24. Maddox

TWENTY-FOUR

MADDOX

Finally, Hannah steps out from the employee's-only area behind the main desk.

When I first got here, I spotted the back of her, the ends of her wavy locks brushing the center of her spine, just as she was walking off the main floor.

I didn't call out for her, figuring she'd be refilling her book cart and coming back out, but she didn't. And that was over an hour ago.

Closing my book, I push out of the armchair and move to cut her off.

My mouth opens to say her name, but then my throat goes dry.

Fuck me, I knew she had nice tits. But there's a difference between knowing and seeing.

Like she knows what I'm thinking, Hannah looks down at herself. But then I'm certain she doesn't know what I'm thinking, or how much I'm enjoying the view, because she shakes her head.

The only reason I'd shake my head over her cleavage is if my face was shoved in it.

And… Christ. She has freckles there too.

I clear my throat.

Hannah's head pops up, and her eyes widen when they see me.

"Maddox!" she says my name on a breathy gasp, and I feel it in my balls.

"Hey, Bunny."

Her cheeks blush like I knew they would, and I'm tempted to pound my fists against my chest. But instead, I act like a human and close the distance between us.

Hannah's eyes bounce around my body. Looking from my chest to my legs to my face. "Are you okay?"

I come to a stop before her. "Yes…" I drag the word out, not sure why I wouldn't be. "Are you okay?"

Her nose scrunches up. "What? No, I mean, are you okay, like physically?"

"Physically?" I repeat with a smirk.

She huffs. "From the game. When you banged yourself?—"

I start to crack up. "I'm sorry, what did I do?"

She rolls her eyes even as she smiles. "You know what I mean."

The few people nearby look our way, and I swallow down my lingering laughter. I didn't mean to be so loud; this girl is just always catching me off guard.

She shifts her weight on her feet, and the movement draws my gaze down. "How's the ankle?"

"Hmm? Oh. Seriously, Maddox, it doesn't hurt at all. Not even a little."

I watch her face and accept that she's telling me the truth.

She lifts her brows like she's waiting for me to answer something.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you really okay?" She looks back at my chest. "I know you wear padding and stuff during the game, but still, some of those hits looked like they hurt."

Padding and stuff.

"God, you're cute." I say exactly what I'm thinking and enjoy the look of surprise on her face. "They're just called pads. And yeah, sometimes it hurts having a three-hundred-pound dude knock you to the ground, but I'm used to it."