Why am I here?
I promised myself I wouldn’t show up and told Hailey the same thing. I was desperate to stay locked in my room, but the minute I saw her walking around the lake with Chloe, Rachel, and the dead man walking—Jensen—I knew my resolution wouldn’t last.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be roaming this throng of sweaty bodies moving to the bass from the speakers strategically placed around the perimeter. I shouldn’t give a fuck who Hailey’s dancing with or how much she had to drink.
Her head is fine now.
Healed.
Her memories are returning faster and faster. Those she’s written about are still scattered, incomplete and mostly making little sense, but there’s no threat to her mind if she has one drink too many. Unless she hits her head hard, the gradual rebuilding of the abyss of her past is safe.
But she isn’t.
Not here, surrounded by drunk, rowdy college kids. Not with sleazy Jensen planning to make a move. Not unless I watch her. Not unless I keep her safe.
I navigate the crowd where the bonfire soars into the sky outside, at least ten feet tall and just as wide. A group of loud seniors are playing some idiotic college game, timing themselves chugging pitchers of beer. One’s already puking his guts out behind the tree line, but it doesn’t faze the others.
With a bottle in hand, I scan the crowd for Hailey. There are at least two hundred people out here, and more inside the derelict building. Stage and strobe lights bounce off the weathered façade, eerie shadows dance across the ground, people move, talk, dance… but Hailey’s nowhere in sight. Neither is Chloe, Rachel, or even Jensen. Surveying every face, I move toward the building.
Bass shakes the walls, dust settling over my shoulders as soon as I cross the threshold. Turning right, I spot Hailey with her friends, laughing across the room, and my insides do a weird pirouette. She’s different tonight. No trace of the vulnerability she’s worn all fucking week. No trace of the panic that ate her alive last night.
She’s uncharacteristically cheerful. Vibrant. Alive… her behavior hinting that the beer she’s holding is not her first tonight. At least she’s nursing a bottle, not a red solo cup with contents of questionable origin.
Jensen’s nearby, swaying on his feet, unfocused eyes roving the room without purpose until they stop on Hailey. I can almost hear his thoughts as he looks her over, then moves off. He’s spent the week seizing every opportunity to ask her out. She’s dodged his bullets, always needed elsewhere whenever he gets too close.
But Jensen’s an idiot and didn’t get the message.
Neither mine, nor Hailey’s.
He comes closer. Dips his head to whisper in Hailey’s ear, his lips a breath from her skin.
My pulse goes haywire.
Without a word, but with a purposeful roll of her blue eyes that gets me rock fucking hard, she follows him to the makeshift dance floor. “Used to the Darkness” by Des Rocs gives way to “Amsterdam” by Nothing But Thieves.
One of my favorite songs.
They start dancing. I’m sure she’s only indulging Jensen so he’ll back off, which would be fine if it didn’t make me consider ripping his fingers out one by one.
He’s too close. No man’s allowed this close to her.
The way she moves, swaying those alluring hips in time with the music, her blonde, silky hair flowing down her back, the lights highlighting her smooth skin… she’s addictive.
So fucking beautiful.
It’s maddening that I can’t peel my eyes off her. Every fiber in me screams to look away, keep my distance, stick to the fucking plan, but the line between duty and want has blurred so much it’s nearly nonexistent.
The song reaches the bridge, and my chest tightens as Jensen sidles up behind Hailey. His heated eyes devour her chest over her shoulder, his intentions clear as day.
My blood rages in a maelstrom until I can barely keep myself from snapping his neck right here, right now. I grit my teeth, biting down on the overpowering emotions.
He’s a civilian. I don’t kill civilians unless there’s a valid reason. Francis battered my mother and deserved way worse than he got. Jensen’s just clingy. A horny college kid. No matter how tempting the promise of his screams, I have a job to do, and pointless bloodshed won’t help. Hailey’s gorgeous, who can blame him for trying his luck?
I can. I do.
The forced calm lasts three whole seconds. Anger gushes through me, more potent, scorching, as Jensen crowds Hailey’s back. He snakes one arm around her middle, drawing her closer.
As if he knows I’m watching, as if he’s deliberately challenging my restraint, as if he thinks showing me the middle finger is a wise move, he dips his head and drags his lips along the delicate skin of Hailey’s neck.
Something primal inside me roars, writhes, and snarls. A beast pawing the dirt, ready for carnage. It begs to be unleashed when uncertainty and nervousness flash across Hailey’s face.
I’m moving before the rational part of my brain can stop me.
Hailey peers down to where Jensen’s holding her way too low, his palm not far off cupping her pussy. She moves his hand over her stomach. It doesn’t stay there long. He drops it lower again, his fingers on her hip, fisting her dress.
The crowd doesn’t part for me the way it does in Bravo. There, one look at me ignites a mix of fear and respect. My clothes, my gait, my face, my gun… all send people scattering.
Here, I barrel through the crowd with the determination of a charging bull, elbowing my way toward Hailey.
Her brows draw together, a worried crease as she tries wiggling out of Jensen’s embrace without making a scene. Overly polite. Overly considerate. She should knee his balls, then once he bends in half, knee his nose.
She doesn’t, and the violence inside me soars.
I bludgeon my way through the last group of dancers, throwing them off rhythm, and the commotion draws Jensen’s attention. Color drains from his face and his hands fall down his sides as he stumbles back, away from Hailey, his eyes wide.
My first instinct is to nail his face. It’s the least he deserves for making Hailey anxious, but one look at her changes the plan.
She notices me in time, visibly relieved when I reach her. My heart bangs like a kick-back from the gun I imagine pressing against Jensen’s temple.
“Hey,” Hailey coos, her cheeks growing pink. “You said you weren’t coming.”
“So did you.” I cuff her wrist, then lace our fingers as I steer her out of the building.
“Where are we—” She stumbles over an empty wine bottle, losing her balance.
I snap my arms around her waist, pulling her flush to my chest, her small hands bracing against my pecs. She’s warm, flushed, her skin’s clammy, and locks damp, stuck to her neck.
“Careful, pretty girl. How much have you had to drink?”
“Not that much,” she mutters, betraying the lie when her breathing hitches and hungry eyes drop to my lips. She swallows hard, attempting to control the desire glowing from her neck and cheeks. “Where are we going?”
“Back to campus.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue.”
I lead her out of the building; the stuffy atmosphere of the party gives way to the heat of the crackling bonfire.
I guess she was right all those weeks ago when we sat on the boat platform… I am a bit of a caveman.
Maybe more than a bit.
Jensen’s lips touching her neck plays on the back of my eyelids, fueling the acid dissolving my veins. Holding Hailey’s hand is all that’s stopping me from turning around and throwing punches at Jensen’s face.
The last three minutes prove Hailey’s no longer a task. No longer a tool or a means to an end.
She’s an obsession. A constant worry at the back of my mind. I can’t shake it.
Another novelty. I’ve never felt this territorial about a woman. About anyone, but Hailey’s stirs a sinister, reckless flavor of possessiveness.
“I don’t want to go.” She snatches her hand from my grip, her expression a compromise between anger, confusion, and… lust? “Let’s stay.”
“The party’s over, Hailey,” I grit out.
It is lust swimming in her eyes… and it triggers a short, erotic fantasy: Hailey on her back, naked, her legs spread wide to make room for me.
The sudden, primitive urge to feel her, claim her, mark her pools in my stomach, chest, and my fucking cock. It’s maddening. I want her body, her moans, her nails scraping my back. I want her orgasm. Orgasms powerful enough she’ll be too exhausted to move.
“No it isn’t!” She pokes my chest. “Tell me why I can’t stay or I’m going back inside.”
“Like hell you are.” Without thinking, I swing her light frame over my shoulder.
I feel her.
Not just where our bodies make contact, but everywhere. She’s a virus running rampant through my system. A fucking infestation of tiny insects burrowing deep under my skin.
“You’re done for the night.”
Unsurprisingly, no one follows. No one tries to stop me marching away with a defenseless girl.
Surprisingly, Hailey doesn’t react.
I was certain she’d pummel my back with her little fists, but no. She simply grasps the back of my t-shirt with both hands like she’s here for the ride.
“You’re confusing,” she mumbles a hundred yards later. “Can you stop? It hurts.”
“What hurts?”
“My tummy. Your shoulder’s hard.”
“Yes, bones usually are.” I slide her down my front. The warmth of her body works miracles on my wellbeing, keeping me from turning back to end Jensen.
Now that would be stupid with all those witnesses.
I haul Hailey up again. This time, her legs have nowhere to go but around my waist and—fuck… that feels good.
“I can walk, you know?”
“I’m aware.”
She lets out a long breath, waving the white flag before the fight’s even begun. A few steps later, her head lolls onto my shoulder, her small hands cinching my neck.
I keep walking. One hundred, two, three hundred yards in utter silence. I think she’s asleep until her lips part in the crook of my neck.
“Nash?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you take me away?” she asks, her sweet, warm breath sighing against my skin to leave goosebumps. “I had fun. Jensen’s pushy but I can handle him.”
I’m sure she can. She fucking shouldn’t, though. I’d love nothing more than to go back, drag him a safe distance from the party and make good on my promise. I could put Hailey in bed, tuck her in so she’s safe, and then come back and break Jensen’s fingers, wrists, elbows, jaw, nose, knees… every bone I can fucking think of.
But that would be stupid. It’d raise too many suspicions and I can’t have Hailey doubting me.
“Why did you take me away?” she asks again.
Because there’s no way in heaven or hell that any man will touch you while I’m watching. And if I can help it, not even when I don’t watch.
“Because you’re drunk and Jensen’s a sleazy motherfucker.”
Her lips curl against the soft spot under my ear as her fingers tangle in my hair. She toys with the short strands, sending pleasant ripples through my tense muscles.
It’s calming. She’s calming. A potent sedative.
Another eight hundred yards, and we enter the girls’ dorm, Hailey still in my arms. She weighs next to nothing. A little feather, warm and safe as I navigate the winding corridors, silence blanketing the entire building. Almost everyone is on the other side of the lake, and anyone who skipped the party is probably asleep by now.
The floorboards creak with every step, louder than during the day, and dimmed lights cast our shadows over the bare walls.
I adjust Hailey as I climb the narrow staircase, keeping her in my arms when we reach her bedroom door.
“Good memory,” she praises.
For all she knows, I’ve only been here once.
“Where’s your key?”
“Back pocket.”
Moving one arm under her butt for support, I use the other hand to check the pockets of her denim dress. “It’s not.”
“Oh… then… I think Chloe has it.”
Fuck my life. No way I’m going back across the lake. It’s too big of a risk. My fist might accidentally slip and land on Jensen’s nose.
“Looks like you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”
She arches back, her big eyes meeting mine. “I am?”
“Yeah. You are.” I’m already on the move, my heart picking up rhythm as I descend the stairs. “Unless you’d rather sleep on your doormat?”
She chews her lip, considering the option.
“You’re not sleeping on the doormat, Hailey. Head on my shoulder. I can’t see where I’m going.”
Ejecting all air from her lungs, she obeys, nuzzling her face so close I feel her eyelashes brush my skin when she blinks.
I could get used to this.
Five minutes later, we enter my room. I drop Hailey on the bed and fetch a fresh t-shirt from the closet.
“You’ll be uncomfortable sleeping in your dress,” I explain.
Without a word, she gets up, a little unsteady on her feet as she pads across the room, locking herself in the bathroom before I can order her to strip right here. What wouldn’t I give to watch her change…
Bad idea. God knows it’ll be torture keeping my hands from her all night. It’s already hard not to touch her whenever she’s within reach. Seeing her naked would complicate things further.
Stripping out of Nash’s uncomfortable clothes, I leave my watch and phone on the bedside table, then get between the sheets, willing my cock to stop twitching like it’s trying to burst out of my boxers and corner Hailey in the bathroom.
The door cracks open five minutes later. She peeks into the room, her dress neatly folded, eyes idling between the bed and the loveseat tucked against the opposite wall.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, pulling the covers aside. “Get that pretty ass in bed, or so help me.”
A small smile lights up her face, cheeks flushed, though I don’t think it’s embarrassment heating her skin. It’s however many drinks she’s downed. She leaves the dress on my desk and comes closer, hips swaying, my tee swishing around her mid-thighs.
“I don’t like sleeping on that side.” She points at the empty space. “Can you move across?”
“No.”
“Oh come on. Pretty please?”
“No, Hailey. If I move, there’s nothing between you and the door.” I cuff her wrist, tugging until those killer legs have to clamber over me.
With a little pout, she makes herself comfortable, kicking the comforter about and whacking the pillow like it’s threatened her family before she lays down, facing me.
The warmth of her body seeps into mine, igniting needs and wants I doused while she was in the bathroom. Her sweet floral perfume wafts in the air, permeating the bed sheets. I’ll smell her here for days until room service changes the sheets.
It takes less than a minute for her breaths to even out. Either she’s comfortable around me or utterly exhausted. The night lamp bathes her skin in an orange glow, her lashes casting long shadows over her porcelain cheeks. No trace of a blush…
How disappointing.
Not long ago she didn’t trust me enough to admit her father was lying. Now, she’s falling asleep beside me, unconcerned that she’s at her most vulnerable.
A strand of blonde hair falls across her face, moving with every breath she takes. Involuntarily and against all rational thoughts, I tuck it behind her ear. She stirs, but doesn’t wake, nuzzling her face deeper into the pillow. I don’t backtrack, running gentle fingers from her ear down over the line of her jaw. She’s soft, delicate, so fragile beneath the tough exterior.
I don’t know how long I watch her for, but it can’t be more than ten minutes before her eyes pop open.
“Nash?”
I always fucking hate it when she calls me that, but right now it’s unbearable. The tone of her voice, the intent behind it, that raspy whisper…
I want Carter to roll off her sweet lips like that. Right now, in this very moment when she stares at me, her blue irises almost completely swallowed by black pupils, cheeks and neck flushed a pale shade of pink…
My favorite.
“I’m here, pretty girl. Sleep.”
She flips onto her belly, rises on one elbow and, before I anticipate her next move, she pushes me onto my back, flinging one leg over my middle.
She’s on top.
She’s fucking straddling me.
The comforter pools around her, her locks a veil flirting with her arms and shoulders. She stares down at me, feasting on my face, clear in what she wants as she slides a little lower, settling the most tempting part of her beautiful body on my cock.
This… this is my funeral. I swear, this girl will get me killed.
She adjusts herself again, her lips parting in surprise when my cock swells under her.
Not a teenie weenie, pretty girl, is it?
She shepherds the shock quickly and, with a breathless sigh, she fucking grinds into me.
Her lips part but she doesn’t throw her head back like every other woman I’ve fucked over the years. No, Hailey holds my gaze, a hint of confusion flashing in her eyes that gives way to determination when she briefly zeroes in on my mouth.
I’m so surprised I can’t find my tongue.
Where’s this coming from?
Is it alcohol?
A dirty dream?
Pent-up need?
Maybe I’m dreaming.
“I know there’s ugly here…” she whispers, touching the scars marking her neck, arms, thighs. Old first, then new. “But it’s not so bad, is it? Not pretty but… plausible?”
I hate that she’s so insecure.
She’s beauty personified. Every blemish, and imperfection. Every milky inch of her skin. Those small boobs, angry red scars, and those that almost melt with her complexion. That glint in her eyes, the bow of her full, kissable lips, those round, blushing cheeks…
She’s a romantic piece from the turn of the last century. Fiery personality clothed in innocence.
“What are you doing, Hailey?” I sidestep her question.
Telling her how sexy I think she is will encourage her and she’s not thinking clearly, her judgment clouded by alcohol.
The question falls on deaf ears as she moves again, angling her hips to press her clit against the hard bulge in my boxers.
“You’re drunk,” I grit out, every word requiring more effort. “You’ll regret this tomorrow, Hailey. Get off me and sleep.”
She pouts again, pursing those ruby lips a second before a pang of mortification crosses her face. There’s more there… regret? Sadness? Whatever it is, I hate it.
It doesn’t fucking suit her. That arousing, awed glint flickers away. Cheeks flush scarlet as she glances down the length of her body, stopping at the point where we meet, the exact spot hidden beneath the black fabric of the tee she’s wearing.
I can’t handle the shame heating her cheeks. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She’s breathtaking, beyond erotic when she prioritizes her own needs. Absolutely spellbinding.
“Hailey.”
She doesn’t look up.
What’s more, she starts sliding off and… fuck. I shouldn’t, but I fill my hands with her hips, holding her in place.
“Eyes, pretty girl. Look at me.”
“Um… I’m sor—”
“Don’t finish that sentence. Look at me.”
Now she does. The order in my voice isn’t something she’ll willingly disobey.
“You want to come, don’t you?” I dip my fingers in her flesh. “No. You need to come, isn’t that right?” Mimicking the move she made a moment ago, I yank her a few inches closer, a low groan vibrating in my chest at the contact. “You’re so worked up you’re dripping. I can feel how wet you are.” I push her back, my body wound up tight as her pussy crawls across my cock. Her mouth parts on cue, a silent oh. “You can use me, but I want your eyes on mine while you do it.”
“I… I—” she stutters.
She’s not sure what to do, but her body decides for her. She grinds into me, her cheeks red hot.
My. Favorite. View.
“Nash…”
“Don’t think. Ride me, Hailey.”
And she does.
She lets loose, pushing her inhibitions aside as she angles her hips back and forth. Her uncertainty fades fast. She starts slow, then gains momentum in sync with the sweet moans penetrating the otherwise silent room.
Another oh, louder, beyond titillating.
“Good?” I question, my heart hammering my chest, my stomach twisting like a wrung-out rag.
“So… oh. So good.”
She tugs the hem of her t-shirt, pinches the fabric between her fingers and it rolls up, then falls, and rolls up again, giving me glimpses of her bare stomach and…
“Fuck,” I growl, eyes where she’s flashing her pussy, bare save for a strip of dark hair. “Where are your panties?”
“I… God… I don’t sleep in my underwear.”
She’s definitely trying to kill me.
I openly stare at the glistening, pink, swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, darkness consuming my mind in a split second.
Not darkness… jealousy.
“Names,” I rasp. “I want the name of every fucker who’s ever seen you this way, Hailey.”
Disheveled, horny, eyes hooded, lips parted… I don’t blink, refusing to miss one detail.
“Why?” she gasps, looking through thick eyelashes.
So I can kill every man who witnessed this. Every man who’s still thinking about her, recalling the awed bliss painting her face. I can’t have some lowlife jerking off to his memories of her.
A small smile curves her lips like she knows something I don’t. It slips quickly, morphing into a satisfied o. She lifts her hand, tapping the side of her head.
“I can’t remember names.”
I slide my hands a little lower, filling my hands with the soft flesh of her ass and guide her moves. A little faster, a bit more pressure because she’s close.
This image—Hailey in my t-shirt, grinding over me—will forever remain carved into my brain. The way her back arches and her fingers dig into her thighs. Pink cheeks, the tendons pulsing along her neck, the sweat beading at her hairline.
Gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous.
She makes a little whimpering noise at the back of her throat that almost sends me spiraling.
I want her moans in my mouth. I want to drink every whimper and gasp while our tongues mingle. I want her pouty lower lip between my teeth. I want her under me, those big eyes staring up, her thighs cinching my waist.
It takes every ounce of control buried deep within my bones not to take what I want. What I need.
I picture my hands ripping the t-shirt off her, fingers toying with her nipples. I picture biting her neck and thrusting my hips to help her get off. I see my arms wrapping around her back, holding her close, molded into my chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Skin on skin. Trapped.
No space between us.
But the reality, as torturous as it is, isn’t worse. It’s fucking amazing. Her sweet, hot pussy sweeps my cock with more and more purpose. My boxers are soaked where she makes contact using the stiff length to her own advantage.
And boy, do I fucking let her.
“Hailey,” I coax. “Come for me, pretty girl.”
She shudders, upping the tempo. Faster, harder. Another moan fills the room. Louder, shorter. Just like every breath she swallows… She’s close. So fucking close I almost taste it.
That almost is agony. I want her orgasm bursting onto my tongue, my fingers, my cock.
What is she doing to me?
I never care about the women I fuck. My needs are the only goal, but right now I want nothing more than her orgasm.
“That’s it. You’re almost there and I. Want. To. Watch.”
I fucked my hand thinking about her for weeks, but not one scenario I’ve conjured rivals the raw intensity of this moment. If I had one wish, I wouldn’t wish for money or power. I wouldn’t wish to find out where the evidence is or what information Rhett’s hiding.
Because he is hiding something from me.
I’d wish for Hailey to be sober. Sober, willing and as pliant as she is now, her soft gasps hitting my ears like staccato.
“Good girl,” I whisper. “You’ll come for me in three…” She angles her hips, searching for more friction. “Two…” I sink my fingers into her hip bones, helping her work faster. “One.” And just this once, I thrust up, too weak to resist the temptation of sending her over the edge. “Now, Hailey. Let go.”
She stills for one second, and then her whole body shakes on top of mine, her moans so loud I cover her mouth with one hand, the other still guiding her moves.
“Oh yes, right there,” she mewls, throwing her head back at last, both hands kneading her breasts through the black tee.
Laying still instead of pinning her down is unbearable. I want to dip two fingers inside her and feel her pussy clench. I want to make her come again, and again…
“That’s it, that’s it, Hailey. That’s a good girl. Don’t stop. Not yet. Keep working.”
If I could, if she was sober, I’d have her on her back, screaming into my hand again within seconds. I’d dive between her thighs and feast until dawn.
Her orgasm perfumes the air, driving me incoherent with need. I’m not far off exploding in my boxers like a pre-ejaculating teen without a shred of control.
“Gorgeous,” I say, taking my hand from her mouth. “Fucking gorgeous when you come.”
I grip her waist, push her back a little, then pull her down until she lays on my chest, a content sigh hitting my ears. The need to close her lips with mine almost tears me a new one, but like everything else, it’ll have to wait until she’s sober.
My arms snake around her when she nestles her head under my chin, utterly spent.
She’ll get me killed. I fucking know it.
