Chapter 16
Hayden
“Wound tighter than a three-day clock.”
~ Nora O’Sullivan
The headlights bounced off the city limits sign. During the drive back to Wishing Well, we’d talked a lot, but not about us. Our conversation had started with going over the details of the email that she sent me. We brainstormed some media campaigns how best to structure the website. She encouraged me to dedicate space to Ranger’s and my story, and soon other stories of vets and their rehomed service animals. As hesitant as I was to share personal details about myself, I knew that she was right. If people were going to believe in and support Hero Rescue, then I had to put myself out there.
After that we talked about our families and friends and had general small talk. It almost felt like old times. We fell back into a familiar rhythm. I knew that the things I was about to say would probably ruin that, but I didn’t have a choice. Things needed to be said. If I didn’t address the wounds that I’d caused, how could I expect them to heal?
“I still can’t believe that you got sixteen numbers. There were only twenty women there and that included me.” Jade said as she looked through the envelope that Reece had given me.
I’d tried to toss it but Jade had intercepted it. She wanted to count our totals and compare. She’d always been competitive.
“Just think how many I would’ve gotten if I’d brought Ranger,” I teased.
Instead of laughing her face scrunched. “Don’t be the douche that uses his dog to get women.”
“I think the numbers show that I don’t need the dog.” I knew that little dig would cost me, but I couldn’t help myself. I loved seeing her irritated. Not mad, just irritated. She did this little eye squint thing and head tilt that I’d always found fucking adorable.
Taking my eyes off the road for a moment, I checked to see if she’d taken the bait. To my great amusement, she had.
“If you had to call one of these back, who would it be?” She held up her hand. “Wait, let me guess. The brunette who looked like Angelina Jolie.”
“Heather? No.”
“You remember her name?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
She had suggested that I was jealous tonight, but I was beginning to think that might’ve been a pot-calling-the-kettle-black situation.
“I remember all of their names.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I talked to them and they were wearing name tags.”
I sensed her shift toward me. “The blonde with the cute headband.”
“Carolina.”
“The redhead with the killer tattoo on her forearm.”
“Jana.”
“The girl that looked like Emma Stone.”
“Cher.”
“Eeee!” she made what I guessed was her impression of a buzzer. “Her name was Emma. I saw it and thought it was weird because she looked exactly like Emma Stone.”
“Her name is Cher.” I corrected her. “She put Emma on her nametag as a joke because so many people tell her that she looks like Emma Stone.”
She huffed as she sat back against the seat and faced forward.
“Did you put your number in my envelope?” I asked the question that I already knew the answer to.
“No.”
“In that case, none.”
“What?” She turned her head my way.
“You asked if I had to call one of the women back, who would I call. If your number’s not in there, I wouldn’t call any of them back.”
I glanced over at her and saw a grin flash on her lips. It was only there for a brief second, but I saw it. It was yet another tiny crack in the walls she had up. Originally, I’d planned to chip away at them slowly, but after my session with Dr. Rice, I was changing tactics. It was time to take a jackhammer to them.
The rumbling engine of the truck silenced after I turned off the ignition in Jade’s driveway. The sudden quiet sent a pang through me. It meant that pretty soon, Jade would be hopping out of the truck and our evening together would be over.
It seemed like every minute we were together, I had a clock in the back of my brain counting down the minutes—hell the seconds—until we’d be apart again. It was the only sad part about being with her. The feeling like it would be over soon.
I turned to look at her, so beautiful in the radiant glow of the moonlight. I needed to apologize to her. I needed to try and explain some of the realizations that I’d had at therapy today.
“Jade,” I said her name as I collected my thoughts.
“Hayden.” She mimicked my serious tone as a wicked grin spread across her face.
“We need to talk.”
“Talking is overrated. I’m more of a show-not-tell kinda girl.” Jade stole my line as she leaned closer to me and placed her hand on the front of my jeans, grasping lightly on my cock, which was already hard. It had sprung to life in just the moment since she’d gotten that mischievous glint in her eye and leaned closer.
He was a responsive little—scratch that—big bugger that way.
Without breaking eye contact, she stroked her fingers up and down my stiff member. I felt each small twitch and movement of her hand, even through the sturdy fabric of my jeans.
What I felt her convey through her eyes as they looked into mine, I cannot describe. I can only say that the energy that passed between us was intense. It heightened everything. It was more than just the sensation of her caressing me through my jeans; it was because this was Jade. The energy passing between us was beyond intense.
Hell, I didn’t even think that it was something she was trying to intentionally build up. It was just a spark between us that couldn’t be denied, one that was always there, and never failed to find dry twigs and start a huge brushfire. It was just that powerful.
A groan rumbled low in my throat. It was loud in the close confines of the truck cab. I wished I was strong enough to stop her and say the things that needed to be said, but I wasn’t.
I closed my eyes and then immediately forced them open again. I didn’t want to miss one moment of the sight that lay before me. Her beautiful face, her beautiful body. So close to me, so lovely bathed in moonlight and shadows.
I never wanted to forget the way she looked right now.
Jade shifted in her seat, angled her body toward me, and leaned down so that her lush hair fell around me like a curtain. Her hands began unfastening my pants and shoving them down a bit to free my stiff erection from its denim confines.
All the air in my lungs rushed from me in a relieved exhale, as if there had been a steel band around my chest until that moment, constricting it in the same way my jeans had been holding in my shaft.
“Mmmm…” She hummed, low in her throat, her eyes cast down at my dick.
She wrapped her fingers around it and gave several slow, methodical strokes up and down, curving her hand over the tip to cup it as she rounded the top and headed back toward the base.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed, the words squeezing out through my tight throat.
I didn’t want to come right then. Not all over her hand, and certainly not after only three strokes. I had to get my shit together, and quick. Because if I allowed myself to just lie back and surrender to everything that her talented fucking hand was making me feel in that moment, that was exactly what was going to happen.
I clenched my jaw and my fists with equal force as I mustered every ounce of will I possessed to control my body.
Then, just as I was confident that I had it under control, she changed the game.
Without warning, without a single word at all, she lowered her head and wrapped her luscious lips around my tip, swirling her tongue around it luxuriantly and then sliding her head all the way down, a low moan vibrating in her throat.
Maybe Jade was right. Maybe talking was overrated.