The ride home was quiet.
They returned to the church hall to say a quick good-bye to Charlene, and then Fox held Hannah’s hand all the way to his car. He opened the door for her like they were on a proper date, a muscle flexing nonstop in his cheek. Charged silence followed as he got them back onto the highway. What was he thinking?
What was she thinking?
Her thoughts were in disarray, like a tornado had blown through.
That kiss.
Holy hell.
The one they’d shared at the cast party was the gentle opening notes of “The Great Gig in the Sky.” But the one against the church wall was that wailing solo three-quarters of the way through the song. The one that never failed to make her want to wax poetic about the complexity of women and their turbulent hearts.
And speaking of turbulence, there was no better description for what Fox’s skilled mouth had done to her. Her body had responded like a flower finally being given sunlight, desperate and starved. Even now, she could still feel the zap of electricity in her fingertips, the dampness on the seam of her jeans.
Once I’m good and deep, I don’t think I’ll be able to slow down.
At the memory of that blunt pronouncement, Hannah turned her head and moaned soundlessly into her shoulder, the intimate muscles below her waist catching and releasing. Were they going home to have sex? Was that what she wanted?
Yes.
Obviously.
There was little doubt that sex with Fox would be mind-blowing. She’d known that since meeting him last summer. But if he thought they didn’t have a reason to talk first? To solve some things? He was out of his ever-loving mind. Their relationship was a complicated riddle that got more confusing every day. They were good friends, highly attracted to each other. They’d behaved like a couple tonight, no denying that. No denying how much she’d liked it, too. Holding his hand under the table, sharing private jokes with their eyes, no words necessary.
Her feelings for Fox were growing at an exponential rate, with no signs of slowing down, and she could only liken it to heading for a steep waterfall in a kayak. Hannah might mean more to Fox than the average girl, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be more than friends.
Charlene’s flinch popped into Hannah’s head, and she traced her eyes over Fox’s stiff jaw, his hair made messy by his own fingers. And not for the first time, she saw someone who was scared. His expression reminded her of the afternoon she’d turned him down in the guest room, stripped him of his sensual power. She saw that same trepidation now. Like maybe . . . maybe he did want to be the man who held her hand at bingo and drove her to Seattle, but flinches and leather bracelets and hang-ups from the past got in his way. Made him doubt he could do it.
Was she reaching?
Hannah dragged her eyes off his perfect profile, watching the windshield wipers move in their rhythmic pattern on the glass, catching the obscuring rain and smoothing out the view, making it clear so they could move ahead. Doing it over and over again until the rain finally stopped.
What if she could do the same with Fox?
Stay steady, unwavering until his view cleared?
Was she strong enough for that?
Forget strong. Trying to lure this man out of bachelorhood was flat-out self-destructive, and it could end with her heart in tatters. Although walking away, going back to Los Angeles, as if Fox wasn’t claiming more and more acreage in her heart, seemed infinitely worse than trying.
Oh boy. A sign for Westport passed on the side of the road, but it might as well have said Trouble Ahead.
Hannah swallowed hard. “So, um”—she clutched the nylon of the seat belt—“are you sure about driving me to Seattle in the morning? I have no idea what to expect when I get to the studio. Could be a lot of waiting.”
“I’m sure, Hannah.” He cut her a sidelong glance. “Now ask me what you really want to ask me.”
Her stomach flopped over at the continual proof that he knew her so well. “Okay.” The pulse at the base of her neck sped up. “You, um . . . we . . . um . . . You know, that was definitely kind of foreplay back there, right? Like, you asked if I’m a virgin and that seems like, yeah, you were checking for a reason. A reason like sex.”
His long fingers stretched on the steering wheel, then gripped it seemingly tighter. “That’s accurate enough. Keep talking.”
“Well. I guess I’m wondering what would happen after. After we did that. If we did that.”
He rolled a shoulder. “Wait for me to get hard again. Hit a different position.”
“Fox.”