: Seriously. We’ll just ease you into it. What’s your favorite sexual position?

“Seriously?” she yelps. “That’s not a first-date conversation topic!”

Matt: Technically it’s our second date. Just answer the question. This is an important step in your healing process.

With a snicker, Hailey bends over her phone. Two seconds later, another message pops up on mine.

Hailey: Wouldn’t you like to know.

Matt: Um, yeah. That’s why I asked.

Hailey: What’s yours?

Matt: All of them. I studied the Kama Sutra in college.

She hoots with laughter. And yeah, it’s weird that we’re texting on our date instead of talking to each other, which I can honestly say is a first for me. But it’s working. Already her shoulders are losing some of their tension, and the blush on her cheeks is from laughter, not fear.

Hailey: All of them? Did you try the one where you’re hanging upside down from a chandelier?

Matt: Oh, you mean the Inverted Monkey? Of course. First thing I crossed off the list. But I’m not 19 anymore. That position requires some serious stretching. We could just keep it basic tonight. Lotus for a warmup, maybe. Then the Mating Mantis. A couple of headstands. Keep it simple.

She snorts as soon as she reads it.

Hailey: This is how you convince me I’m not in over my head?

Matt: Good point, honey. The truth is I’m a really simple guy. And I’ve been simply fantasizing about seeing that tattoo on your back again. I want to trace it with my tongue.

After I hit Send, I watch her face and see her breath stutter when she reads what I’ve written.

Matt: I want to figure out if it wraps around onto your breasts. I’d have to run my hands over your skin while I check. Then I’ll need to inspect you everywhere for more tattoos, because I wouldn’t want to miss any.

She whimpers, and I harden just from the sound.

Matt: First, maybe I can convince you to kiss me again. I’m right here, honey. Come get me.

I set my phone on silent and toss it on the coffee table. I look around for my wineglass, but I don’t get the chance to reach for it. Because suddenly Hailey slides onto my lap, straddling me. There’s a hot look in her blue eyes as she takes my face in two hands and pulls me into a kiss.

Not for nothing have I spent two decades of my life practicing my reaction time. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her in, parting her lips with my tongue and tasting her. She melts down onto my chest with a sigh, and the kiss goes wild immediately. We battle for control, tongues tangling.

When Hottie makes up her mind about something, then watch out, world. My dirty mind wonders what she’d look like riding my dick, a determined gleam in her eyes…

“You made that sound,” she informs me as we break apart, panting.

I blink. Swallow through my lust. “What sound?”

“The growly one.” She bites her lip. I want to bite it too, and it takes superhuman strength to keep my hands off her.

“Sorry.” I swallow again. Then I think fuck it and say, “I’m ridiculously attracted to you, Hottie. I figured I should be up-front about that.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Snipes.”

I feel like a fucking god right now. So I drag out the anticipation by planting a hand on her shoulder and stroking gently. The other drifts up her slender neck before cupping her cheek. I sweep my thumb over the corner of her mouth, over the same spot where that bead of steak sauce lingered before. I wonder if that tangy taste is still there. So I decide to find out.

Hailey makes a tiny sound of surprise as my lips brush that spot. My tongue comes out for a taste, and yeah , it’s tangy. Sweet, too, because now I’m nibbling on her bottom lip.

A breathy noise escapes her lips. “Matt…”

“Mmm?”

“You’re still not kissing me.”

My tongue licks a sweet line across the seams of her lips. “Soon,” I whisper.

“Now,” she whispers back, and that one passion-laced syllable snaps the thread of my control.

My mouth is on hers in a nanosecond, tongue slipping out to tangle with hers. It’s the kind of mind-melting, toe-curling kiss that hardens my cock and numbs my senses. All I can feel is the heat of her mouth, the delicious taste of her, the bite of her fingernails as she digs them into my shoulder.

“Fuck,” I groan. And then I plant my hands on her ass, pressing her lower body against mine.

She moans against my mouth. I eagerly drink up the sound, kissing her hard and deep while, in the back of my mind, a voice shouts for me to slow it down. But fuck, she’s amazing. So soft and supple in my arms, kissing me back with eagerness that seems to surprise her. In fact, every time we break apart for air, there’s a shine of wonder in her eyes, as if she can’t believe we’re doing this. Or maybe that she can’t believe she’s enjoying it. She looked the same way on opera night—stunned, amazed, and greedy for more.

Hell, if she hadn’t been married before, I’d wonder if maybe she was a virgin.

“You’re…so…hard,” she breathes between kisses.

Fuck yeah, I am, baby. Except I realize she’s not talking about the rock in my pants. Her hands are now tracing my pecs and abs over my shirt, as if she’s trying to memorize every plane and ridge of my torso.

“And you’re so soft,” I breathe back, my hands drifting up to cup her perky tits. Soft all right. My mouth goes dry at the thought of kissing and licking those soft, sweet breasts. I almost unbutton her shirt right then and there, until she kisses me again and proceeds to distract me by grinding lightly over my crotch.

The heat of her core is an even bigger lure than her tits. My hand is between her legs before I even realize it. Hailey gasps in delight as I cup her, then moans and rubs herself over my palm.

“Fuck,” I groan again. “I need…” I don’t even know what I need. It’s been so long since I’ve done this that my entire body is trembling with excitement. My brain has stopped working. My fingers work just fine though. They’re already popping open the button of her pants, easing the zipper down, slipping inside her panties.

Hailey’s eyes go big when my thumb brushes her clit. I did not intend to let one kiss lead to this —stroking her slick paradise, sliding one finger into her damp heat. But it’s fucking happening and it’s amazing. Every sound she makes is like a hit off some fantastic drug, fogging my senses and turning me on more and more. Will she sound like that when I’m inside her? When my tongue is flicking against her clit?

The dirty images summon a strangled groan from my throat. Fuck. I’m close to coming and all I’m doing is fingering this woman.

“Matt,” she says, a note of desperation in her voice. Her chin rests on my shoulder, her hips moving in time to the slow thrusts of my finger. “I…”

“You what, Hottie?” I say thickly. “You want to come?”

She peers up at me and nods wordlessly, and something about her earnest, nakedly honest expression drives me wild with desire. I add a second finger, and holy fuck she’s tight. Really tight. And wet. And hot. And…yeah, I’m in danger of shooting my load in my pants. I really am. Which means I need to make her come—ASAP. Because at least then we can lose control together.

I lean closer and press my lips to hers, kissing her as I move my fingers in and out of her tight channel. Her breathing becomes shallow, lips trembling against mine as I bring her closer and closer to the brink. My thumb tends to her clit, rubbing slow, gentle circles over her swollen flesh, and her breaths are even more labored now. Yeah, she’s close. Any second now, I’m going to feel her pussy convulsing around my fingers as she—

Buzzzzzz !

The loud noise rips our mouths apart.

“W-wha…?” Hailey blinks in confusion.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Just the doorman.” I try to ignore it. I give it my best shot, kissing her again.

Buzzzzzz !

Hell. The front desk doesn’t bother tenants unless it’s actually important.

We both give a sigh of defeat. With the utmost reluctance, I slide my fingers out of paradise and gently ease Hailey off my lap and onto the cushion. Then I get up in search of the cordless phone I always misplace. I find it on top of the fridge, of all places.

“Yeah?” I’m a tad irritable as I greet the doorman.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Eriksson, but you’ve got visitors,” Henry says politely.

My forehead creases. “Who is it?”

“It’s your ex-wife and daughters, sir. I know you have a guest, so I asked them to wait a moment. But Mrs. Eriksson is rather impatient to be let up.”

What the hell? My gaze swivels to Hailey, who’s discreetly fixing her clothing and buttoning her pants.

Shit. What is Kara doing here? She never shows up without calling first.

A sliver of fear pierces me. Are the girls okay? Oh fuck, now I’m worried.

“Let them up,” I blurt into the phone.

And then I hang up and hurry to the living room to check my cell.

Shit.

There are five missed calls from Kara, which I didn’t see because my phone was on silent. There are also two text messages, which I’m terrified to read. Jesus, if something happened to one of the kids…

Kara: Pick up your damn phone, Matt! Emergency!

My heart jumps into my throat, but the fear dissipates slightly when I read the second message.

Kara: Girls are ok. But I’m dropping them off at your place. You better fucking be there.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Hailey, who’s still staring at me, waiting for an explanation. “My kids are here apparently.”

Her face pales. “What?”

Rather than respond, I head to the door, open it, and find a frazzled-looking Kara and two pajama-clad preschoolers.

“Mommy cut her thumb off!” Libby shouts when she sees me.

“Not off ,” Kara quickly corrects. “But I need stitches.”

“There was b-blood,” June whispers, attaching herself to my legs and hanging on tight. “I don’t like blood.”

“And Mommy said a bad word!” Libby announces. “But then she said we could have a slumber party with Daddy!”

June holds on to my legs even tighter. “You were gone forever , Daddy.”

“Just for a week,” I say, trying to make light of my absence even though my heart clenches hard.

Kara mutters under her breath, “A week can feel like forever when you’re home alone and waiting.”

I give her a sharp look, but luckily, I don’t think the girls caught that. Still. She can blame me all she wants for the demise of our marriage, but she’s not going to fucking do it in front of our kids.

“Can you fix Mommy’s thumb?” June asks, bottom lip quivering.

I put a palm on her warm little head. “Okay, calm down, everyone. Let me see that thumb, Kara.” She’s holding it wrapped up in a dish towel, and I tug her hand toward mine and flip the cloth open.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Her brown eyes flash. “Would have sent you a photo if you’d answered your phone.”

“I’m sorry. My phone was on silent,” I admit. “How did you do this?” There’s a deep slice in the pad of her thumb, and when I expose the wound, it oozes blood. But hey. I’m a hockey player. Blood doesn’t faze me.

“Daniel and I were julienning organic carrots for the girls’ lunch tomorrow.”

And he couldn’t stitch it up for you himself? Oh, that’s right, he’s a dentist, not an actual doctor.

I shove the mean-spirited jab out of my head before my mouth can give it voice.

“He’s waiting for me downstairs in the car, actually. I would’ve left the girls at home with him if I didn’t think I’d bleed all over the steering wheel driving myself.”

Although I’m inwardly bristling, I choose not to comment on the fact that Kara’s boyfriend was at my old house, preparing lunches for my kids. At least he’s not living there—yet—but I push that notion aside.

I apply more gentle pressure and wrap it for her again. “Stitches are a good idea.”

Kara winces at the thought. I feel a rush of sympathy for her, but it evaporates when she pushes past me into the room. “Girls, your bedtime is in thirty-seven minutes and—oh. Hello.”

I know the moment Kara spots Hailey, because her tone turns to ice. So does her gaze. Gulping, I watch as my ex-wife takes in the scene before her. Hailey’s tousled hair and rumpled clothing. The two wineglasses on the coffee table.

After a long tense moment, Kara’s head swings back to me. “I see,” she says coolly. “So this is why you can’t be bothered to answer your phone? Because you’re too busy entertaining college girls?”

I frown, while Hailey’s cheeks turn beet red.

“Hailey, this is Kara. Kara, Hailey.” My tone is as frosty as Kara’s. “And I can assure you, she graduated from college a long time ago.” At least I think she did. We haven’t even discussed shit like postsecondary education yet. We’re still just getting to know each other. But I’m not admitting that to Kara.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Hailey says faintly, and I see her edging toward her purse as if she’s planning her escape.

“A pleasure,” Kara replies, though we all know pleasure is the last thing she’s feeling right now. Then she dismisses Hailey with her eyes and turns to me. “I can’t take the girls to a germy emergency room. And there’s no way to know how long this will take, so I figured the girls would just spend the night here, and I’ll collect them in the morning. I assume that’s all right?”

“Of course,” I say tersely. I’m not about to let my children hear me say they aren’t welcome. But Kara clearly has no qualms about restricting my access to the girls until the moment she needs something.

Kara sets her jaw, then winces as if the action causes her pain. She squeezes her thumb inside its wrapping. “Christ.”

Her obvious discomfort thaws some of my anger. She might have been rude to Hailey just now, but she’s obviously panicked. “Go,” I tell my ex-wife. “Take care of it. The girls will be fine.”

Kara stays rooted in place. She stares at the wineglasses again, then at Hailey, and it’s easy to guess what she’s thinking.

“Don’t worry. I was just leaving,” Hailey blurts out.

Startled, I glance over at her. “Stay,” I find myself saying, even while Kara scowls at me. “We can watch a movie with the girls.”

The suggestion goes unacknowledged. Hailey simply slings her purse over her shoulder and sprints to the door. “Thanks for dinner, Matt!” she calls without looking back at me. “I’ll just let myself out.”

A second later, she’s gone.