“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Hannah stood near the curtain that hid her bed from the rest of the loft. The news was on the television, but the sound was so low she couldn’t hear it. Will was on his hands and knees doing something to her carpet.
“I bought some rug cleaner and I almost have the stain out.” He didn’t look up. The muscles under his T-shirt bulged and Hannah’s breath caught.
“Coffee is made and I picked up gluten-free chocolate croissants for you. Anne Marie told me they were your favorite.”
Her hand flew to her hair. “It’s so late. I’ve missed the buyer appointments this morning.”
“Calm down. Everything’s been rescheduled because of the weather. Seems New Yorkers don’t like walking in the snow. Can’t say I blame them. I’m used to the desert heat myself. Oh, also I reorganized your linen closet and cleaned your kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? “You don’t need to do this. I have a woman who comes in once a week. She’ll take care of it.”
“You have a maid? But you live by yourself.”
“Will, you really are OCD, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that is one of my many freak flags as you like to call them. The doc says it’s my need to control the environment around me. And honestly, I like to clean. I like things tidy. I always have. Probably has something to do with growing up in the military.”
Controlling his environment. Hannah could see why he would need to do that. When he and his men went out on their missions, there was only so much they could control.
The visual pictures from Private Scott’s comments flashed through her mind. She forced herself to take a good hard look at Will and she recognized what an inspiring human being he was. And he cared about her.
Of course, she couldn’t say any of that to him then. They’d just got back on an even keel—last thing she wanted to do was rock the boat. They had such little time left together.
“Well, I’m not going to stop you, if you actually enjoy it. I wish I were the same way. You should know that one of my freak flags, in addition to being a flighty flake, is that I’m kind of a slob. I’ve been known to leave my clothes on the floor for a couple of days when I’m really busy.”
“Why do you call yourself a flake?” She noticed he didn’t mention anything about her being a slob. The dishes she’d dirtied the night before were gone and her pad, pencils and sketch paper were neatly stacked on the bar.
“Um, I am. I have a tendency to go off on the creative binges and I forget normal daily-life things. Half the time I don’t notice the messes I create. If it weren’t for Anne Marie tracking my every move, I’d forget appointments and goodness knows what else. Even with her doing it, I still miss stuff from time to time. And I’m habitually late. I’m trying to change, though.”
Will walked into the kitchen and put away the cleaning supplies. Then he washed his hands. “You’re a creative person. I thought artsy people didn’t really believe in time.”
Hannah sat down on one of the bar stools and grabbed a napkin and croissant from the bag there. “Two months ago, I would have agreed with you. But I think it’s more about immaturity and a need for control with me, too.”
He opened her fridge and took out the few condiments, milk and coffee she kept in there. She noticed he’d also bought some deli meats and cheese. Poor guy probably couldn’t find anything to eat that morning. What must he think of her?
“In what way is it about control?” He dampened a cloth and started wiping the inside of the fridge.
She stifled a chuckle. Now he was cleaning her fridge and she didn’t even think he was aware of how weird it was. The poor guy had been through enough crap. If cleaning a fridge made him feel good, who was she to argue?
“Being late is about making people think that my time is more important than theirs. It’s rude, really. I’m sure many people aren’t punctual all the time, but it’s a real problem with my mother and her crowd. They are all about being fashionably late. I say I’m trying to get better, but then I showed up almost an hour late for the party Leland threw me the other night.”
“Yes, but you were working. You’d just finished with the press when you had to wait for me to change clothes. That’s not the same thing.”
“Don’t encourage me, Will. I’m really bad about it. The other day with your dad was the first time I’d been on time for an appointment in years.”
“Really? So why then?”
Hannah had to think about that. She didn’t have much time to get ready that morning. In fact, she’d set a personal record. “It was for you.”
Will stopped his cleaning parade in her fridge. Turning, he gave her the strangest look.
“What did I say?”
“It’s sweet that you did that just for me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I hear it’s really hard to break bad habits. By the way, are you going to clean all day, or do you have time to kiss me?”
“Oh, I always have time for that.” He tossed the rag on the counter, then leaned across the bar to kiss her. His lips were soft against hers.
“I want more,” she whispered.
He broke contact and the next thing she knew he was around the bar, pushing her thighs apart and pressing himself into her. “Like this?” He trailed kisses down her neck.
“Yes,” she encouraged him.
His fingers followed the path of his lips. Lifting her shirt over her head, he suckled her nipples.
“Ummmmm. Yes.” Grabbing his head, she nestled him between her breasts.
His hand found her heat, through the thin silk panties she wore. She was glad she’d changed into the long T-shirt earlier.
When his two fingers plunged into her, she gasped. Bucking against his hand she begged him not to stop. As he pumped her, Will drew her nipple into his mouth. The roughness was her undoing.
“Ooh.” She screamed and her body started to orgasm.
He shoved the panties aside and plunged himself inside her. “Harder,” she begged. Pounding so hard he moved the bar stool, he put his hands on each side of the chair to hold it down. Hannah scooted to the edge so he could plunge his shaft farther into her.
“Ride me, baby,” Will grunted. She met every thrust.
Their pace was edging toward her breaking point. She locked her gaze with his. The passion and ecstasy there threw her into the best orgasm of her life. He wanted her. Crazy Hannah. He didn’t care about her hang-ups. Or that she was a flake.
“Hannah,” he whispered against her lips as he continued to move faster and faster inside her.
“Me, too,” she said. Biting his lip softly she ran her tongue against it.
“Hannah,” Will moaned again as he emptied himself inside her.
Body shaking, she hugged him to her.
Her Will.
She might have to say goodbye soon, but she was never going to let him go.
SOMETHING SUBTLE had shifted in Will’s relationship with Hannah. It happened while he made love to her in the kitchen. He saw it in her eyes. She’d cared about him before, but it was more now. Could she love him? They hadn’t known each other long, but he’d loved her from the moment they met. He knew that now—corny love-at-first sight and all.
But it didn’t feel corny with Hannah. This thing between them was deep and real, and they both understood the stakes were higher now. It was obvious neither of them was ready to say the words out loud, but it was there.
He loved her. He would do anything for her, including changing the life plan that had been so carefully set before him. His father might never speak to him again. His mother’s heart would break. But for once, Will wanted to plot his own path. Be his own man. Allow himself to do what he wanted.
He’d forced Hannah to go downstairs to her studio and catch up with Anne Marie, who’d called several times that morning. He knew why Hannah was hesitant to leave. He’d promised he’d be there when she was done.
He sat on the couch and turned up the television.
What the hell did he want to do with his life?
Could he really leave his men behind? Hell.
That was the kicker. He would always be a marine through and through. Maybe his father had pushed, but Will had loved the life—at least until the past two tours. Losing good men always ate at his soul, but it was more than that. Had he lost the edge that made him a good marine? He liked to think he could make the tough decisions, but he didn’t know anymore. And he dreaded the next tour.
His men deserved more. But giving up the corps?
The very idea turned Will’s stomach.
Hannah needed him, too. She didn’t realize how much, but she would. Her life was about to take off in ways she hadn’t imagined yet. When he’d been downstairs earlier Anne Marie had showed him all the newspaper articles and features. Hannah was on her way to great things. But she would need to be surrounded by people who cared about her, who loved her. And no one loved her more than he did.
For the first time ever, his life was a mess. The plan didn’t seem so clear now.
So what the hell are you going to do about it?