3. Graham
CHAPTER 3
graham
Pulling into the Whispering Pines Lodge, I’m slightly nervous to meet my date for the night. It’s been more than a minute since I’ve been on one and even longer since I’ve had a hookup. But, Liam was right, I need to get my needs met. I’ve been so consumed with living for everyone but myself that I haven’t prioritized my own needs—intimate connection being one of them.
Basically, I’m horny as fuck, and it’s only gotten more intense and noticeable since Hailey moved in. An image of her and Mila dancing together in the kitchen when I got home today flashes through my mind. I stood in the entryway of the kitchen for minutes watching them, both girls lost in the little world they’ve created for just the two of them. The stereo was thumping “Party Rock Anthem” while they held their hands in the air and jumped around. Hailey was wearing a pair of loose athletic shorts, the bottom of her perky, fine ass peeking out of the bottom as she shimmied and shook.
Clearing my mind of the image, I get my head in the game, hoping like hell I hit it off with this woman and we both can have some enjoyment from the evening.
I pull up the app and open the chat, going over our text messages from last night one last time.
WhiskeyDad: Whispering Pines Lodge, 8pm, I’ll meet you in the bar. Sound good?
MakeMeYours: That’s perfect.
WhiskeyDad: How will I know it’s you?
MakeMeYours: I’ll wear something pink
WhiskeyDad: I’m looking forward to taking it off of you
Walking into the hotel, I try not to allow the feelings of unease and sleaziness to wash over me. It’s just a date, and who gives a shit if we use the hotel room I’ve booked to hook up in after. I get all checked in, the hotel room key weighing heavily in my pants pocket, and wander to the bar.
The place is a dead zone, except for a petite blonde sitting at the bar with her back to me. Her hair is worn in a familiar bob, the tiny script of a tattoo I’ve noticed on more than one occasion on the back of her neck confirming that my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. I take a few measured steps in her direction, moving into her line of sight.
“Hailey?” I ask in pure shock. “What are you doing here?”
She looks up at me, her whiskey on the rocks halfway to her lips. She pauses, setting it back down on the bar with a shaky hand. Her makeup is done differently, more smoky and sultry than usual, making this already sexy woman that much more alluring.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she states as if I should know.
I wait for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. Looking around the empty hotel bar, then back to the woman sitting in front of me, it hits me like a freight train. She’s wearing pink.
No. There’s no fucking way.
“Hailey . . .”
She finally stands from where she’s perched on the leather barstool, putting her a solid six inches from me. She’s a short little thing, even in heels she only comes up to my chin. Her blonde hair dances around her face as she moves, the loose curls framing her like a damn halo. The bright swirl whiskey of her eyes sparkles in mischief, as the fluorescent bar top light hits them just right. Goddamn, she’s stunning, but explicitly off-limits.
Her rose-pink dress hugs her breasts perfectly, grazing over her hips and stopping mid-thigh. Her long legs are lifted and taut due to the high platform wedges she’s wearing. My dick strains behind my pants at the sight of her, growing harder by the second.
“Problem?” her voice nearly singsongs. She’s so sweet, so full of life, so sexy . . . off-limits, goddamnit, she’s off-limits. I say the reminder in my head like a sick and twisted mantra. It should be a no-brainer. Walk out that fucking door, Graham. She’s your nanny. Your best friend’s daughter.
Her body is mouthwatering though—those feminine curves, long legs, and a sexy, fierce confidence that girls her age carry. At twenty-two, she’s still way too goddamn young for me and it would fuck everything up in my life like an atomic bomb being dropped in the center of it.
Grabbing her by the elbow, my fingertips buzzing with uncontrolled excitement at the contact, I gently lead her to a small booth at the back of the bar. Not that anyone is here—this place is barren except for us and the bartender who’s occupied on his phone. But that could all change at any moment. And the last thing I need is to be seen at a hotel bar—of all places—with my best friend’s daughter.
“You’ve got some explaining to do, unless I am way off base, which I hope to fuck I am, so please, explain what you’re doing here, Hails.”
Surprisingly, my rough, clipped tone doesn’t make her falter, and she sits in the booth across from me, shoulders held back, chin held high. She takes a deep breath before speaking, the inhale causing the swell of her breasts to rise above the plunging neckline of her dress. Jesus fucking Christ. My dick reminds me of its presence by bucking behind my jeans. Doesn’t he understand how wrong this would be?
“You swiped right, Graham.”
My name on her lips goes straight to my straining, persistent cock, making him jerk again. She says the sentence like it’s the most obvious answer, and I guess she’s right in her facts, but, Jesus Christ, I had no idea it was Hailey .
My mind flicks back to the sexy body in the profile photo, her perky tits lifted high in the baby blue bra, her flat, unmarred tummy pierced with a barbell that made my mouth water, the barely there matching panties that just covered the pussy between her legs. I’m going to fucking hell. That was Hailey ?
“Jesus, Hailey, I didn’t know that was you.” I don’t recognize my own voice, deep and husky, picturing exactly what she looks like under that dress she’s wearing across from me. The one I was supposed to be stripping my date of tonight. “I never would have agreed to this if I had known it were you.” Then it dawns on me. My profile picture is a photo of me at the distillery. My shoulders sink and my face falls. “But . . . you knew it was me . . .” The words taste like ash on my tongue as the weight of them sinks in. She fucking knew. And she came anyway.
“Because I want you.”
A deep exhale releases from my lungs as I run my hand over my face in shock. Hailey wants me? She’s a sexy young woman—not that I’m old by any stretch of the imagination—she could have anyone she wants. But she’s my best friend’s daughter, my daughter’s nanny, this is a line I can’t cross. I can’t allow myself to jeopardize those relationships to get my dick wet, no matter how badly I’d love to bend her over the table right here and fuck her for all to see.
My body vibrates with nervous anticipation. Fuck, this is so wrong. So very, very wrong. But fuck if I don’t want her.
“Hailey, I’m flattered, but this isn’t something that can happen, there’s too many issues with it. I’m close with your dad, and Jay would beat my ass, and you’re so amazing with Mila, you’ve made my life easier and happier, and Mila loves you so much.”
I’ve known her dad, Jay, since I was a dumbass teenager working grunt work at the distillery and he was running deliveries for Bean Haven. He’s more than a few years older than me, but you’d never tell. He’s the big brother I never had, and we’ve seen each other through some dark times.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, those whiskey eyes never leaving mine. “Thank you for saying that last part, I just want to help, I really enjoy taking care of you both, Graham.”
I release a sigh at her words, relaxing slightly. She gets it and is letting me turn her down as delicately as possible. We can come back from this and move forward. Nothing has been damaged beyond repair.
Her hand inches across the table and gently caresses the top of mine, the soft skin of her fingers easily gliding over the back of my large hand, tracing the veins there.
“So, let me continue to take care of you. In every way .”
Jesus Christ.
My cock grows impossibly thick, borderline painful, as I stare down at where our hands are connected, her fingers rubbing aimlessly over the top of mine. It shouldn’t be erotic, but it’s sending all the right signals through my body.
Hailey pulls away too soon, or not soon enough, my mind occupied with how to handle this situation, my head and my cock in a battle for total control, when Hailey is sliding into the booth with me, our backs to the bar and shielded from anyone who could walk in. She smells like the sweetest fruit, and my mouth salivates.
Walk away, Graham. Walk away. Right. Fucking. Now.
I turn to face Hailey, her pretty blonde hair dancing above her shoulders, pouty pink lips pursed—waiting. As if my hand has a mind of its own, I run the back of my fingertips over the dainty features of her face, her head tilting into my touch, eyes fluttering closed in such a sensual way that my heart trips over itself. Jesus fuck, she’s so delicate, so soft, her mouth so close to mine.
She’s off-limits, Graham.
I curl my hand into her hair, my fingers rubbing softly at her scalp, my breathing picking up, the excitement and thrill of touching this woman overriding my brain. Fuck, she’s so damn beautiful. And she wants me . Lord knows she’s all I’ve fantasized about lately.
My heart beats so hard in my chest that I can feel it between my ears, my restraint fracturing as I struggle to hold on. Hailey’s shaky hand moves to my thigh, her long nails scratching over the fabric that’s pulled tight across the thick muscle. Her eyes bounce between mine, those whiskey irises giving away more than she wants—confidence that has splintered slightly, but so tenacious, so firm in what she wants right now. Goddamnit to hell, I want this woman.
“Don’t stop, Graham,” she practically purrs the words.
A growl rises up in my chest.
“Fuck, when you say my name like that, honey, it messes with my head.”
“Then don’t stop, don’t run off, take me. Make me yours tonight.”
All my restraint snaps. Fuck the consequences. Tilting her head back, I meet those pretty whiskey eyes for a moment before I glance down at the plush pillows of her lips, just as her tongue peeks out and swipes across them.
I don’t wait another moment, dropping my head down, letting my lips hover a fraction of an inch from hers, and meeting her eyes again. Instead of waiting for me to erase the space between us, Hailey sticks her tongue back out, licking across the seam of my lips in an erotic display of how badly she wants this and how willing she is to go for it.
She pulls back slightly, my tongue following the trail she left behind, tasting the rich whiskey she’s been sipping on.
My favorite flavor.
“My room or yours, Graham?”