VANYA
The night sky sprawls overhead with stars that twinkle like they have something to prove. An ambulance wails. A generator hums. The quietest of symphonies. The world seems distant as we stroll through the hospital’s garden.
I let out a soft sigh and put effort into keeping my mouth shut. Hadyn’s been silent for the past five minutes even though he said he was ready to talk.
The suspense is building and building.
Anxiety has me by the throat.
But I keep telling myself to be patient.
When I ran to the hospital earlier, I was prepared for Hadyn to try and send me home. Which he did. But he couldn’t commit to it and, for once, I’m glad that I never obey his orders.
If I’d listened to him, we wouldn’t be here, walking laps in the hospital garden, waiting for the truth to be revealed.
On our third run around the garden—I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that tree twice already—Hadyn stops me with a hand on my arm.
I turn swiftly, eager to end the merry-go-round.
His jaw clenches, and it’s only then that I realize how insensitive I’m being. Hadyn’s the chatty type and the fact that he’s finding it difficult to speak proves how serious this conversation is.
The turmoil on his face makes me regret pushing him to open up.
“Hadyn,” I whisper, “you don’t have to—”
“Ollie was adopted,” Hadyn blurts at the same time.
I go stock-still. The words bang around in my brain, but they don’t make sense to me. Ollie was as much a part of the Mulliez family as Hadyn. He even looked like Mrs. Mulliez with his softer features and kind smile.
“Hadyn,” I say, moving toward him.
He takes my hand before I can put it on his shoulder and rub. Voice ragged, he warns me, “Wait, Van. Let me… let me get this out. I don’t think I can get this out if you touch me.”
I don’t understand what he means by that, but I respect his wishes. Slipping my hand out of his, I keep my arms at my sides even though I can see that he really needs a hug.
Hadyn runs a hand down his face and curses. With every breath I take, it feels like I’m sucking in more and more of his grief. He’s only releasing a fragment of it. Just a slice. And yet it’s already overwhelming.
He runs a hand through his hair and the strands flop haphazardly over his forehead. “Mom found it difficult to conceive. She tried with the fertility treatments and doctors, but it wasn’t happening. She came to a point where she thought getting pregnant wasn’t a choice for them.”
We do another lap. I don’t even check if we’ve passed the same tree again.
“Lineage is a big deal to the Mulliez family,” Hadyn continues. “And handing over the business to a stranger was not something mom and dad were prepared to do. So they went shopping for a smart, moldable kid they could turn into their perfect heir.”
I flinch at his words. There’s so much bitterness to unpack there. I’m almost afraid to touch it because it’s so raw, pulsing and infected.
“Ollie was the chosen one. He was smart, got good grades, did everything he was told. They took him in and made him a Mulliez. New clothes. New school. New life. They even gave him a new name. Oliver Jr.”
I nod. I don’t know what Ollie’s name was before he entered the Mulliez family, but ‘Ollie’ suited him.
“When he looked and lived like a Mulliez, they started training him to act like one. He didn’t disappoint. He aced every class. He mastered every instrument. Learned several different languages. He became the perfect son.”
“A few years later, the unexpected happened. Mom got pregnant, and I came along. Suddenly, the Mulliez family had a ‘true heir’.”
“You’re saying your parents cast him aside?” I whisper.
“I’m saying that Ollie pushed himself even further to prove they still had a use for him. How could he do any differently? Mom and dad only chose him because they didn’t have another option. Now they did.”
“Did he say that to you?” I gasp.
“Not to my face. But looking back, it made total sense. Dad isn’t the type who’s ever satisfied. He was always hard on Ollie. Always. Expected him to be perfect. My brother had no choice but to live up to that.”
“Your dad seemed close to Ollie though,” I muse, recalling all the times I heard Mr. Mulliez yell at Hadyn to be more like his brother.
“That’s how it looked on the outside, but dad put too much pressure on Ollie. Treated him more like a machine than a person. I never knew why.” His breath hitches. “I just looked at how hard Ollie lived his life and thought I didn’t want to be like that.”
“I remember you arguing sometimes.”
Regret passes over his face. “I thought he was a robot. I didn’t realize the reason he was so devoted to the business was because he knew he was adopted. As the biological child, I had the privilege of goofing around and he didn’t.”
Poor Ollie.
“Towards the end, we fought a lot more. Ollie suddenly became obsessed with teaching me how to manage the company. He kept pushing and pushing me. So I pushed back. Said some awful things to him.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I tell him.
“Yeah, it was.” Hadyn stops suddenly and looks down at me. “Are your feet hurting?”
“What?”
He eyes a bench nearby. It’s surrounded by bushes with colorful blooms.
“Sit down, V. You’ve been running around all day.”
“It’s okay.” I’d rather he keep talking than try to distract me with finding a seat.
But he doesn’t listen.
“Why do you always have to be so fussy?” I grumble as he drags me to the bench.
“Because you don’t listen to your own body even when it’s screaming at you to ease up. You’re carrying Project Vegas now. You have to…”
“Think for two. I know.” I roll my eyes. Is that his catch phrase now? It’s so annoying.
Hadyn sits beside me, stretches his long legs and stares at the trees that are waving at us.
I’m afraid the conversation will stop there but, at last, he keeps talking.
“When Ollie got sick, he didn’t tell mom and he didn’t tell me. If we weren’t fighting so much, maybe he would have. Or maybe not. If I’d known, I would have dragged him to the hospital. I would have thrown money at every research facility I could find. I wouldn’t have let it happen.”
I frown in sorrow. “Everyone was shocked when he passed so suddenly. I heard that no one knew about it.”
“That’s not true.” Hadyn scrubs the heel of his hand against his chin. His bristly five-o’clock shadow makes a scraping sound. “Dad knew he was sick, but he didn’t push Ollie to get treatments.”
His fingers curl into fists. “If he’d just dragged him to a hospital instead of shoving him into another meeting, maybe I would still have my brother. Maybe he’d be here to rib me about racing or scold me for fighting with dad. But he’s gone. And it’s dad’s fault. He used Ollie like a work horse and then threw him away. Who treats their own son like that?”
I nibble on my bottom lip. “There could be another explanation.”
Frustrated, he rubs his chin again. “No, there isn’t. Dad is a tyrant. And because Ollie was so obsessed with pleasing him and getting his approval, he didn’t treasure his own life.”
“I’m so sorry you had to lose him, Hadyn.”
“I didn’t lose him. He was taken from me.”
It must have felt like an avoidable death, especially since his dad had known all along about Ollie’s sickness.
“Did you ever talk to your father about it?” I ask.
“I confronted him with the truth.” Hadyn chuckles bitterly. “And you know what he said to me? That Ollie was gone, so I had to ‘wise up’ and take over the company. Ollie was dead and dad acted like he didn’t even care.”
I wait for a few seconds before I speak, hoping that I don’t trample on Hadyn’s grief while offering another perspective.
Hadyn shakes his head. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“You’re going to say that it wasn’t dad’s fault.”
“Says who?”
He gives me the side-eye. “I know you, Van. You’ve been biting your lip and playing with your collar for a while.”
“I have not,” I mumble, quickly pulling my hands down and gathering them in my lap.
Hadyn swivels his body toward me. His knees knock into mine. “Go ahead.”
“I believe you, Hadyn. And I see your way of looking at things. I totally do—”
“Here it comes.” He braces himself.
“But,” I place my hand on his knee, “you’re filling in a lot of the blanks yourself instead of going to the source.”
“You expect me to talk to my dad after what he did?”
“What exactly did he do? Take in an orphan and give him a better life? Hand over the keys to his family’s entire empire to someone who doesn’t share his blood?”
“Leave Ollie to languish without medical help,” Hadyn spits. “You forgot that part.”
“Ollie was his own man and could have made a different decision. He didn’t.”
“Are you saying that I shouldn’t blame dad for pushing my brother to the limits all for that stupid company?”
“I’m saying Ollie was incredibly smart. You said it, and I saw it with my own eyes. He chose to do what he loved until the end.” I swipe my dry lips with my tongue.
I’m nervous about touching this, but Hadyn’s never shied away from giving me the hard truth and I believe I can return the favor.
“Your brother was a lot older than the both of us, so I didn’t spend much time around him, but when I did, he seemed happy. Not burdened. Not pressured. He liked working. It gave him purpose.” As someone who’s got my own obsession with work, I understand. “And being in your family gave him joy.”
“No. It was a prison.”
“What kind of prison hands their inmates the key to the city?”
“You don’t understand.” He turns away from me.
“Don’t understand what? That Ollie chose to spend his last moments doing the work he loved with the people he loved around him? That he believed so much in the company that he devoted his dying breath to it?”
Hadyn starts to tremble.
“Hadyn.”
“What?” he barks at the grass.
I inch off the bench and crouch in front of him. Tilting my head up, I look into his eyes. I cup his chin and feel the harshness of his stubble on my palms. “This is something you probably don’t want to hear, but I think it’s important that you listen well.”
His gaze pierces mine. It’s only a flicker of a warning before he goes back to observing the grass in explicit detail.
I could force his head up and try to find his gaze again, but it’s good enough to know he’s listening.
“Your father isn’t a murderer.”
His nostrils flare, and his lips tighten. I slap a hand over his mouth before he can argue with me.
“You need someone to blame and I get that. It’s not like you can blame Ollie. You loved him. You idolized him. Maybe you were even a little jealous of him. And that’s okay because we do that to the people in our lives. He was your brother, no matter what some stupid genetic test says. No one can ever say he wasn’t a Mulliez to the bone.”
I start to lose my balance and drop my hands on Hadyn’s thighs to steady myself.
“But Ollie is gone. Beating yourself and your dad up about what happened isn’t going to bring him back. There’s no bringing him back. You know who is still able to come back? Your father.”
“And if you spend one more day being an absolute idiot, hating him and calling him a murderer instead of talking to him about what happened and getting to the truth, I’ll have serious concerns about Project Vegas’s IQ level. Because no matter how high mine is, it’s not going to be good if it’s averaged with zero.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Never go into counseling, Vanya. Never.”
My lips twitch. “You need this.”
“Oh, I need this?”
I nod. “I still miss my mom every single moment of every day. There are days when I want to call her and ask about something. Then I realize she’s not there and I have to carry that weight around with me. You don’t need to go through that. This is an opportunity to clear up a misunderstanding with your dad. And who knows? You may feel closer to Ollie if you try to see things from his perspective.”
He scowls at me. “Even if I were to take your advice, dad would have to wake up first.”
“You’re right, but—” I start to lose my balance again.
Hadyn wraps his fingers around my arms and yanks me up and into his lap. I crash into his chest and let out a surprised little cry.
His arm bands around me, holding me firmly in place.
I squirm. “What are you doing?”
“Punishing you for not taking my side.” He buries his nose in my hair.
“I’m just saying—”
“Stop talking, Vanya,” he growls. “You’ve challenged me enough for one night.”
I push out my lips and let a moment of silence pass. Hadyn strokes his fingers over my back and down my hip. The sounds of the night pour between us, filling in the silence like a bucket of water.
After a few minutes, I look up at him. “By the way, I would make an awesome therapist.”
He snorts. “The world is a better place because you chose modeling.”
I scoff in annoyance.
Hadyn’s phone rings at that moment.
It’s his mom.
He puts the call on speaker so I can hear too.
“Mom?”
“Hadyn!” Mrs. Mulliez sounds like she’s out of breath. “It’s your dad.”
I almost fly to the ground with how fast Hadyn stands up. He notices the way I flail and quickly grabs me and helps me keep my balance.
“Sorry,” he says, flashing me an apologetic look.
Under normal circumstances, I’d give him the stink eye, but I let it pass for now.
Hadyn takes my hand and our fingers slide together perfectly. “Tell me what happened, mom.”
“He woke up.”
I wonder if Hadyn realizes he’s squeezing my hand to death.
“It was just for a second. He opened his eyes and his hand twitched,” she says.
I let out a huge sigh of relief. That’s still a good sign.
“What did the doctors say?” Hadyn asks.
“That he’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re happy that he’s showing cognizant behavior.”
Hadyn bobs his head up and down.
I give his shoulders a squeeze. “That’s wonderful,” I whisper.
“Are you coming back now?” Mrs. Mulliez sounds equal parts hopeful and resigned to hearing ‘no’.
Hadyn glances at me.
I pry his fingers off, wince when I feel the spasm he caused by gripping my hands to within an inch of their life, and shake my arms loosely.
With a sigh, he answers his mother. “I’ll stay a few more hours. See if he wakes up again.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, son. I… I really appreciate it.”
“Sure, mom.” Hadyn hangs up.
I move back. “You’re taking my advice?”
“Never said that.”
“It was implied,” I tease. Then I check my watch. “I should probably go home now. Someone told me I shouldn’t be out this late.”
“Let me walk you to your car.” He moves as if he’ll follow me, but I hold up a hand.
“I’m fine. Go be with your mom.” I give him a quick wave and hurry away before he can argue with me.
Although I’m exhausted, my heart is full. I’m glad that Hadyn unburdened some of what he’d been holding inside. He has the chance to fix it now rather than regret it later. Not everyone is so lucky.
I’m halfway to the parking lot when I hear footsteps pounding behind me.
I whirl around.
“Vanya.” Hadyn jogs until he’s standing right in front of me.
My eyes double in size. “What…”
His fingers dive for my chin and he tilts my head back firmly. Then his mouth drapes over mine. Shocking and hot. His other hand slides over my waist and settles at my back. He draws me into him and kisses me like there’s not enough oxygen in the world for the both of us.
I gasp in surprise, but I don’t hit him or try to break the kiss. Instead, I tilt my head and kiss him back.
Clearly, I’m not thinking straight. This is Hadyn. Annoying, pain-in-my-butt, unfairly gorgeous, jerk with a chip on his shoulder Hadyn. Sexy, troubled, kissing-my-socks-off-like-a-maniac Hadyn.
He presses his mouth more firmly against mine and a tortured sound rips from the back of my throat—part moan, part yes, please and part what the hell is wrong with me?—but the thoughts quickly fade as my body tightens with longing for more.
I thread my fingers into his hair and kiss him harder, deeper.
We shouldn’t be doing this. His dad’s in the hospital for crying out loud! His mom is waiting for him to come back. But when it’s time to break the kiss, I’m not the one who lets go.
Hadyn does.
Eyes unyielding, he looks down at me.
My blood is pumping hot and fast through my veins and my fight or flight instincts scream at me to run. I tighten my fingers into fists and stay instead. “What was that?”
“That was the rest of your punishment,” Hadyn whispers. A smile tugging at his lips, he moves back. “Text me when you get home. I want to know you got in safe.” Then he turns and hurries into the hospital.
I stand in place for a few long beats, unable to believe what just happened.
ONE HOUR BEFORE THE VEGAS WEDDING
I can hear the alcohol sloshing around in my skull. Brain fluid? Who needs that? I’ve got whiskey and tequila.
“It jiggles.” Stretching out my arm, I show off the layer of skin that responds like an instrument when I shove it. “See?” I hurl said arm in front of Hadyn’s ruddy face to prove my point.
“I see it, Van.” Hadyn laughs, pushing my hand down.
I drag my chair closer to his. “This body…” I run a hand over my hips. “This black, curvy body was the first on the cover of American Vogue and… um… did I miss anything? Oh yeah!” I lurch toward him. “Sports Illustrated.”
“Congratulations, V.” Hadyn takes a sip of his martini. “You’re really doing things.”
“No, no, no.” I wag my finger and slur. “This isn’t for me.”
“No?” He arches an eyebrow.
“This is to empower someone to do something they are more than capable of doing but was told they couldn’t.” I lean back and push two hands at myself, squishing my chest in the process. “Look at me. If I can do it, then absolutely everyone can do what they want to do. Who says we have to stop? Who says we can’t because we’re big and black and beautiful?”
“Did you always get this preachy when you’re drunk?”
“I’m not drunk.” I stand so abruptly my chair scrapes back. Leaning over, I place both hands on his shoulders. He’s got two heads, but I won’t ever let him know that. “Even you, Hadyn. You could do so much more if you weren’t such a player.”
“Oh-ho.” His eyes widen. “Are we at that portion of the Drunk-Vanya show?”
“Not drunk,” I say.
“I need another shot,” he says. Then he downs two.
“What are you doing with your life?”
“I’m having fun.”
“That’s it?” I ask.
“What more do I need?”
I inch away from him, scrub my chin and look him up and down. “You’re attractive.”
He raises both eyebrows in shock.
“But,” I add before the compliment can get to his head, “I don’t think you’re the commitment type. That’s your problem. You don’t commit to anything.”
“How do you know that?” He defends.
“You’re a playboy with no sense of responsi… res-pons-ssi-bility. You don’t know what commitment is.”
He grits his teeth. His face looks even redder than usual and I don’t know if it’s the liquor finally setting in or if he’s angry.
“I do know what commitment is,” Hadyn slurs.
My laughter is loud. I set my fingers on his shoulders to steady myself. “Proof it. I mean prove it.”
“Okay then.” He jumps to his feet and drags me out of the bar.
“Where are we going?”
“You want commitment? I’ll show you commitment.” He glances back with gleaming eyes. “Let’s get married.”
A thudding sound rouses me from my bed. Groggily, I shoot to a sitting position.
The house is quiet.
“Project Vegas,” I sling an arm around my belly, “what was that?”
It’s not like I expect a response, but I kind of wish one would come from the hallway. At least to let me know I’m not crazy.
“I’m sure I heard something,” I mumble when the eerie silence continues.
On edge, I slide off my bed and haul on my duck slippers.
Hadyn?
I texted him last night after I came back home and he told me he’d be spending the night with his mom at the hospital.
After that I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. My mind kept running like a hamster on crack.
Ollie.
Hadyn.
The kiss.
There was so much to process.
I don’t even remember nodding off.
A glance down the hall reveals Hadyn’s door is open, like it always is.
“Hadyn?” I whisper.
I tiptoe to his room and push the door. It widens to reveal a neat bed and clean floors. My jaw drops and I rub my eyes a couple times.
The last time I was in Hadyn’s room, I was so occupied that I didn’t notice anything else.
But now I’m noticing a whole lot.
“How is this so clean?” I hiss.
The man grew up with housekeepers. As in plural. I assumed he had absolutely no clue how to do anything for himself.
“Want to come in?” a voice rumbles close to my ear.
I yelp and flail around.
Hadyn is standing behind me, wearing nothing but a towel. His hair is limp from the shower and trickles of water run down his abs.
“You’re back?” I croak, setting my hand on my chest and waiting for my heart to calm down. It’s an impossible task when I get a glimpse of that sexy V-line riding low beneath his towel.
Hadyn nods and moves into his room.
I inch backward so I’m standing exactly outside the threshold and observe him objectively. He looks a lot more relaxed now than he did last night. His shoulders are loose and his eyes are calm.
He winks. “I know you want to see me naked, Van but geez. Give a man a little warning first.”
“Shut up.” I whirl around to give him privacy, but the picture of his perfectly sculpted body is stuck in my head. “H-how’s your dad?”
“He woke up this morning and started cursing the doctors for making him miss his business meeting. He almost had a heart attack when they told him he’s not going back to the company any time soon. We called Will. He stayed back with mom to calm him down.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“My dad?” He shakes his head. “Didn’t seem like the best time to have a heart-to-heart. Since he’s alive and ornery as ever, I think I’ll get another chance.”
Though I want to push it, I keep my peace. Mr. Mulliez is just as stubborn as Hadyn. If not more so. Saving the conversation for a better time is probably wise.
“How are you feeling today?” Hadyn asks. “Any morning sickness?”
I yawn. “Funny enough. I get ‘morning sickness’ in the afternoons, not that much in the morning anymore. Go figure.”
“Yeah, I read about that. The term ‘morning sickness’ is a little misleading.” He pats my shoulder.
I turn around and find that he’s fully dressed. The blue T-shirt hugs his shoulders and muscular arms. It brings out the lighter blue of his eyes and makes him seem softer, dreamy even.
My heart flips over, but it’s only because I’m tired and concerned about him.
Hadyn leans against the door and looks at me.
My eyes dart from left to right and I struggle for a topic that will kill the heavy sexual tension. When none comes to mind, I decide to face the elephant in the room head on.
“I want to talk about that night in Vegas,” I say.
I can see the wheels turning in his head. He arches a brow warily. “What about it?”
“I remembered what I said to you in the bar. I remember why we decided to get married.”
“Yeah?” His lips curl up.
“I accused you of not being able to commit to anyone. It was wrong of me to say that. I’ll own up to it.” I fold my hands together. “But you were the one who suggested marriage. Why would you do that?”
“You dared me to prove it,” he points out flatly. “And I did.”
“Exactly, Hadyn, it was just a dare. You shouldn’t have taken me seriously. If you’d stopped me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
And by ‘in this mess’, I don’t mean having a kid. I’m talking about the mess he’s made of my head. The mess he’s made of my perfectly ordered life. The mess he’s made of my loins that go absolutely wild whenever he touches me.
I’ve always seen Hadyn as the untouchable rich kid. An unapologetic player. A broken heart waiting to happen. He’s a flirt and a friend, so it was nearly impossible to put him in a box marked ‘do not touch’. But I did it. I managed to keep him at a distance and steered clear of falling into his trap for all these years.
And now something’s broken. I’m starting to lose my edge. After hanging out every night, after all the chai and the laughter, the lines in my head keep getting blurred.
That kiss last night didn’t help either. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of him, I want him to pull me into his arms. I want to shut him up with kisses when he gets on my nerves. I want to strip him out of his clothes, touch him, taste him—and it’s all wrong. It’s all a mess.
And I hate when there’s something in my life, in my world, that’s out of order.
“Just a…” He barks out a laugh. “Don’t you remember what happened after we left the bar?”
I shake my head slowly.
“I tried to back out,” he says, taking a step forward. “I told you marriage was a big deal and maybe we should re-think it since we were both drunk. You insisted on going through with it. Said I was chickening out when I tried to stop us.”
His words shake a memory loose. A drunk me throwing my heels at him. Calling him a coward.
Sheepishly, I glance away. “This is why I don’t drink.”
He stares heatedly at me.
My breath gets stuck in my throat. “What?”
“You’re still blaming me, Van.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I didn’t drag you to the altar. You went. Willingly. You were the one who asked for the real marriage registration form. You were the one who stopped everything and insisted on wrapping toilet paper around your clothes so you could have a ‘real wedding dress’. You were the one who kissed me after Elvis called us ‘husband and wife’.”
“Elvis impersonator,” I correct him in a hoarse voice.
Hadyn prowls toward me, taking up too much of my air and my space.
“Vanya.” His voice traps me in place. The way he says my name is pure velvet.
I’m trembling from annoyance and shame and lust. It’s a potent concoction that only Hadyn Micheal Mulliez can bring out of me.
Feeling cornered, I speak heatedly, “Maybe I took the joke too far. But you should have stopped me. There were so many opportunities for you to leave me at the altar. Why didn’t you just back out?”
“Because it was you!” he snaps.
I stop and stare at him.
Hadyn scowls at me. “You frustrate the s—“ his eyes drop to my stomach, “crap out of me. You’re always drawing the line. Always wound tight. You act like nothing fazes you.”
“I do not…”
“Don’t give me that bull, Van.” His eyes flash. “You’re a control freak and you never give yourself the opportunity to do something that’s just for you. Something that doesn’t make sense or has no real value except to make you happy. But you did that night. You were completely in the moment and I wasn’t going to stop that.”
“Well, I wish you had!” I yell.
Hadyn grabs my hand and tugs me. I fall into him and, a moment later, his mouth latches onto mine. He kisses me angrily and my head almost pounds into the wall from the force of it. I tighten my fists in his hair to keep steady and get swept away in a desire that nearly blinds me. It’s frightening. Disarming.
He wrenches his mouth back. “Say that again. I dare you.”
My chest rises and falls, brushing against his. My heart is about to burst out of my chest and I can’t explain it. Can’t explain any of it.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But it feels too good to stop.
His fingers slide around the back of my neck and squeeze. “I’m real freaking tired of waiting on you to remember, Van.”
Those silver eyes are hot enough to melt my skin off my bones. I’ve never seen Hadyn like this before. Or maybe it’s always been there, but I was too afraid to acknowledge it. Too afraid that if I came close to that fire, it would consume me.
He scoops me into his arms and kicks his bedroom door fully open so he can barge in.
“Hadyn.” I gasp when he throws me on the bed and crawls over me. “I… you… what are you doing?”
“Reminding you.” His hand slides over me, brushing so close to where it needs to be.
I shiver from his touch, some primal part of me wanting more. “W-what?”
It’s the only word I can get out before he dives in to kiss me again. I melt under him. Open my lips and invite more. He rewards me by shifting his head and slanting his lips more urgently over mine. His tongue swipes my bottom lip and then the seam of my mouth. I hold on to him, losing my breath, my sanity, my ability to think.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to kiss you?” he bites out.
Why does that sound familiar?
I blink up at him as he slides his fingers into mine, clasps my hands and pins them on either side of my head. The tiny part of my brain that hasn’t gone all goo-goo for Hadyn makes the connection.
“Vegas,” I mumble. “You said that in the hotel room.”
“You remember that part?” Hadyn asks darkly.
I nod.
“You want more?” He kisses his way down my throat. Slowly. Reverently. Like he’s breathing me in.
My heart bucks against my chest.
He knees my thighs apart, pushing down into me until I groan. “You want to remember, Vanya?”
I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones or my sleep-deprived brain. All I know is that I want his hands on me.
The part of my mind that unilaterally votes for chai has now pointed its greedy eyes on Hadyn.
As I deliberate, Hadyn rolls up the bottom of my tank top until it’s a sash around my neck. His fingers mark torturous circles on my chest.
I groan in pleasure. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I’m waiting for an answer, Van,” he growls. Then he squeezes.
My back arches as sharp zips of electricity shoot into my body.
Hadyn leans down and threatens, “Should I stop?”
If he takes his hands off me, I think I might die.
I wrap my arms around his neck, giving into the currents between us. “Remind me, Hadyn,” I whisper, gripping him tightly. “I want to remember.”
He attacks my mouth immediately, as if he doesn’t want to give me an opportunity to change my mind. I yank his shirt up to his neck with one hand, which is not an easy task. Especially when his mouth descends on my chest and I forget what my own name is.
Hadyn straightens as my lax fingers leave the shirt bounded over his eyes. He tosses it impatiently across the room. I stare up at him as he straddles me, all rippling biceps and hotness and an angel wing tattoo.
The sight of it pierces through my lust-fueled fog. I trace my fingers over the ink and ask, “When did you get this?”
“Two years after Ollie died.” He digs his fingers into the hem of my shorts. “The numbers are the date of his birth. And the date that he died.” He pauses long enough to give me a dark stare. “You asked me that night, but I didn’t tell you then. I couldn’t.”
I press up on my elbows and kiss the intricate feathers lined in his chest. Our eyes meet and hold.
“Thank you for telling me now,” I whisper.
A flicker of emotion rushes through Hadyn’s eyes. But it doesn’t linger. He plants his hands on my shoulders and pushes me backward until my head sinks into the pillow.
“I’m not deviating from the script again,” he warns. My entire body jolts as he yanks both my pants and my underwear off in one smooth motion. “There’s a whole lot that you need to remember, Beckford.”
Hadyn kisses his way down my body, sending spasms of heat over every inch of my skin. Then I feel his lips on my stomach and I stiffen.
What am I doing?
I’m pregnant. Is this even…
“You’re fine,” Hadyn says as if he can read my thoughts. “We won’t hurt the baby. I checked.”
“Of course you did,” I murmur. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Shut up, Van.”
I open my mouth to snap at him, but Hadyn’s hand descends between my legs and all I can manage is a gurgling sound. The pressure builds as he teases me. Merciless. Cruel. He doesn’t stop until I sweat. Until I beg. Until I’m so desperate that I can’t hold myself together any longer.
The explosion is rude and arrogant, just like him.
Thick, decadent rolls of pleasure rush over me.
I moan.
Hadyn grunts.
And then he parts my legs further. “Keep your eyes open and hold on, sweetheart. This time, you’re not going to forget.”
