Fine Fine Fine, page 23
It was a little after midnight. There was no way they had made it back yet.
“Eyes on me,” Milo said as he plucked her phone from her fingers and tossed it onto the pile of outfits she’d passed on while getting ready. He locked the bedroom door and turned back around, stumbling through his pants until he was down to just his boxers.
Hanna reached behind her, desperately trying to undo the zipper at the back of her neck. Milo sat on the edge of the bed and twisted her around, the room blurring. He yanked the zipper down in one fluid motion and just as she went to shimmy out of the black silk, his hands stopped her.
“You know, I’m supposed to be at a strip club.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, throwing the dress into the corner. “I need you inside of me now.”
He flashed a wicked grin, his hand splaying across her stomach and gently running along the curled edge of her bandage.
“Let me feel how badly you want it, Arizona.”
His hands reached around her back and pulled her into his lap, spreading her knees over him. He didn’t even give her a second to catch her breath before he slipped a finger between her legs.
“Oh my god, what would you have done if I said no?”
She pointed to her suitcase. “Same thing I’ve done every night since meeting you—drain a set of AAs and try not to scream your name so loud you could hear me.”
She leaned over him and pressed her lips to his, slowing down a beat so she could fully enjoy the way his hands explored her body while she tasted every inch of him.
“Get rid of these,” she whined, snapping the waistband of his boxers.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, lifting her off of him and tossing them to the side. There was no doubt how badly he wanted her too.
Milo pulled her back over his lap, holding her hips and pushing them in circles over the length of him, the most delicious bass notes rolling from his throat as she sucked on the stubbly skin beneath that laser-cut jaw.
“Hanna,” Milo said.
“Please, don’t change your mind,” she pleaded.
“As much as I love hearing you beg, we have a problem.”
She leaned back, resting her hands on his chest. “What?”
“All my condoms are in my room.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you think Brendon was putting out this weekend?”
“Brandon,” Milo corrected. “And I planned on taking you back to my room when the guys took off for the club! I hadn’t factored Logan’s bullshit into the night.”
Hanna rolled her hips forward, a slow friction sparking between them.
“Am I an idiot if I say I don’t give a shit?”
Milo grinned against the side of her face. “Totally your call, Arizona.”
“I’m on the pill,” she amended.
“Aligned,” he chirped, digging his hands into her hips and lifting them over his lap. He hesitated for a second, the silence between them painful.
She twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled so his eyes caught hers. She could see all of the same thoughts that plagued her mind reflected in his half-lidded gaze, the same dread that pooled in her stomach.
They could fool themselves all they wanted into believing they could just be for the weekend. Just be there. That the heartbreak would be the same, so it didn’t matter.
She ran a thumb over his cheek.
“It’s already too late for us,” she whispered. “We can’t fuck ourselves out of it, Milo.”
It was the closest she could come to saying how she felt out loud.
His eyes closed, and he pushed into her palm, one hand crawling her back and tangling into her hair, still half-up from dinner.
“Flight home problem,” he mumbled, guiding her hips over him. The tension in her back melted as he claimed his space, sliding so far into her she gasped.
“I’m sorry for how fast this is about to be,” he said, his voice strained. “I promise I will make it up to you.”
His hands pushed her hips again, setting a pace that stopped any lingering thoughts that might have been rolling around in her head. She stretched around him, soft sounds slipping from both their throats.
It wasn’t the distraction she needed.
It was a whole new set of devastating problems.
It was a perversion of the highest order, a total betrayal of all their agreements.
It was—
“Where’d you go, Arizona?” Milo murmured. He reached up and tapped her forehead. “Get out of there. Get under me.”
It was so fucking good.
He twisted and rolled her onto her back, pulling the hotel quilt out from under them and shoving it toward the end of the mattress. He didn’t untangle his arms from her back; he didn’t put space between them or whisper something filthy in her ear like she expected. Instead, he wrapped her up in an endless kiss, moving against her slowly, edging her toward oblivion in ways she’d never pictured with him.
In ways she’d never let herself picture.
“Milo,” she gasped, his hips crashing into hers. She hooked her ankles behind his back, needing him as close as possible. Wanting him as close as possible.
“Let go, Hanna. Let me have it,” he said between biting her ear and sucking on her shoulder, the skin puckering under the pressure. “I’m not going to take it, I need you to give it to me,” he mumbled, fingers curled into her skin, leaving their marks.
She nodded, the pressure building so quickly she couldn’t get her head around what he was asking for. He could ask for the deed to her fucking house, and she’d sign it over.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, anchoring herself in his tattoos before she was lost to him completely. He covered her mouth with his, inhaling the rapidly increasing breaths she tried to control, but the second he dipped his tongue between her lips, she shattered.
She was gone.
She was his.
She was so fucking fucked.
“God, Hanna, keep going,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna—”
He coiled around her so tightly she thought she might suffocate, but the pressure brought her back into her body to fully enjoy the marvel that was a Milo Galantis climax and the unholy sound of him moaning right into her ear.
For a second, she thought that maybe they’d managed to freeze time. Maybe they had an eternity to spend twisted up in one another.
No talks to be had.
No consequences.
“Well,” Milo sighed, his chest heaving as he sprawled out across her bed. “That was just as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Terrible,” she gasped.
“It’s a good thing it wasn’t that great,” he said through stilted breaths, rolling to his side so he could face her. “Because I was worried we were making a huge mistake that we could never come back from.”
“Exactly,” she said, staring at the ceiling, unable to look at him for fear of what she might find gathering in those eyes. “I’ve actually already forgotten your name. So.”
“That’s alright,” Milo said, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure the next suite over can tell you.”
When she woke up the next morning, she realized two things simultaneously.
1. She was naked, and Milo was curled around her on Sara’s side of the bed. He was also naked, which was something she’d have liked to spend more time observing, however
2. Someone was on the other side of the door knocking, which meant Sara was back, and she was done sharing the space.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hanna whispered, shaking Milo.
“Say please,” he mumbled.
“Milo,” she said. “Sara is back.”
He shot out of bed and she watched ten different things process over his face at once. She frantically searched the floor for his clothes, tossing his shirt and pants over her shoulder. She reached for a t-shirt and shorts in her suitcase and pulled them on while hopping toward the door.
“Milo! Are you in there, man?”
Oh my god, is that Matty?
Milo and Hanna exchanged a glance, sharing the same spiral of thoughts from across the room as he shoved his leg through wrinkled suit pants.
“Your jacket is out here, asshole. It’s too late. Sara needs her contact solution!”
Hanna wiped at her eyes, swollen from falling asleep with her makeup on, and pulled the door open. Matty waited in the doorframe, thoroughly irritated.
“I’m so sorry,” Sara cried from the couch. Milo’s jacket lay in a heap on the floor, along with their shoes. “I tried to hold him off, but he wanted to see the suite. You know how much he loves fancy bathrooms!”
Matty entered the bedroom and Hanna bolted out to the kitchen. Milo’s muffled voice traded shots with Matty, but neither of the girls was brave enough to move closer.
“Is he mad?” Hanna asked quietly.
“Poor guy,” Sara sighed. “He’s just got a lot of big feelings about all of you. He works too much, he’s missed all of the sexual tension, and I think he’s still just blindsided. He’s been caught in Logan and Milo drama before.”
Hanna swigged the water. “You never told him you thought something was going on?”
“You said it was just sex,” she said, shrugging.
Hanna winced. She had a point.
Milo sprang from the bedroom and snagged his things from the floor, pulling his shoes on before throwing the jacket over his arm.
“We’re not done talking about this!” Matty called from the bedroom, appearing with Sara’s contact case.
“Neither are we,” Milo said quickly, leaning over the kitchen island and planting a searing kiss on Hanna’s cheek.
“Step away from the bridesmaid, Galantis!” Matty bellowed, clapping a hand over Milo’s shoulder and pushing him toward the door.
“I’ll text you,” Hanna mouthed.
Milo winked, dipping out into the hallway as Matty launched into another series of harsh whispers.
Sara rested her hand on Hanna’s arm.
“It’ll all be fine, Hanna. They’ve been friends for like two decades. Your vagina is hardly going to be what does them in.”
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Taylor said, slouching her way through the mini-fridge. “That vagina sure put in some work last night.”
“Oh god. I'm so sorry, you guys. We thought you were out still.”
“We were,” Maricela said, cracking open a bottled iced coffee. “Caught the finale though.”
Taylor slapped Hanna’s ass as she slid past her.
“You’ll have to share your secrets. I’ve never made a man moan like that.”
Sara’s eyes lit up. “I need a play-by-play.”
Hanna shook her head. “I need Advil first.”
Taylor laughed, “For your wrecked pussy?”
“For my hangover!” Hanna stretched a little, her lower back tight, the space between her legs swollen. “And the tattoo. Okay, and maybe for my pussy. Goddamn.”
Sara waved at the living room. “Sit! I need dramatic reenactments. Diagrams. Fan casts.”
Taylor plopped onto the couch. “Florence Pugh. Brunette wig. Little Women accent, duh.”
Sara arched an eyebrow. “And for Hanna?”
Hanna threw her head back and cackled, grateful that this was the reception she got when Milo was probably getting his ass handed to him by Matty.
“Who was that Greek actor in that thing we saw last month?” Maricela snaps her fingers. “Nicolas whatever.”
“I think that guy’s Russian,” Hanna mumbled, scrolling through a litany of texts from Logan. She ignored them all and tapped over to Milo’s thread.
HANNA:
T-6 hours until the flight home.
How we feeling?
ALWAYS ANSWER
Like we’re going to need to book a redeye to untangle this mess.
HANNA
Is Matty mad?
ALWAYS ANSWER
I think just stunned. Doesn’t buy the ‘we’re just friends’ thing.
She typed out a message and then erased it, and then she did that a few more times, finally settling on something easier than the truth.
HANNA
Well, we ARE friends. Not sure what the appropriate suffix is.
ALWAYS ANSWER
Gimme 6 hours. I’ll come with a recommendation.
Her stomach did a little flip, and then it flipped back the other way. She realized that no matter what he suggested, she was terrified of fucking it up.
TWENTY-TWO
“You’re a back-of-the-plane girl?”
Milo shoved his carry-on into the overhead compartment and slid into the last row with her, flipping both the armrests up to make more room for him. Sara and Matty had landed somewhere in the middle, definitely out of earshot.
“Not typically.”
He followed her gaze toward Sara’s bright red headphones.
“Ah,” he mumbled. “Reading more dragon porn?”
She rolled her eyes, holding the cover-up. “No dragons. Fae, though.”
“The fuck is a Fae?”
Hanna sighed. “I think we have more pressing topics to cover.”
“We haven’t even taken off yet. We’re still in Vegas!” Milo pointed out the window at the tarmac. “Wanna join the twenty-foot club?”
“Milo.”
“Okay,” he relented. “I know you’ve been outlining your talking points for hours now, so have at it.”
“No talking points,” she said, turning in her seat to face him. His hand instinctively landed on her thigh, a spark in her belly derailing her entire list of questions. Her eyes dropped to his hand, and he removed it, muttering a half-hearted apology.
He watched as she formulated a coherent thought.
“Just ask me, Arizona.”
“I’m not entitled to any of your story. I know that. But Logan got into my head last night. He said you like projects. Broken girls you can fix, but never have to commit to. He said you make it their fault for you not being in a place for a relationship, or that you hide behind being friends with benefits, so you come off like the good guy.”
Milo took another long breath. “And what do you think about that?”
“I think it feels familiar.”
He nodded, taking it in. “I understand why. And I understand why Logan sees my history through that lens.”
He flagged a flight attendant and grabbed two bottles of water before they took off. He broke the seal on hers and handed it over.
He swallowed, seemingly battling back a wall of feelings that he'd normally have funneled into a too-direct string of perfectly curated 'I' statements. But they were beyond therapy. He took another sip of his water.
“Logan was right in some ways. I do have a type. But it’s not because I seek out broken women who I can take advantage of. It’s because I can’t fathom being in a relationship with someone who hasn’t had to hold their dead parents’ hand and tell them they’d be alright when they’re fucking terrified, or stared at oncoming traffic a little too tempted, or lost days, maybe even weeks, of their lives to a wave of grief they didn’t see coming.”
She scooted closer to him, his voice wavering as he spoke. The fasten seatbelt sign clicked on, causing them both to flinch.
“I’ve told you that before. I can’t be with someone who isn’t willing to share that pain with me because it isn’t going anywhere. It’ll sit right under my skin until I let that final breath out and I can bitch about it to my dad’s face. It will be there with every ‘I love you,’ ‘Will you marry me,’ ‘I do,’ and ‘That’s my boy,’ and I know you know that. And I’m sorry you know that. But Logan doesn’t, and I sincerely hope he’s old as hell before he has to confront all of these shitty realities. Most people I’ve dated have carried that expectation that I’ll just get over it one day. That I’ll move on. But I’ve realized that that’s not possible.
This version of me, this semi-healed Milo that you put on a pedestal all the time? Relatively new. I’ve hurt a lot of people, good people, to get to where I am now, and I’m not sure that it isn’t just part of the process.”
Hanna dropped her gaze to his hands, nervously fidgeting with the cap of his water.
“I’m assuming Michaela is one of those people?”
“The first one on a pretty long list, yeah.” Milo closed his eyes and pushed at an invisible bruise on his chest. “You’re two years younger than Logan?”
She nodded.
“Okay well, Matty and I graduated together, but Logan is a year ahead of us. I told you Matty was one of my only friends after everything that happened, but Logan’s girlfriend, Michaela ,was our age too. When he went off to ASU, we still hung out with her quite a bit. She lost her mom when she was a kid and I think she took pity on me. We got close. Logan got distant. I was seventeen and mad at the world and didn’t care who I hurt as long as they ached like me.
She still made the choice to cheat, but I played just as much of a role. I think that’s why Logan is so fucked up over Sloane—he did everything right. Exactly the way he wished Michaela and me would have done it. But we were kids. Look at how hard the last year has been on you, and you’re a grown woman. Two teenagers with no regulation skills? Gasoline and fire.”
Hanna took that in. She knew Logan had a serious girlfriend before her, but not much else. He didn’t talk about her at all, and it was becoming clear why.
“I hurt Logan. It hurt even more that Matty was understanding about it. But he met you, he moved on, and we got to a somewhat civil place, and I never expect him to be anything more than that. It was more than fine for both of us.”
“Until me.”
“Until you,” Milo groaned, leaning his head back and wiping his face. “I was being genuine, Hanna, when I told you I didn’t mind being a distraction for you. God knows I had plenty of them over the years. And I was being genuine when I said I knew it couldn’t be more than that, and that I didn’t plan on dating ever again. Because if I didn’t set that expectation from the get-go, I knew I’d let you set my entire life on fire. Fuck, I’d hand you the matches.”
