He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, a mix of relief and happiness with a perfect swipe of the tongue. We smile against each other’s lips, and we kiss again and again. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“I am now.” He kisses me again.
“That was your first and last chance,” I murmur.
“Fair call.” His kiss deepens, and we forget where we are.
“Hey,” my boss calls. “She’s working.”
“I’ve got to go.” I smile as I try to step back.
Christopher holds my face to his as if unable to let me go. “Not yet.” He kisses me again, and I feel it to my bones. “What time do you finish?”
“Eight.”
“I’ll pick you up?”
“Okay.” I step back from him.
“We’ll go on a date?” he asks hopefully.
I smile. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats as he stares at me. “Okay . . .” He nods as if reassuring himself.
“You said that already.”
“Okay.” He frowns. “I did, didn’t I?” He steps backward into the cutlery stand. “Sorry,” he says to it before realizing it isn’t a person. He chuckles, embarrassed. “Eight?”
He’s nervous.
“Okay.” I laugh.
“That’s lots of okays,” he replies.
“Will you two knock it off?” my boss calls.
Christopher’s eyes hold mine, and I smile an over-the-top smile. “See you tonight.”
He turns and nearly skips out of the restaurant, and I proudly spin toward the kitchen.
He came back.
CHRISTOPHER
I walk at a quick pace down the street and glance at my watch. Four p.m.
Fuck.
I only have four hours.
“Where the fuck do you take a girl on a date to?” I think for a moment and then dial the only romantic person I know, Elliot.
“How’d you do?” he answers.
“She was surprisingly . . . forgiving.”
He laughs. “Good news.”
“I told her we’d go on a date tonight.”
“Good idea.”
“Was it?” I frown. “Because right now, romance is the last thing on my fucking mind.”
“Hmm. You need to get through the date part to get to the good part.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I snap. “I’ve got four hours to prepare so I can blow her socks off. What the fuck do I do?”
“Okay . . . um.” He thinks for a moment. “What do you want to do?”
“Not spend our first night in a shitty shared room, that’s for sure.”
“Book a hotel room.”
“She thinks I’m broke.”
“Tell her . . .” He thinks for a moment. “Tell her that your grandfather knows the owner and has some free-night coupons that he will never get to use, so he gave them to you.”
“Actually”—I nod as his plan rolls around in my head—“that’s not bad.”
“Then take her out for dinner.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But don’t drink too much, or else you will fuck up while having sex.”
I frown. “Define fuck up?”
“Be too rough.”
“That’s a fucking thing?” I gasp, horrified.
“Yes. That’s a thing. Nice girls who haven’t had sex in forever don’t fuck like you do. You need to train her up. Gentle and easy the first few rounds.”
“What?” I shriek. I’m so distracted that I bump into an old lady walking past. “I’m so sorry,” I call as I watch her hobble away.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Knocking over grannies. What do you fucking mean, gentle and easy? How do you fuck gentle and easy, and more importantly, why would anyone want to?” I begin to sweat. “I’m going to screw this up for sure.”
“It’s fine.”
I begin to freak out. “I don’t . . . this is a bad idea . . . I don’t know why. What the fuck was I thinking?” I cry.
“Calm down.”
“Calm down.” My eyes nearly pop from my head. “Calm down? You calm the fuck down,” I cry. “This is a disaster.”
“I’ll book a hotel for you.”
“Okay.” I stop on the spot and begin to pace. I inhale deeply as I try to calm myself. “Something nice . . . with a spa.”
“All right, I’ll text you the address.”
I imagine being naked in a spa bath with Hayden, and nerves simmer in my stomach.
Fuck.
I stop on the spot, the importance of this night suddenly now more evident than ever.
As if sensing my impending meltdown, Elliot says calmly, “It’s okay, buddy. You’ve got this. Just stay out of your head, and you’ll be fine.”
I nod.
“Don’t even think about it. I’ll text you the address of the hotel. Pack an overnight bag and go and pick her up from work like normal, and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I nod. He’s right.
“Maybe swing past a pharmacy and pick up some lube.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes,” I spit. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” I hang up in a rush.
I march up the stairs of the hostel and walk straight to my locker. I get out the gift I bought for Eddie. I’ve missed that little fucker.
I walk out to the bar area. He’s serving up the other end and doesn’t notice me. I slink onto a stool. He drifts in and out of languages like a pro, and I watch in awe. He turns and notices me, and his face lights up, and my stomach does a flip.
I frown. What was that?
“Hey.” He smiles.
“My man.” I laugh.
“Where the hell did you go?”
“I had some shit to do at home.” I pass him his gift. “I got you something.”
He stares at the baseball cap with wide eyes. It’s navy blue with the white letters NY on the front. “That stands for New York,” I tell him.
His mouth falls open, and it’s as if I have bestowed him with a sacred family jewel. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “This is incredible.” He passes it back to me. “But I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
“I want you to have it.”
“You’ve already given me so much.”
“Put it on,” I demand.
He puts it on and bends down to look at his reflection in the shiny refrigerator doors. He smiles proudly. “How do I look?”
“Great.” I smile. His happiness is infectious.
Fuck, I love this kid.
“Thank you so much.” He puts his hand over mine on the bar, and I just want to hug him. But I won’t, because I’ll come off creepy, and he’s just a kid behind the bar that I shouldn’t want to hug.
“Miss Hazen.” He gasps.
“Yes, I’ll see her tonight.”
“She’s been waiting for you to come back.”
Thank god.
“I’m taking her somewhere special tonight.” My phone beeps with a text. Elliot.
Bella Donna
Two nights.
Shit, two nights. That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it? Who the hell can be gentle for two nights in a row?
Ugh, this is all . . .
I guess I’ll play it by ear. I could be in dumpsville tomorrow anyway. The spa bath will come in handy to drown myself.
There are people waiting for Eddie to serve them. “You want a beer?” he asks.
“Um.” I frown, and Elliot’s words come back to me. “No, I’m good. I’ll catch you later, buddy.”
He smiles. “Thanks for my hat. I’ll never take it off.”
HAYDEN
I fly around the restaurant at lightning speed. Cleaning up has never been more urgent.
I glance at my watch. He’ll be here any minute. I wipe my palms on my apron, wet and clammy. Shit . . . I’m nervous. And I shouldn’t be. It’s just Christopher, but seeing him be nervous—someone who has absolutely zero to be nervous about—has now made me nervous. I should be nervous.
I haven’t slept with a thousand people and am totally inexperienced, I don’t have a figure to die for, and damn it, last time we made out, he ran for the hills.
I peer out the front window and see him walking up the street toward our meeting spot. I narrow my eyes to study him further. He’s dressed in a nice shirt and jeans and has an overnight bag with him.
Huh?
Are we going somewhere?
Oh no . . . I need to shower, and I need to shave my legs, and damn it, he can’t just surprise me with a night away on our first date. Another thought comes to my mind. Oh crap, he would have gone through my backpack to get my clothes, and I have dirty washing in there, and . . . ugh.
Without his drill sergeant ways of washing every day for us, I haven’t been doing it at all. The very last thing on my mind when I have a broken heart is housework.
I bet he’s done all my washing. Shit.
Why is he so damn neat?
I bet he’s made my bed and cleaned the room, and what happened to the stereotypical woman nagging the man? What if I wanted that job? I mean, I don’t . . . but still.
“Good night, Hayden,” my boss calls. “Thanks for today.”
“Okay.” My stomach flips. “See you next weekend.”
I go out into the kitchen and wash my hands and go to the bathroom. I try to fix my hair in the mirror and wipe the mascara from under my eyes.
Right . . . I drop my shoulders.
It’s fine.
I grab my bag and make my way out and up the street. Every step closer I get to him, I get a little more nervous. He stands waiting patiently, an overnight bag in his hand.
“Hi.” I smile.
“Hi.” He bends and kisses me softly, his lips lingering over mine.
I’ve missed him.
“What’s with the bag?” I ask.
“I . . . thought that . . . if it’s okay”—he’s tripping over his words—“I booked a hotel for the night.”
“Oh . . .”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m a sure thing,” he adds. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Right.” I giggle. He takes my hand, and we begin to walk up the road. “Are you a sure thing, though?” I ask.
“Absolutely.” He gives me a sexy smile with a wink.
“We don’t need to stay in a hotel. That’s way too expensive, and the others aren’t even here.”
“I didn’t know that when I booked it.” He pauses. “Well . . . my brother booked it with some coupons he had.”
“Which brother?”
“Elliot.”
I smile as I listen.
“So if the hotel is shit, we have him to blame.”
“Good, I will.” I smile. We walk in silence for a little way. “Did you pack me some things?”
“Yes.”
“Did you do my washing?”
“Maybe . . .” His eyes flick over to meet mine. “I did our washing.”
“You just got here today,” I reply.
“I had things to wash.”
“Did you make my bed?”
He raises his eyebrow. “Possibly.”
I roll my lips.
“In my defense, I had a wank in your bed to your scent on the sheets. I made the bed out of gratitude in a postorgasmic glow.”
I burst out laughing, and he laughs too. Our eyes linger on each other’s, and my heart melts. He leans over and kisses me. “I missed you, Grumps.”
“Not as much as I missed you.”
He drops the bag and takes me into his arms, and we kiss, slow and tender, right here in the street in the middle of everyone.
“You’re very kissy today.” I smile up at him.
“I am, aren’t I?” He frowns. “I’ll have to work on that.”
He takes my hand again, and we begin to walk. “Where are we staying?” I ask.
“I don’t know, some hotel.”
“Please tell me it has a bath.”
“You like baths?”
“I love baths and haven’t had one for three months. It’s the one thing I hate about the hostels.”
He winces. “But would you really want to get into a bath at the hostel with all the depraved dirty fuckers who stay there?”
“Well, my roommate wanks in my bed while I’m at work, so . . .” I shrug, and he laughs out loud.
Oh, this feels so good . . . and normal, laughing and being ourselves. I was worried that it was going to change between us. I’m so relieved that so far it hasn’t.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight.” He smiles. “To celebrate.”
“Okay.”
Excitement bubbles in my stomach.
“What did you do when you were away?” I ask.
“Stuff.”
I glance over. “Stuff?”
“Boring stuff. What do you want to eat tonight?”
He’s changing the subject. “Something spicy.”
“Spicy?” He frowns. “I wouldn’t advise that.”
“Why not?”
“We are sharing a bathroom.”
I giggle. “Good point.”
He glances down at the maps on his phone. “Actually, the hotel is too far from here. We’ll catch an Uber.”
“Okay.” He punches in our coordinates. “We’ll wait here.” He pulls me onto the curb and pushes me up against the wall.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. People are beginning to look at us.
“Kissing my girl on the street. What does it look like?” His lips take mine.
His girl.
I smile against his lips; the night is already a raging success.
Twenty minutes later the Uber pulls up in front of the fanciest hotel I’ve ever seen, and I peer out the window. “Are you sure this is it?”
“Uh-huh.” He climbs out of the cab and helps me out.
“It looks too fancy,” I whisper as doormen come running to help us.
“It’ll do.” He shrugs.
I smile as we walk into the reception. The doormen all run to hold the door open.
“Good evening, Mr. Miles.” One nods.
Huh.
“How does he know your name?” I whisper.
“You know what these fancy places are like.”
“No, I don’t, actually.”
He gestures to an elegant-looking sitting area. “Sit here while I check us in.”
“No, I’ll come.”
He pushes me into the couch. “Sit.”
Jeez. “Fine.”
He goes to the front desk, and I look around at the concierge and all the staff, all wearing black suits and looking more distinguished than anyone I’ve seen so far in Spain.
Five minutes later we are riding in the elevator to our room. “What did you pack me?” I ask.
“Guess.” He smirks.
“My white dress.”
“Bingo.”
“Aren’t you sick of the sight of that old white dress?”
“Never. You can get married in it if you like.” His eyebrows shoot up, horrified by what’s just come out of his mouth. “That’s fucking weird that I said that . . . ignore me.” He begins to trip over his words again. “I mean, I don’t . . . fucking hell.”
“Relax, I know what you meant. You like the dress, I get it.” I roll my lips to stop my smile. He’s hilarious.
We get to our floor and walk up the corridor, and he opens the door. We walk in, and the air leaves my lungs. “What the hell?” I gasp. “That must be some coupon.”
It’s a full apartment, with beautiful art and luxurious furnishings. We walk through to the bedroom, and there’s a four-poster bed and huge spa bath sitting in the middle of the room. “Wow,” I gasp, wide eyed. “This is . . .”
Christopher narrows his eyes as he looks around. “Subtle, Elliot,” he murmurs.
“What does that mean?” I ask as I walk over to the window.
“Nothing. My brother is a fucking idiot, that’s all,” he snaps.
He’s still flustered about the wedding-dress comment.
“I want to shower; can you give me half an hour to get ready?” I ask him.
His eyes hold mine.
“Why don’t you go to the bar downstairs and book us a restaurant and have a drink while you wait for me? I’ll come down and meet you there.”
“Okay, a drink sounds good.” He pecks me on the lips and practically runs from the apartment. Poor bastard thinks he just proposed to me or something.
Right.
Operation hot chick.
I unzip my handbag and pull out the dress I bought today. It’s rolled into a tiny ball. Thank god it’s stretchy and doesn’t need ironing. After Christopher came into work today, I rushed out on my lunch break and bought a date dress. Even grabbed some sexy underwear. It wasn’t in my budget, but screw it—it is a special occasion.
I go through the bag of things he brought me and find my toiletries case. I quickly look through it, relieved to find a razor.
“Thank god.”
I glance at my watch in a panic . . . “Okay, let’s do this. I have twenty-eight minutes to make myself utterly irresistible.”
Thirty-two minutes later
I stare at the reflection in the mirror. Not bad. My hair is up, not by choice. Unfortunately someone didn’t pack my straightener, but that’s okay. My makeup is minimal, and I have an excited glow oozing out of me. I turn and look at my behind. Again, not bad. How I found a dress this nice in three minutes I’ll never know. It’s fitted and ruched with spaghetti straps and in the most beautiful mauve color. It’s not something I would have normally bought, but with one store to choose from and seven minutes to decide, it made the cut. I smile proudly. I kind of like it.
I take a deep steeling breath. This is it, the night I’ve been waiting for, and damn it, I just really want it to go well. I honestly believe we have something.
I put on a bright lipstick and cringe. Ew, I look like a stripper. I grab a tissue and wipe it off and put on another. “Gross.” I wipe that off, too, and finally decide on a natural gloss. “This will have to do.” I slide on my shoes: not the ones I would wear with this dress, but anyway . . . it is what it is. Christopher seems to like these shoes. He constantly gets them out for me to wear.
“Okay.” I close my eyes. “Please let this go well.”
I make my way down to the hotel restaurant and look around, and I spot him sitting at the bar. He turns at precisely the moment I see him and gives me the most beautiful broad smile as his eyes roam up and down my body.
I nervously make my way over to him. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he purrs as he slides his hand around my behind and pulls me close to him. “You look fucking hot, Grumps.” He kisses me softly.
“Thanks.” I shrug, embarrassed. “Didn’t feel like wearing my wedding dress tonight.”
He chuckles. “Thank god.” He kisses me again as the air swirls between us. Screw the date—let’s just go back upstairs right now. “I got you a drink.”
I look down to see two margaritas on the bar. “My favorite,” I reply as I slide onto the stool beside him.
His eyes hold mine, his chin leaning on his hand as he smiles dreamily over at me. “You’re my favorite.”
I nervously sip my drink, not sure how to reply. “What are we eating?”
“I know what I’m eating.” His dark eyes hold mine.
Fuck.
“I mean food.”
He raises an eyebrow as if unimpressed and sips his drink. “I don’t know, we’ll just go for a walk, I guess. I didn’t even know the names of any restaurants around here.”
“Okay.” I pick up my drink and take a sip. “Hmm, heaven in a cup.” I smile.
“I had a particularly large margarita night when I went home in your honor.”
“You did?”
“Elliot and I got margarooted.”
I giggle. “Margarooted?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tell me about Elliot.” I smile. “You two seem to be close.”
“Hmm, actually”—he thinks for a moment—“he’s a lot like you.”
“How so?”
“He’s a tragic romantic, grumpy. Reliable and loyal.”
I smile. “He is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you have three brothers?”
“I do. Jameson is the oldest, Tristan is next, and Elliot, and then me.”
“You’re the youngest child?”
He nods.
“Are you all alike?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Opposites. Jameson is driven and grouchy. Tristan and I are very much alike. We even look alike. I guess Elliot is a good mix of the three of us combined.”
I smile. I love hearing about his family.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’m an only child.”
His face falls. “An only child?”
“My mom hemorrhaged during childbirth with me and, to save her life, ended up having a complete hysterectomy. There were no other children after me.”
“Oh.” He listens intently. “How was that, growing up without siblings?” He frowns. “I can’t imagine it.”
“I don’t know any different.” I shrug. “So.”
He nods as he listens intently.
We fall silent and sip our drinks. There’s an elephant in the room that we are both avoiding talking about.
I don’t want to be the one who brings it up. He needs to.
“Germany this week, huh?” I smile.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Or we could stay here for a while longer. There’s a bartending course I wouldn’t mind doing. I already inquired about it, and there’s a vacant position next week.”
“Really?” I frown, surprised. “You want to be a bartender?”
“Well . . .” He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about what I could do for the next nine months, and there are only really two things I’m interested in.”
“What are they?”
“Being your PA and making cocktails.”
“My PA?” I frown.
“Pussy attendant.”
I giggle. “Oh, I do like the sound of that.”
“Do you pay bonuses?” he asks.
“I pay in orgasms.”
He chuckles and taps his glass with mine. “My favorite currency.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “Do the bartending course and then we’ll go, I guess.”
“Deal.” He smiles. He runs his hand up my thigh under the table, and I sip my drink. Is he going to bring up anything at all about why he left?
We fall silent again.
“What else did you do while you were home?” I ask. “You said you had to sign something.”
“Yeah, I did.” He shrugs. “That and had a near mental breakdown.”
“About what?”
“You.”
My eyes search his. “Why did you leave?”
“I panicked.”
“About what?” I whisper as I put my hand over his on my thigh. “Why? It’s just me.”
“Just you is . . . a lot.”
My face falls. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He sips his drink as if trying to think of the right thing to say. “I’ve never . . .” He exhales heavily, lost for words.
“Christopher,” I prompt him, “you can talk to me. We are friends before anything else.”
His eyes search mine. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted more with.”
I lean in and kiss him softly.
“You’re the first girl that I’ve ever been loyal to.”
“We only just got together.”
“I haven’t been with anyone for a few months.”
What?
My heart flips . . . he’s doing it without me asking.
It’s all falling into place.
He shrugs. “I couldn’t . . . and I . . . I don’t want to screw this up.”
I smile over at my beautiful man. “You won’t.” I kiss him again.
“How do you know?” he asks.
“Because as long as we’re communicating openly, you can’t screw things up.”
He stares at me.
“Running away is how you screw things up.”
“I’m sorry, I was just so . . . and . . .” His eyes hold mine; he’s lost for words.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“If things get too heavy and you feel yourself freaking out or being uncomfortable, just say to me, ‘I’m going to need a minute.’”
He frowns.
“And then I’ll know what’s going on, and I’ll step back for a while to let you adjust.”
“I don’t want you to have to tiptoe around me,” he replies.
“I won’t be. Asking for some space is completely healthy in a relationship. You need to learn to trust us.”
He nods, seemingly deep in thought.
“You’re lucky that I know what a big baby you are,” I reply as I sip my drink.
His mouth falls open in fake horror, and I want to lighten the mood.
“And maybe you just need a good punishing. I’ll smack you tonight.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s a few things you don’t know about me too,” I reply as I try to keep a straight face.
“Such as.”
“Christopher.” I take his hand in mine, acting serious. “I’m a dominant, and I want to tie you up and whip you with a belt and fuck you up the ass with a strap-on dildo.”
He snorts margarita up his nose and chokes. “What the fuck?” He coughs.
“And . . . I want you to wear anal beads,” I continue. “I bought you some. I know they’re big, but this is the size I want you to be stretched to.”
His horrified eyes hold mine.
“I have them in my handbag. I’ll put them in,” I reply seriously as I keep playing along. “We can go into the bathroom and do it now if you want. You just have to bend over and touch your toes. I’ve got some lube, and it will only be uncomfortable for a moment, but you will learn to love it . . . for me.”
“Absolutely fucking not.” He slams his drink down onto the counter in an outrage. “That is not happening. Hayden, get that shit out of your head right fucking now,” he demands.
I burst out laughing, unable to continue the ruse any longer. His eyes widen as he realizes I was pulling his leg. “Are you serious?” he gasps. “I just had a fucking heart attack.”
I giggle.
“Don’t,” he cries. “I thought I was dating Jack the fucking Ripper or some shit.”
I laugh hard and so does he. Relieved, he grabs the back of my head and drags me in and kisses me. “The only person who is getting fucked up the ass around here is you,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Aah . . . that’s a no.” I pull out of the kiss. “That is not my thing. I’ve never even done that before.”
His eyes widen in amazement. “So . . . it’s all mine?” he whispers in awe.
“No,” I reply. “It’s mine, actually.”
His eyes blaze with fire, and damn it, why did I even joke around about that subject with a sexual deviant? This is going to come back and bite me on the ass . . . literally.
The bartender comes over. “You two after anything?”
Christopher’s eyes flick to me. “You want to get going to somewhere else?”
“No.” I smile. “I’m happy with what I have right here.”
We burst through the hotel room door. Our lips are locked.
Desire between us has hit fever pitch.
The apartment is darkened, lit only by lamps.
The mood in here is sexual, but maybe that’s the company I’m with.
Christopher Miles is sexual.
It’s late. We didn’t even leave the hotel. We drank and ate and laughed right downstairs, and it’s already the best night of my life.
Christopher bends and lifts my dress over my head, and the room falls silent.
His dark eyes drop down my body. He licks his lips as he drinks me in.
I stand before him in nothing but lace underwear and high heels.
“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” he murmurs as his lips take mine. His tongue swipes tenderly through my lips, and my eyes close.
Oh . . .
“How many times I’ve jerked off imagining it was you?”
I smile against his lips as we kiss.
He undoes my bra and slowly takes it off. His eyes drop to my full breasts, and he inhales sharply. He cups them in his hands. His thumbs dust back and forth over my hardened nipples as he kisses me.
He drops to the floor and undoes my stilettos. With his eyes locked on mine, he licks up my thigh, and I hold his shoulders for support as I watch.
He kisses me there . . .
I can’t breathe.
Thump, thump, thump, goes my heart.
Oh god, can we just get on with this? I’m so nervous that I’m about to pass out.
He pulls my panties to the side and licks me with his thick strong tongue, and I shudder.
It’s been a long time.
“Hmm,” he moans into me. He stands as if spurred on and takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. The room is lit only by the lamp. The ambience in here is perfect.
He lays me down on the bed, and then he slides my panties down and spreads my legs.
“That’s it,” he whispers. His voice is deep, husky. Different from how it normally sounds.
He runs his hand down my face, over my breasts, and down between my legs. Without hesitation, he slides his finger deep inside of me and inhales sharply. “Fucking hell, you feel good,” he breathes.
I clench around him, and arousal blazes in his eyes. “Do that again.”
I do it again, and his jaw tics. He stands with urgency and kicks off his shoes. Then, with his eyes locked on mine, he undoes the buttons on his shirt, and his beautiful body comes into view: broad tanned chest, stomach rippled with muscle, and a trail of dark hair that disappears into the top of his jeans.
I hold my breath as he slides down the zipper on his jeans and then slides his jeans and boxers down and takes them off, and my eyes widen in horror.
What.
The.
Fuck.
His dick is huge and angry looking . . . not like any dick I ever saw before. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
He smiles, reading my mind, and puts his hands proudly on his hips. “Well?”
“Umm . . .” My saucer-size eyes are going cross-eyed. “I’m going to need a minute.”
“You don’t have one.” He smiles as he crawls over the top of me.
“Seriously . . .” I begin to freak out. “That’s . . .”
“Yours.”
My heart somersaults in my chest, and I smile up at him.
Mine.
“Kiss me,” he breathes.
In those two words, my fear disappears, and I lean up and kiss him. We take our time, kissing slowly, enjoying being here and in the moment with each other. So many nights we’ve lain together, and now we’re here, doing this, naked and aroused.
It’s surreal.
He goes to move down my body, and I stop him.
“No.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“Can you just . . . kiss me through this. I feel better when you kiss me.”
I’m too nervous for him to go down on me the first time.
“Okay.” He smiles against my lips. “I can do that, baby.”
The thing is, I know he’s a player and has probably slept with more people than I even know . . . but this feels special.
He watches as his fingers work my body, the perfect pressure, the perfect depth.
I’m writhing beneath him, begging for more. “Now,” I whimper. “I need more, now.”
He holds himself at the base and rubs his tip through my lips. “Condom,” I whisper.
“Really?” He frowns.
“I’m not on the pill, unless you want a baby?”
“Fuck no.” He bounces out of bed in one minute flat and shuffles through the overnight bag. He comes back and kneels on the bed. I watch as he rolls one on, and then he crawls over me and lies between my legs. Our kisses turn desperate, and my hands roam up and down over his muscular back.
Damn it, he’s perfect.
He pushes forward and is met with resistance.
Ow.
He kisses me deeper and pushes forward again. The stretch burns.
“Ahhhh,” I whimper.
“It’s okay, babe,” he murmurs against my neck. “I’m here.” He bites my neck. “Relax. Let me in.”
I nod. I’m trying, I really am, but fucking hell . . . what kind of dick is this?
A big one.
His kiss turns frantic, and I know that he’s grappling with control. His breathing is labored as he tries to hold himself back.
I lift my legs to wrap around his waist, and he drives me into the mattress. Searing pain racks me, and I whimper.
“Shh, shh,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m in.” I feel him smile against my neck. “I’m in, baby.” He kisses me. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot this is, Grumps?”
I giggle. “What . . . that I’m tight?”
“You’re tighter than tight.” He smiles darkly. “Fucking perfect.” He lifts my leg up to his chest and turns his head and kisses my ankle with an open mouth.
“Careful,” I warn him.
His eyes flicker with fire, and goose bumps scatter up my spine. He slowly circles one way and then the other to try to loosen me up. “I need you to relax for me,” he whispers. I thrash beneath him, the burn so good. “Hayden,” he says, bringing me back to the moment. “Look at me.”
I drag my eyes to his.
“Relax or I’m going to hurt you. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“You need to tell me if I’m too rough.”
“I’m okay.”
With our eyes locked, he pulls out and slides back in. I stretch wide.
Oh god . . . so, so good.
I’ve never been fucked like this.
He slides back in, and I get a rush of moisture and loosen up a little. “That’s it,” he coaches me. “Good girl, just like that.”
His husky voice does things to me, and I open my legs to the mattress, granting him full access. His eyes roll back in his head as his strong arms hold his body up off mine. He spreads his knees so he can ride me better, and I rise to the challenge. We go slow for a while. Measured and gentle pumps, and each time he pulls out, I get a little braver.
My body begins to lift off the bed to meet him, and he moans as his eyes flutter closed. “Fuck . . . so good.” He pants as we get rougher and rougher.
Soon we are hard at it. The bed is hitting the wall, and I can see nothing but stars.
I can hardly breathe, it’s so good.
“Hayden,” he moans. “Oh . . . I’m going to come.” He moans. “So fucking hard.”
Hearing his husky, aroused voice does things to me, and my body contracts as I spiral out of control, headfirst into a killer orgasm. “Ahhh,” I cry out.
“Fuck.” He moans as he slams into me, hard and piston fast, and then he holds himself deep. I feel the telling jerk as he comes deep inside my body.
We kiss as we move together, completely emptying our bodies, and he drops his head to my chest. Our skin is wet with perspiration as we pant. I feel him smile.
So close, so perfect.
I stare up at the ceiling, horrified.
I’m going to need a moment.
