THE NEXT TWO WEEKS FLY by with Hayden Clarke. At first I thought he was going to change his mind and pull away. But every day he calls and every evening we spend doing normal, ordinary things together.
Our first evening, I make dinner for us. He comes over in his adorable button-down and jeans and perches on the stool while I busy myself in the kitchen. If I was worried he’d be bored, I was wrong. He’s surprisingly content watching me work. I think he even likes it when I slap his hand every time he tries to sneak some food. I like it all, too. I didn’t realise how much I missed cooking with a warm body around. It’s like Sunday dinners with my family but with flirting.
God, I missed flirting.
Bruce helps keep the mood light, doing his duty of lapping up all of my spills that seem more frequent when I have a hot guy in the room. I swear his ears are hardwired to register the sound of the smallest crumb hitting the floor. Never mind the fact that he trips my feet up at least once every evening as an assurance for an ooey-gooey mess.
Hayden seems to love watching me and Bruce argue because he keeps coming back. Sometimes with takeaway. Sometimes with groceries. Always with a sexy smile.
Our conversation flows effortlessly, too. It’s lighthearted, getting-to-know-each-other stuff. But one evening, he turns it more serious.
“Don’t you ever cook and drink?” Hayden asks from his seat at the kitchen island stool.
“What do you mean?” I ask curiously, pausing the chopping of stir-fry veggies.
He looks down at my work and says, “Most proper chefs I know enjoy a glass of wine while they cook.”
My brows arch. “Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” I look back at him, feeling almost guilty for admitting that.
Hayden strides over to my wine fridge and grabs a bottle of white that I was cooking with earlier. He pours a glass for me and then pops the cork back into the bottle with a huff.
“I’m not fragile, Vi. I’m not going to crumble.”
Well, okay then.
I hadn’t realised that I was behaving differently around him until he made that comment. I feel a little silly about my assumption. Hayden shouldn’t have to remind me he’s okay. Just looking at him the past couple of weeks we’ve been together, I know he is doing wonderfully. However, I think he is definitely in the small percentage of recovering addicts who don’t fear relapsing every day.
He explains to me that his alcoholism is a bit different than most as it didn’t take shape until Marisa died. “I struggled with survivor’s guilt after Marisa’s death. That was the start of my problems. It wasn’t a brain chemistry issue or heredity inheritance. It was an environmental event that affected me deeply. As a result, I turned to drinking and other dangerous behaviours. But alcohol is a depressant. It stoked my guilt and caused me to drown in my own self-pity. Continuing to drink could essentially lead me back to that dark place in my mind. That means avoidance of all alcohol is paramount if I don’t want to slide down that slope again.”
I have no clue why, but I stop what I’m doing in the kitchen, walk over to him, and kiss him with a fierce pride that I’ve never felt before.
He seems taken off guard, but his arms wrap around me instinctually and he gives as good as he gets.
The more I learn about Hayden, the more I want him. Every day, he surprises me with all he is willing to share. Even his lighthearted family stories are showing me what kind of man I have in my grasp.
One evening, we take Bruce for a walk, and he tells me a hilarious story about his mum catching Theo and Leslie butt-naked in the hallway of their family home last year. I laugh so hard at the image that we have to stop walking so I can catch my breath. Then I proceed to peg him with tons of questions about his mum. The way he describes her sounds so delightful.
Following his story, I tell Hayden all about how when I was growing up, I always paid close attention to other people’s mums. My friends at school would invite me over and, instead of going up to their rooms to talk about boys, I would ask if I could help their mum make tea. It’s probably a large reason why I didn’t have many friends.
I admit to Hayden that even to this day, I watch mothers at supermarkets and fantasise about what they’re preparing their family for supper. I dream about what it would have been like growing up with someone like that to care for me. I find myself so envious of the behaviours of mothers that I have completely turned into a weirdo who stalks middle-aged women in the supermarkets.
Hayden never once judges me. In fact, he says it’s his new favourite thing about me.
Each simple moment with him feels like nothing and everything at the same time. I am completely smitten.
And I think he is, too.
His warm grey eyes seem like they get brighter the more we see each other. It’s a beautiful sight. And I can feel myself reflecting that same inner happiness that makes my insides swirl with anticipation. All of it is an aphrodisiac, and the sexual tension between us is far more potent than my cooking.
Hayden fits into my home and my life so perfectly that I find myself growing more and more desperate to take things to the next level…physically. He seems like he’s trying to be a gentleman and I am trying to respect that about him. But deep down, I want him to be bad. Very, very bad.
It’s been two weeks of this nightly routine. It’s time! I decide to make us oysters in hopes of setting the mood and making my intentions known. I think Hayden can tell I’m up to something when he shows up. I watch his eyes take in my tight white tank with no bra.
But all through dinner, his eyes seem glued to either my face or his food. They never drop below my damn chin, and I worked so hard to put on something that made him think of sex! This man has the control of a saint. While I stand at the sink washing dishes, I begin contemplating what might happen if I throw myself at him.
In the split second that it takes to place the pan onto the drying rack, I feel Hayden step up behind me. His body is warm and firm, and somehow soothing and erotic, like I conjured him right to me to fulfill all the needs I’ve been mulling over while scrubbing that stubborn pan.
“Dinner was delicious,” he purrs into my ear as he wraps his hands around my waist and then slides them down my bubble-covered arms into the water. “But I told you I was going to do the dishes.”
My breath inhales slowly because, while many kisses have been stolen between us the past two weeks, he’s never done full-body contact quite like this.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I reply, my voice a bit trembly as I twine my wet fingers with his under the water. It feels naughty and makes my nipples harden from the erotic contact. “But you were in the loo, and I had time on my hands.”
“What if I told you I have a surprise for you in the bathroom?” he asks, moving his wet hands up my forearms and back to my waist, dampening the bottom of my tank top.
My head drops back onto his chest, and I pray like hell my prayers have been answered. “What kind of surprise?” I croak, sounding so obvious I should probably be embarrassed.
He steels his hands under my shirt and slides his wet palms up my sides. My breath inhales sharply when he greedily cups my breasts. “You’ve been tormenting me all night, Bunny.”
I swallow slowly. “Have I?”
He hums a low tone of warning and runs his lips along my neck, nibbling in a way that drives me completely wild. “Walking around in this see-through tank top and looking at me with those sexy eyes of yours. I’ve been going completely mental trying to keep my hands off of you.”
“Then stop resisting,” I husk, needing to hear his voice again because I swear I could spontaneously combust if he says the right words right now.
“Is this resisting?” he asks, pinching my nipples and rolling them gently between his fingers.
“No,” I cry out breathily, a light groan slipping out between my lips.
He releases my hardened buds and palms my breasts in a possessive grasp as he presses his groin into my bottom and almost growls. “Are you ready for your surprise, Bunny?”
His firmness against me is so glorious, wonderous, and marvellous, I can hardly form coherent thoughts.
“Good God, yes,” I all but moan, shamelessly jutting my rear into his erection.
“Come with me,” he replies and removes his hands from my breasts to take my wet hand in his.
He leads me through my bedroom and into my en suite where he’s drawn a bubble bath in my soaker tub that overlooks the city.
“We’re taking a bath?” I ask with an excited smile.
“Something like that,” he replies, stepping toward me and instructing me to lift my arms so he can remove my tank top. He drops his hands to remove my shorts and I want him to look at me. I want him to see me completely naked. I want his grey eyes all over my body.
But he doesn’t take his eyes off of mine.
The cheeky bugger.
He offers me his hand and helps me into the bath. I sink down into the hot water, and a pressure builds between my thighs from the heat of his eyes and the heat of the water hitting me all at once.
The bubbles cover all of my bits, and I bite my lip coyly and toss a handful of suds up into the air. “Aren’t you joining me?” I ask, as he looks down at me with so much heat in his eyes, he could have cooked our food tonight.
He bends over and brushes his finger down my nose. “Not tonight, naughty bunny.”
I deflate, my thighs clenching together with need. “Are you joking?”
He shakes his head and squats down beside the tub, crossing his cuffed wrists on the edge and staring into my eyes. “This bath is just for you. As a thank you for two of the best weeks of my life.”
His words make my heart skip a beat as he gazes at me with so much sincerity, I have to believe him. I have to believe that he’s telling me ordinary nights in my flat were the best of his life. Who is this man?
“Are you free tomorrow?” he asks.
I huff out a laugh at the massive change of topic. “Um, I’d have to check my diary.”
He chuckles at my frustrated eye-roll. “Good. Because I’m taking you out on a date.”
“What kind of date?” I ask, hoping he’s going to say the kind of date that ends with sex because, even though his words are full of romance, I’m one hundred percent ready for more than talk.
He gives me a wicked smile like he can read my mind. “The kind that allows us to take things to the next level. No countdown. No suicide talk. No painful past stuff. Just a date. A single, solitary, and somewhat boring date with dinner and a film. Will you come?”
My brows rise. “I sure hope so.”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to pay for that one.”
With a wink and a smile, he strides out, calling over his shoulder that he’ll pick me up at seven.
Sounds like I should have saved those oysters for tomorrow.
The next night, I’m positively buzzing with anticipation. I have my main mutt, Bruce, standing guard at my door, watching me with sad puppy-dog eyes that probably resemble what mine looked like in the tub last night after Hayden left.
I’m dressed in a simple black and white striped, short-sleeved, cotton dress. It’s rather modest, aside from the shorter length, but I paired it with my favourite white Converse to give it a more casual appearance. Keeping to the theme, I left my blonde hair loose down my back, adding a bit of soft curls to the ends, and my makeup is light and elegant.
I turn to Bruce. “How do I look?” I ask, tossing my hands out to show off my outfit. He huffs and drops his head down on his pillow. I took him on a good long walk after work today, so he’s properly knackered now. “Much help you are,” I grumble.
Just as I finish tying my laces, my buzzer goes off. I jog over and breathe, “Hiya,” into the monitor like a smiling loon.
“Vi, let us up! We have to talk to you.”
I frown. “Camden?”
“Of course it’s fucking Camden…and Tanner. Who else would it be?”
My heart drops. Hayden should be here soon, and the last thing I need is for him to get a glimpse of the Harris Brothers. He’s so not ready for that.
Panicking that Hayden could be walking up at any moment, I buzz them up. Shit, shit, shit! How am I going to get rid of them? What the hell do they need? As the lift doors open, my two owly brothers are standing face-to-face, arguing as usual. They are kind of a hilarious sight. One is a clean-cut, playboy-looking type. The other is a scruffier slacker-boy. But their faces are similar, so it’s quite comical.
“That is your perception of how the night went. You are off your bloody rocker, bro,” Tanner challenges.
“I’m about to fucking pummel you in the face if you don’t watch your tone.” A vein in Camden’s neck bulges angrily.
“Oi, oi, oi! What’s the problem here?” I stand with my hands on my hips, greeting them in the foyer. I don’t want them coming in and making themselves comfortable. This is a quick fix and then I’m sending them on their way.
Tanner looks at me and flicks his head back to get his blonde hair out of his eyes. “Here’s what happened, Vi. We were at a club last night, right? And all these little slappers were flocking on us like flies on shit.”
“Tanner!” I snap.
“What?” he asks, looking at me in confusion.
“First of all, you’re disgusting. Second of all, women, not little slappers. They are females who deserve your respect. I don’t care how loose they are,” I reprimand.
“All right, all right. Women,” he groans with his jaw jutted out defiantly. “Hell, they could’ve been Kate fucking Middleton for all I care. Anyway, this gorgeous redhead was on me. Like, super on me. I was thinking, ‘I got this in the bag.’”
My eyes close in pain over where I see this story going.
“And I was about to seal the deal, but I had to nip off to the loo because I’d been drinking a lot and needed to piss. But before I left, I suddenly got nervous because I could tell Camden was sniffin’ about.”
“I wasn’t sniffin’ about! Your slapper—woman”—Camden corrects when I cut my eyes at him—“was eyeing me like she could see my package through my trousers. I can’t help that, bro! She liked what she saw.”
Tanner rolls his eyes and continues. “Anyway, I could see Camden had ideas, so I thought bacon sandwich, right?”
“Bacon sandwich?” I ask, my brows puzzling.
“Yeah, like, lick my bacon sandwich and then it’s mine and no one can touch it.”
My jaw drops. “Is the bacon sandwich the woman in this story?”
“All right, you got it now!” Tanner crows proudly. “So I leaned in and gave my bacon sandwich a good lick. She liked it, too, let me tell you. You can always tell when the flavour suits them. She was into my flavour, Vi. So I nipped off to the toilet, and when I got back, Camden was all over her. Like, they were practically having sex on the couch. His tongue was so far down her throat I thought she was going to need resuscitating!”
“I took her breath away, all right,” Camden jeers with a naughty twinkle in his eyes. I stare at him, clearly not impressed.
“Fucking wanker,” Tanner mumbles. “He was wrong, right, Vi? I mean. Bacon Sandwich Rule…Clearly he was wrong!”
“All is fair in love and redheads, mate.” Camden pats Tanner on the shoulder, and Tanner swings back and shoves him away from him. It only makes Camden laugh harder.
Sighing heavily, I close my eyes shut before I say, “I am not even sure where to begin with this ridiculous story and your appalling behaviour. For starters, Bacon Sandwich Rule…Not a thing!”
“What do you mean?” Tanner barks.
“I mean, that is not a thing. If you’re talking about humans, then the bacon sandwich idea is horrifying on many levels. Moreover, Camden, get your own girls and stop interfering with Tanner just to get a rise out of him.”
“I can’t help it if—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“They don’t like you better. You’re just a pig. You’re both pigs. You both need to stop looking at women like conquests and start treating them with respect. If I was that redhead and a couple of horrid blokes like you two were talking about me like this, how would you feel?”
Both their faces drop.
“Exactly! Bugger!” I snap. “This disappoints me, like I taught you guys nothing growing up.”
“Vi, these women know what they’re getting from us. We don’t make them any promises,” Camden argues.
“I don’t care. I can’t hear any more of this. Seriously. You guys need to leave.” I push the button to my lift and it opens instantly. I point.
“But, Vi,” Tanner starts, his face crestfallen.
“No. You need to go. I’m so sad to hear you talk about women like this. I won’t forget it.”
“Vi, come off it,” Camden cajoles and tries to pull me under his arm, but I resist his embrace.
“Talk to me about your women troubles when you each find someone who makes you feel something north of your damn penises.”
My phone dings in my hand, and I see a text from Hayden that he’s on his way. I hustle my twin brothers out of my flat with their tails tucked properly between their legs. Good. Serves them right. I’m tired of them talking about women like they are candy to quarrel over.
I rush into the bathroom and give myself a final once-over. Then I grab my clutch and denim jacket and hop into the lift. As I descend, I can’t help but hope that my brothers someday find girls who make them feel giddy and excited like I feel right now.
I stride out to find a relaxed Hayden leaning against the opposite brick wall. I glance up and down the alley nervously and exhale when I see no sign of my brothers. My heart does a double beat as I look back at him and take in his muscled, denim clad leg tossed over the other. Hayden Clarke takes jeans to a whole new level. Every pair he wears is fitted and slim, but faded and masculine in all the right places. Today, the bottoms are cuffed, revealing really sexy leather boots. My eyes move up to find him in one of his half-buttoned, grey, blended shirts. It’s pulled tightly across his lean chest, and his sleeves are pushed up on his arms, revealing his manly blonde fuzz-covered forearms and the standard leather cuffs and watch that I hardly notice anymore.
“Fuck, Bunny,” Hayden groans under his breath, lustfully eyeing my legs. “Probably a good thing you didn’t play football.”
“And why is that?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip in defiance.
He shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve seen footballers’ legs. Why mess with perfection?”
I shake my head and accept his ridiculously cheesy compliment as he pulls me in for a sensual kiss.
“Miss me?” I ask, giggling as he tries to stop me from pulling away.
“You could say that.” His eyes are hooded as he bites his lower lip.
He sighs heavily and grabs my hand in his as we make our way over to Pizza East located in an old tea warehouse near my neighbourhood. I’ve been here a few times for takeaway. It’s got a cosy cavernous feel inside. Furthermore, the wood oven and comfort of the home-style foods they serve make it the perfect place for a relaxed evening out.
We order a couple of pizzas to split, and Hayden baulks when I ask for an Italian soda.
“You can get wine,” he mumbles, frustration radiating off his stiff posture.
“Oi! You need to start letting me make my own choices. I’m not that big of a drinker, Hayden.” I take the glass bottle of grape soda from the bloke behind the counter. “Can you get him one, too? He needs a bit of cheer. What kind do you want?”
Hayden frowns and grumbles, “Strawberry.”
I conceal my snicker as the man hands him the bottle of pink liquid. “Nice choice.”
Hayden sullenly takes a sip. “It’s bloody good, too.” A grin splits across his face and he winks at me. We both laugh and make our way to a cosy red booth by the wall covered with wood logs for the pizza oven.
“I noticed that you didn’t drink much at Club Shay, actually.” Hayden says after we settle into our seats.
I nod feeling slightly pleased that he was watching me so closely that night. I did everything in my power to not look at him and it obviously worked. “I like an occasional drink, but I prefer to keep my wits about me when I’m around a lot of people.”
Hayden narrows his eyes at me. “Did you have your wits about you when you were giving Ethan all that sodding attention?”
My jaw drops in mock indignation. “You’re one to talk. I seem to remember you receiving a proper snog from Julie!”
He flinches. “That was awkward. I only danced with her so I could keep an eye on you, but she pounced on me like a tiger in heat.”
I laugh at the visual imagery. “You were keeping an eye on me?” I shoot him a coy look.
“Bloody hell right I was,” he barks, knitting his brows at me. “You were killing me the whole night. Looking the way you looked. Christ. I didn’t think anything could top the white dress you wore the night of the gala, but red is definitely your colour.”
I giggle happily, his compliments blooming inside my heart.
“Then you barely looked at me after we got inside the club, never mind speaking to me,” Hayden adds with a growl. “It was fucking torture.”
“Well, you tortured me on my rooftop if you recall,” I rebound, still somewhat smarting over the number of times he tried to walk away from me.
He blanches, his face turning serious. “I know, Vi. The only thing I can say to that is that my feelings for you surprised me. I’m not sure I was ready for them. And you’re just so good, and kind, and pure. I was terrified of ruining you. I still am sometimes.”
I frown and shake my head defensively. “I’m not as perfect as you’re building me up to be in your head, Hayden. You want me to stop treating you like you’re fragile, andI want you to stop treating me like I’m Her Majesty the Queen. I’m far from it.” I laugh as I think of a way to prove my point. “I was the type of kid who played hide-and-seek and yelled to the seeker where I was hiding! Kids hated playing with me on the playground because I never played games the way everyone else did.”
He roars with laughter at my sudden lighthearted change of tone. Despite my urgency over breaking his twisted view of me, this reaction still pleases me, so I continue. “It’s true. I’m always going to be that person who never quite gets it all done perfectly. I might send a gift, but it won’t be wrapped. I might remember your birthday, but you probably won’t get a card. I might want to send out Christmas cards myself, but I just won’t ever get it done. I’m not crafty at all. Pinterest looks like prison to me. I’m probably going to over-bake the biscuits the one time of year when someone actually needs them for something. Even though I love cooking, I love picking up takeaway just as much. But I’ll probably call ahead and go to the wrong shop first. I’ll always be home late because I’m a horrible judge of time—”
“If you’re trying to put me off, you’re failing miserably, Vi,” Hayden interrupts. His brow is furrowed and there’s an oddly serious heaviness to his posture.
“Aren’t you listening?” I exclaim. “I’m a mess.”
He shakes his head and slides out of the booth to tuck himself in next to me. He rests one arm on the back of the seat and cups my cheek with his other hand. My eyes flutter closed as I become intoxicated by the overwhelming sawdust and shower scent that’s so deliciously Hayden.
A secretive grin plays on the corners of his mouth. “Everything you said sounds utterly charming, deliriously adorable, and, because it’s about you, sexy as fuck.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re hopeless.”
Without warning, he holds my face in place and presses his lips to mine. “I am hopelessly falling for you, Vi Harris.”
My chest shudders at his declaration. “Feeling’s mutual, Hayden Clarke,” I reply on a swoony sigh that would embarrass me if only I gave a shit right now. Bloody hell, Hayden wanting me more after unloading that lot is a turn-on of epic proportions.
After we devour our pizzas and more fizzy bubbles of Italian soda, we walk hand-in-hand to the cinema that sits only a couple of blocks away from my flat. Grabbing two seats in the far back row of the nearly empty cinema, we cuddle up, preparing for a simple movie-watching experience.
I’m not sure who started it or what atmospheric shift occurred, but somewhere along the way, things changed. Hayden’s grip on my hand shifted ever so slightly, and I knew instantly that he was no longer focusing on the flick.
I turn and our eyes connect in the dim, flickering theatre lights. Biting my lip, I get turned on watching his eyes on my mouth. A hunger, thick and rich, implodes inside of me when he releases my hand and moves his warm touch to my bare legs. I could scream with joy that there’s nobody sitting anywhere near us when I brazenly uncross my legs.
I’ve never been sexually promiscuous. Like, ever. I had never even seen the majority of the items at Leslie’s hen night party. I also never would have called myself an exhibitionist, but what’s happening to my body right now is not up for debate. It’s intense and heavy and I want it right the fuck now.
“Vi?” Hayden whispers my name in question, tickling my inner thighs.
I bite my lip and nod shamelessly as I shift down in my seat. I snatch my denim jacket off the chair next to me and toss it over my lap to conceal the place that his hand is currently en dangerous route to. Definitely a place I wouldn’t normally have opened for visitors in the middle of a public theatre, but fuck. This is Hayden we’re talking about.
I drop my head back on the chair and turn to him to whisper in his ear. “I need you, Hayden. Right now.”
He clears his throat, and my inner thigh muscles clench with satisfaction from his blatantly ruffled feathers. He slides down in his seat a bit, too, allowing him better access, and resumes his travelling pursuit between my thighs. His fingertips are firm and slightly rough, only further intensifying all of my sensations. They finally reach my centre, and he begins stroking me through the flimsy fabric of my thong. I stifle a moan and grab his wrist aggressively just as he pinches my clit. He freezes and tenses, but I’m not worried about him right now. I maintain my ironclad grip on his leather cuff, doing my best to gain control over myself. Finally, when I think I can handle more without screaming out in ecstasy, I release his wrist and trail my fingers up his forearm, gliding them along the crook near his bicep.
Slowly, he slips one finger around the fabric and brushes against my bare slit. My teeth crush down on my lower lip so hard I can feel the bumpy muscle beneath the skin. I should feel embarrassed by how soaked I am already, but fuck. Everything he does to me feels so good. All I can feel in this moment is excitement. Excitement from the naughtiness. Excitement from the location. Excitement from fucking Hayden.
Fucking Hayden.
“Christ, Vi,” he groans with a stiff, husky voice.
He plunges his finger as far as he can from this angle and, oh my God, does it feel incredible. I pump my hips like a wanton sex siren, calling him inside of me, aching for him to continue his quest. He honours my call. He pushes a second finger in me and I turn to bite down on his shoulder, overcome by the deliciousness of his touch. He pumps in and out in steady, purposeful swells. My breathing turns laboured and frenzied as he works me closer and closer to climax.
Desperate for something to do with my hands, I touch his huge, firm bulge concealed beneath the tight denim.
He grabs my wrist with his other hand. “There’s time for that later,” he croaks.
“I want you, Hayden,” I say, my eyes opening and landing on his, which were watching me with a sexy, thinly-veiled intensity that I feel everywhere. Oddly, tears prick my eyes from the powerful force being transferred between us right now.
Suddenly, my body distracts me from my emotions as his finger twists to a location that has me toppling over the edge. I throw my arm over my face and silently scream with wild, orgasmic conviction as I feel the climax reach every single inch of my body.
“We need to leave,” Hayden says, yanking his hand from between my legs. He snatches my jacket off my lap and covers himself while hauling me up from my seat. My legs feel like gelatin as I tug my dress down and he guides me through the darkened theatre toward the green exit sign.
My mind is in a complete fog, so I’m surprised when we step out of the theatre to see that it’s completely dark out. I lose track of time so easily with Hayden.
“Fuck,” he curses quietly, taking note of the pouring rain and glancing up and down the street for a cab.
“My flat is only two blocks, Hayden.”
“It’s raining,” he says to me, obviously agitated by the situation.
“So?” I say putting my hands on my hips, feeling a bit more of my strength return in the fresh and wet night air.
“You’re not fucking walking in the rain, Vi,” he growls in frustration, looking up and down the empty street again.
“Hayden,” I say in a warning tone, but he ignores me and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Hayden!” I exclaim, stamping my foot on the wet pavement in annoyance.
His eyes flash to my bare legs and a hardened look shutters over his face. “Bunny.”
I shake my head and begin walking backwards away from him. “We don’t have to walk…We can run!” I screech and turn, taking off in a dead sprint through the downpour.
“Vi!” Hayden shouts.
Excitement flies through me as I feel his approaching footsteps behind me. The rain clings to my dress as I grip my clutch firmly and continue running while squinting against the heavy pelts of water.
He catches up to me in seconds, glaring angrily at me in the rain. “You stubborn woman.” An odd smile spreads across his face as he tries to look mad but fails. There are those sexy crinkles again.
“It’s raining cats and dogs!” I bellow, throwing my hands out wide and smiling as if it’s just another Thursday.
He shakes his head in admonishment. “I thought you’d be faster, Bunny. You’re a Harris footballer’s daughter for Christ’s sake.”
My eyes narrow with a renewed sense of determination. I do my best to pick up the pace, but it seems useless. Hayden doesn’t even look like he’s trying. A giggle erupts from my mouth when I hear him chuckling at me.
We make it to my neighbourhood, passing the bustling Hookah Lounge, and round the corner down the alley to my flat. I fall backwards onto the brick wall beside my lift, completely drenched, and push the wet strands off my face. My chest heaves while my laughter dies down and I attempt to catch my breath. Hayden comes to a stop in front of me, propping his hands on his knees as I dig in my clutch for my keys. He watches me out of the corner of his eye. My hand freezes on my keys as our gazes lock through the sheet of rain separating us. A loud crack of thunder causes me to flinch and a huge burst of lightning illuminates the darkened alley, shedding a clear blue light on the true, unbelievable, and intensely gripping face of Hayden.
My breath is gone. Sucked straight from my lungs and slammed into my chest. Into my heart, like a lightning bolt. He slowly stands upright. Something simmering deep and hungry in the grey pools of his eyes makes me gasp.
He swallows hard and nods as he steps closer to me. “I want this,” his voice cracks as he trails the backs of his fingers from my cheek, to my breasts, to my belly, then to my hip. He yanks me into him so our bodies are flush against each other. With his forehead resting against mine, he whispers as if in pain, “I want you.”
I shake my head, confused by his sudden comments. It’s as if he was having an entire conversation with himself during our run here. Now he’s finally made up his mind and is putting it out into the universe for acknowledgement.
“I want you, too—” I start, but I am immediately silenced by his mouth on mine in a painful, biting, and frenzied kiss.
He shoves me up against the wall and grabs my legs so they wrap firmly around him. His hardened erection presses against me, and I cry out into his mouth as a desperate ache explodes inside of me. Fisting my hair in his hands, he holds my face just where he wants it to kiss me…and kiss me…and kiss me. God, he kisses me like a starved man who’s found the only item in the world that could ever satisfy him.
“Let me in, Vi,” he commands while dipping his head to nip along the edge of my jaw. “Let me up and let me in. Please.”
His request stings my eyes. I swear I could cry real, wet tears from his words. Everything south of my waist is screaming at me to let him in. But the one organ I’m most terrified of—the one I’m not sure he’s asking for—is the one cracking at his raw and guttural words.
He releases me and I shakily open the lift doors. The moment we step inside, we collide. He licks and sucks my neck and collar bone as I punch the button for the eleventh floor. As we begin our climb, he pulls my soaked dress up over my body, revealing my white, lacy bra and thong, both also soaked from the rain…and other things.
“Bunny,” he murmurs. He hunches over and grabs hold of my nipple with his mouth through the sheer fabric while aggressively caressing my other in his palm. Then he glides his hands down my hips and hisses as he slides his fingers beneath the edges of my thong.
The doors open suddenly and Bruce barrels in, pouncing on the back of Hayden. Hayden widens his stance to protect my nearly naked body from Bruce’s assault. Bugger!
Hayden chuckles and turns, telling me to hop up on his back.
Well, this is a first.
He carries my nearly naked butt, still wearing my soaked Converse, through my flat and into the kitchen. I tell him which cupboard the bones are in, and he grabs one and tosses it into the living room where Bruce tears after it.
Hayden continues to my room and closes the French doors on a besotted-looking Bruce with a bone hanging from his mouth. Sorry, buddy. I’ll make it up to you! Promise!
He releases me, slowly sliding me down his back and turning to face me. He smiles sweetly and kisses my lips, brushing my nose as he pulls away. The crinkles around his eyes return just before a look of nervousness takes hold. “We don’t have to, Vi. If you’re not ready, or if you think we shouldn’t.”
“What was it you said you’d do if I stamped my foot again?” I whisper into his ear and lightly trail my tongue along his lobe. It’s cold and wet from the rain, as is the thin shirt concealing his body. I’m normally not so sexually bold, but everything with Hayden is different.
Everything with Hayden is different.
He draws back and grins naughtily at me, revealing so much about his happiness in this moment. “There’s a lot I’d like to do about that little habit of yours.”
With a sense of needy determination, I grab the bottom of his soaked shirt and peel it up over his head. I feast my eyes on his firm build and place a row of soft kisses across his chest.
“Bunny, you don’t even know what you’re in for.”
“Bunn—” I start with a snarky reply in mind, but he promptly leans down and tosses me over his shoulder with a thrilling crack right on my bum. An excited yelp bursts from my mouth as I brace myself on his firm back.
“Don’t talk back, Bunny. I promise you’re going to enjoy this,” he groans as his hand grazes all the way up the back of my leg to my arse. He tugs at the strip of fabric between my legs. “Perhaps not as much as me.”
He flops me down on the bed, and the crushed velvet feels wildly sensual beneath my bare skin. I watch him as he reaches to his back pocket and pulls a condom from his wallet and tosses it on the bed. A fission of excitement pulses between my legs as he begins unbuckling his jeans. I’m pleased to see a pair of black boxer briefs this time. Still Calvin Klein. I must remember to write Mr. Klein a letter of appreciation.
Hayden crawls up on the bed and hooks his fingers on the edge of my knickers, pulling them down my legs. His eyes hood with arousal from seeing me bare for the first time. He continues inching his way up my body and finally reaches my face. Leaning down, he steals my lips for his own. They’re yours, Hayden. All fucking yours.
His fingers trail slowly down my side as goosebumps erupt on every surface of my skin. After removing my bra, he finds my pulsing, wet centre. I writhe beneath him as he continues to tickle me softly everywhere except the one damn place I want him the most.
I pull my mouth from his and moan, “Hayden, please!” I thrust my hips up greedily toward his hand and, without thinking, reach down and attempt to touch myself for some semblance of relief.
“No, no,” he chastises and then bites his lip. Whispering against my mouth, he says, “When I’m here, this is mine.” With that, he plunges his fingers deep inside of me.
My eyes slam shut as I cry out, relieved that the torture is over. “God,” I moan with wonton abandon. The foreplay from the cinema and then here is the most intense I’ve ever had. Every passionate encounter I’ve had with Hayden flashes before my eyes. The fighting, the spanking, the kitchen kisses, the striptease, the pussy tease. It’s all so…heady.
Hayden pulls his fingers out and flicks my swollen and drenched clit. I yelp in delirious agony as he quickly pushes up on his knees all the while tossing me over onto my belly in the same fluid motion. He leans over top of me, wraps my wet locks around his fist, and then uses his other hand to drop a swift slap to my bottom that I was already shamelessly pushing into the air toward him, ready and waiting.
Fuck, this is too much. I need him inside me right the bloody hell now.
“So fucking sexy,” he moans, affectionately stroking the area he swatted. He releases my hair and grips my hips, positioning me so I’m up on my knees, but my chest is still resting on the bed.
I hear him rustling with the condom wrapper, so I look over my shoulder to watch just as he pushes his briefs down. His penis is exactly as I pictured. It’s thick and pulsing, clearly showcasing every bit of hard desire he’s got for me.
He rolls the condom on and looks down at me with lust deep in his eyes. “You ready?” A half-grin teases the corner of his mouth.
I nod and bite my lip, and he surges himself inside me with one swift push. I’m already soaked, so there is very little resistance, aside from the tightness, as he fills me completely.
“Hayden,” I nearly scream, looking out the window and thanking fuck this is my life right now. God, it’s been too long since I’ve been properly shagged.
“Vi,” he groans, pushing and pulling himself in and out of my channel in slow, long strokes. “Vi, I want to try so many things with you and your hot fucking arse. But tonight…Christ, tonight I’m just going to give it to you fast and hard and hope to fuck you’re okay with that because I’m not sure I can manage it any other way.”
“Sounds like the best thing you’ve said all night,” I shamelessly admit, my mouth muffled against the duvet as I feel my impending climb to release approaching already.
And that’s exactly what he does. He slams into me for who knows how long because time ceases to exist when Hayden Clarke is inside of me. I am suspended in the time and space continuum, floating and completely oblivious to the number of seconds that tick from present to future.
Completely oblivious to the number of seconds it takes my body to slam into a roaring climax.
Completely oblivious to the number of seconds I scream out his name in utterly blissful pleasure.
Completely oblivious to the number of seconds that it takes me to fall for the brooding, broken, complicated, demanding, and sexy as fuck Hayden Clarke.