Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Page 38



“You’ll…” She shakes her head. “No. That’s not necessary.”

“You were just in an accident,” I try to explain, but she’s already shaking her head again.

“I’m fine.” Hannah turns her attention out the windshield. “Thanks for your… help. But I don’t want to leave my car here.”

She says help like it hurts her, and a wave of anger hits me.

“Got what you needed, so you’re done.” I say it under my breath, but I can feel tension snap into place between us.

But she doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t yell at me or tell me why a sandwich made her cry. She doesn’t explain how she can go from hugging me like I’m her one true love to shutting me out mere minutes later.

She doesn’t do anything.

So we drive the last three minutes in thick silence.

Fine. If she wants to go back to pretending she doesn’t know me, that’s fucking fine.

I flip the turn signal on as we reach our building and turn into the underground parking ramp.

“I’m on level two,” Hannah says too calmly.

I’m half tempted to pull into my executive spot on level one and make her take the elevator down. I’m so tempted I slow a little extra as we approach the reserved spots, but my foot lifts off the brake.

I’m a dick, but not that much of a dick, so I follow the circular drive down to level two.

After we pass the first few rows of cars, my annoyance climbs even higher. “You want to point out your car? Or should I just drop you off in the center so you can keep it a secret?”

“Here is fine,” she snaps.

Hannah reaches across her body for her seat belt, like she’s going to unbuckle it while I’m still driving.

I slam my foot on the brake as I dart my hand out and grip her wrist.

She lets out a squeak of surprise as she jolts in the seat.

I keep my foot on the brake as I twist my body toward hers. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”

“You were just in a goddamn car accident,” I growl. “Or did you forget that too? Because I didn’t.”

That panic is still inside me. The way my heart stopped when I saw the car she was in get hit.

I’ve never felt fear like that.

I didn’t like it.

“I’m fucking fine.” Hannah jerks against the grip I have on her wrist.

“No, you’re fucking not.” I jerk back.

Since I’m bigger and stronger, and because I mean it, her body twists with the motion, forcing her to face me.

And then I do the only thing I can.

I press my lips to hers.

I kiss her.


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