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Hardy tried to swallow his embarrassment. He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. He had convinced himself she was flirting with him: pretending to be his wife on the ambulance ride after he’d passed out, making jokes at the church service, and here she was in his room, lingering like she’d come here for something other than to talk about reporters staying at the hotel. Why would he care if she cut the department a deal on his room charges? He’d interpreted it all wrong, and she’d laughed at him. “Oh God, no.” Truly mortifying. She had an affair with Mark. Was that the reason he thought she might also sleep with him?
He rocked back and forth on his heels, failing at hiding his true level of panic while she was still there. Her explanation was making it worse, mocking his health. As if the sex would kill him. That did hurt, but not nearly to the degree as the shame of his original blunder. He wanted to dispute it, tell her that the problem wasn’t that the exertion would send him into a dangerous overdrive. His heart problems occurred when it beat too slowly, too irregularly. At least that’s what he thought he had been told about his arrhythmia. Something about the pointed bits on the ECG getting further apart from something else? He couldn’t quite remember, hadn’t really cared to google it later either. The technical part hadn’t made a ton of sense to him, and solving Sandbrook had been more important to him at the time of his diagnosis. Maybe there had been something about it going too fast too. Hardy caught his thoughts before they drifted further away. Becca was still talking. He wondered why she was still in his room, why she hadn’t left yet so he could wallow in rejection in peace.
He was thrown thoroughly off guard when she closed the distance between them, even more confused when more importantly, she looked as if she was about to kiss him.
Hardy’s heart rate did speed up as Becca kissed him, but his mind continued to race along with it. How long had it actually been? 18 months since Sandbrook fell apart. His last anniversary with Tess would have been several months earlier. Four, at least. No, he realized. He’d forgotten, again. They fought about it, and he slept on the couch that night. His birthday? He’d come home too tired for anything other than a slice of cold pizza before bed. Tess’s birthday? There had been way too much whiskey that night. The year prior? Sex hadn’t really been all that important to him, probably for longer than he even had been aware.
He kissed her back, probing with his tongue when he felt hers work itself against his. She was definitely a good kisser. And he was enjoying the way her hand felt around the back of his neck. He thought it felt nice, just having someone touch him. She seemed to like the way he gasped when she paused to nip at his lower lip–apparently she couldn’t detect that it was more surprise than arousal on his part. He fumbled a little as he put his arms around her, hands sliding along her back, still over the fabric of her top. Hardy hadn’t really registered her unbuttoning his shirt, but her hands on his bare skin felt good. Not so good that he didn’t notice her right hand lingering a little longer over the left side of his chest. But in the moment, at least he didn’t feel as alone. He had ignored Tess for so long that she had slept with Dave out of loneliness? Is that why Latimer had the affair as well? Shagging in her car like teenagers because he and Beth had grown lonely together as well? Hardy pulled Becca close, letting her press him up against the wall. She moved against him, grinding their hips together, moaning into his mouth before he broke their kiss to suggest moving to the bed. She nodded, although he suddenly wished she hadn’t. They could have kept going as they were. Eventually he’d stop thinking so much, and focus on the friction of her thigh pressing between his legs. He wasn’t hard, and moving to the bed only expedited her discovering as much. Who was he fooling, she had to be able to feel he was still embarrassingly soft against her leg. Hardy sighed, stretching on top of her as they fully removed each other's shirts. She put her hand back around the back of his neck, kissing him again, running the other up and down his ribs. She smiled when he made an appreciative low rumbling sound. He wished she’d just continue doing what she was doing, and not have to worry about making it sexual.
Becca redirected the hand on her breast lower, pressing it between her legs. Through the fabric he could tell she was wetter than he expected her to be, and he focused on working his fingers, figuring out what she liked in the hope that at least she’d get some pleasure out of what he was doing.. Maybe that would start to awaken his stubborn cock. That was usually what got him going with Tess anyway, especially in those last few years–however long ago they’d been. He listened for some indication that she was, pushing the fabric aside.
From her back, Becca looked up at him and shook her head, “not like–” she paused.
Hardy felt his face get hot. She was still worried he was going to collapse on her. Whatever semblance of an erection that might have been building, faded immediately. He rolled off her and reached for his shirt. Hardy lay on his back, holding his crumpled shirt against his abdomen. Becca slid down on the bed, straddling his knees and made a half-hearted attempt at his belt, but Hardy waved her off. Even if that might have worked, he didn’t want it.
“No, you better just go.” He pulled himself up so he was leaning back against the headboard. “I don’t think I’m going to–” he choked out the words, gesturing toward the clear lack arousal that he felt should have been tenting his trousers.
“Oh,” Becca looked embarrassed. Hardy wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed for herself, for him, or for both of them.
“You need to go,” he repeated, a bit louder but voice still unsteady. It didn’t matter, she was already scrambling to get her clothes back on, smooth her hair and try to look presentable enough in the event that she ran into other guests in the hall.