31. Hayden
HAYDEN
The memory of carrying her is still burning through my system—the feel of Maeve’s body against me, the curve of her ass under my hand, the press of her thighs against my chest. And god, her scent filling my lungs had nearly driven me out of my mind.
I’d been glad when she demanded I put her down, because I’d needed the distance.
Picking her up had been a monumentally stupid move, because it meant every one of my senses was flooded with her.
The heat of her body, the smell of her skin, the way she felt pressed against me—it was all I could do not to find the nearest flat surface and show her exactly what she did to me.
My hands flex now that they’re empty. Maeve straightens herself out, smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair.
Damn whoever got that dress for her. It’s clearly too expensive for Maeve to have bought herself, which means either Ford—wanting his fake fiancée to look the part—or Gabriel, who can’t resist beautiful things.
Either way, I want to strangle them both. She looks far too tempting in it. The way the fabric hugs her curves, the hints of creamy skin it reveals… fuck.
Maeve is slightly disheveled, but she quickly puts herself back together. I have to admit, fury looks incredible on her. “What the hell was that about? What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I let out a harsh laugh. “I should be asking you that question. Didn’t realize you’d come here to pick up a date, Keller.”
Maeve’s eyes blaze with indignation. “I would never, fake-cheat on Ford. Ever. I would never make him look bad like that. And if you think I’m the type of person who would, then you’re even more of an asshole than I thought.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m the asshole? That guy out there was hitting on someone he had to know was already taken. He couldn’t have missed that rock on your finger.”
“He wasn’t—not really—he was just being—you know—” Maeve stammers. “Arrogant people like that, they say stuff like that all the time.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Like how the bike messengers who deliver our files trip over themselves to spend extra time talking to you and complimenting you? They’re all fighting for the chance to be near you, you realize that, right?
You think the mailman comes all the way up to our floor out of charity?
He used to just drop everything off in the lobby, but then you started working there.
You came in at the same time as him once—we were all in the elevator together—and suddenly the guy’s delivering straight to your desk every single day. ”
“That’s not—that’s not true.” She looks genuinely embarrassed.
It’s baffling to me. How the hell can she be embarrassed that people want her? “Are you seriously telling me it’s news to you that men find you attractive? Keller, come on. You’re a smart woman.”
“And you’re clearly insane.”
I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “How a woman as gorgeous as you can be so oblivious to it is beyond me.” I stare at her, trying to make her understand. “How can you truly not know the effect you have on people?”
“I’m not trying to have any effect,” she stammers. “I was just being polite and putting up with him, you know? I just try to be nice to people. Everyone deserves basic kindness.”
“That server at dinner our first night here—he was interested. I’m not imagining things, Keller. You’re just blind to it.”
“Well, I’m not doing it on purpose! I didn’t want the server, or Richard or Robert or whatever his name was—I don’t want any of those men!”
“Are you sure? Because that’s not how it looked to me.”
I’m pushing her now, and I know it. Maeve is honorable—I know she wouldn’t make Ford look bad. But I need her to prove it. I know it’s stupid, know I’m out of control, but I can’t stop myself. I want her to tell me it means nothing. I want her to tell me she doesn’t want any other man.
What I really want is for her to say she wants me. But that’s never going to happen. I’ve kept her at arm’s length with my terrible behavior for two years, and for good reason. But it means I’ve made sure she’ll never crave me the way I crave her.
Maeve’s eyes flash with anger. “And what does it matter to you whether I flirt with someone or not? Hmm? It’s none of your business.
You’re not my fake fiancé. You’re not even my boss anymore.
And even if you were, it wouldn’t give you the right to interfere with my personal life.
You have no right to have an opinion about this.
You’re so frustrating and arrogant and stubborn. You’re?—”
She cuts herself off, clenching her jaw.
“Go on,” I say quietly, stepping closer. “Say it. What am I?”
Maeve’s gaze meets mine, and I swear I can feel electricity crackling between us.
“You’re…” She trails off, swallowing hard.
Nothing. I can practically hear her saying it. You’re nothing to me. And that’s exactly what I am to her. I’ve made damn sure of it.
Something inside me snaps.
Before I can think better of it, before the rational part of my brain can take control, I stride toward her and pull her roughly against me.
Then I kiss her.
Heat explodes between us like a match hitting gasoline. She gasps against my lips, her body going rigid with shock for just a heartbeat. Then I sweep my tongue into her mouth, and she moans, kissing me back with a hunger that matches my own.
The rational part of my brain tries to reassert itself, telling me I shouldn’t be doing this, that this crosses every line we’ve maintained for two years.
Then she grinds herself against my straining cock.
There’s no going back now.
Her kiss is everything I’ve been craving for days, weeks, months—sweet and demanding and perfectly her. She tastes like champagne and something uniquely Maeve, her scent wrapping around me, and I want to drown in every sensation.
I end up pressing her back against the door, the solid wood shuddering under the force of our desperation.
My hands roam up and down her curves, gripping and exploring, learning the geography of her body through the fabric of her dress.
She’s so warm, so soft, and every curve fits perfectly in my palms, just like I’ve fantasized about on the nights when I’ve stroked my cock to thoughts of her.
“You taste so fucking good,” I growl against her mouth. “Just like I always imagined.”
She moans my name, the sound vibrating against my lips and shooting straight to my cock. “Hayden,” she breathes, and the way she says it—like a prayer, like a plea—tells me she needs this just as much as I do.
My cock, already hard from our confrontation, strains painfully against my pants. I press against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me, and she arches into me with a soft whimper that makes me growl.
“Did you like driving me crazy all night?” I bring my hand up to cup her jaw, staring down into her flushed face. With my other hand, I wrap my fingers around the silky strands of her hair, tugging lightly. “Walking around in this dress, showing off all this gorgeous skin, just to get to me.”
She lifts her chin, some of her natural sass returning despite her obvious arousal. “Maybe I was just trying to look nice for your friends’ family.”
The defiance in her voice makes my blood burn hotter. I grip her hair tighter, just enough to make her gasp, then tilt her head back so she has to meet my gaze.
“Keep talking back to me like that,” I tell her, my voice rough. “Give me a reason to do what I’ve been dying to do ever since you first walked into the Meridian office.”
“What’s that?” she whispers, but I can see the hunger in her eyes, the way her pulse hammers against the delicate skin of her throat. She knows exactly what I want to do to her.
I lean down so my lips brush her ear, her skin burning against mine. “Bend you over and fuck the brat right out of you.”
Her pupils dilate until they nearly overtake the green of her irises.
She’s turned on by the promise of roughness, of being claimed. The knowledge sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me. I suspected she would be, sensed that she was built for this kind of pleasure, but having it confirmed is so much better than any fantasy.
She licks her lips, then gives me exactly what I’m looking for. “You think you can handle me?”
I growl, the sound rumbling deep in my chest, and haul her away from the door. “We’re about to find out.”
I devour her mouth as I carry her over to the velvet chaise lounge in the corner of the room.
Her legs wrap around my waist, and the heat of her body against mine is almost too much.
I have to grit my teeth to maintain what little control I have left.
Part of me wants to make this last, wants to savor every second, but there’s another part of me that just wants to fuck her like an animal.
I set her down on the plush cushions and start kissing my way down her neck and chest. Her skin is flushed and heated, and she tastes like honey with the slightest hint of salt when I drag my tongue across her collarbone. She shivers beneath me, her hands fisting in my hair.
“God, you smell incredible,” I murmur against her throat, breathing in the intoxicating mix of her perfume and arousal. “I’ve been imagining this for so long. Going to make it count.”
Then I drop to my knees and push her dress up around her waist.
The sight of her spread out before me like a feast makes my mouth water. Her thighs are trembling with anticipation, and I can see the damp spot on her panties that tells me exactly how much she wants this.
I inhale deeply, letting her scent fill my lungs. “Fuck, baby. You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”
She doesn’t answer with words, just a needy whimper that’s all the confirmation I need. I peel her panties off slowly, savoring the way she lifts her hips to help me. The delicate lace is soaked with her arousal, and I toss them aside before settling between her thighs.
The first swipe of my tongue over her clit makes her arch off the chaise with a cry that goes straight to my aching cock. She’s so sweet, like honey and vanilla.
“Oh god, Hayden.” Her hands fist in my hair hard enough to sting.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her lips, “so fucking good for me.”
I keep up the praise and dirty talk against her flesh, moaning into her pussy as I devour her.
She’s so turned on that every flick of my tongue makes her hips buck and her breath hitch, and I have to hold her down to keep her still.
I could do this for hours, licking and sucking and flicking my tongue against her, but she has other ideas.
“You promised to fuck the brat out of me,” she pants. “This isn’t that.”
I chuckle roughly against her, the vibrations of the sound making her shudder.
“Greedy and impatient.” I flick my eyes up to hers, pulling back to look at her, my lips wet. Her pussy is pink and swollen, glistening with my saliva and her arousal. “Look at how wet you are for me. But you could be even wetter.”
I run my thumb through her folds, gathering her slickness, and she whimpers at the contact. Then I lean forward and spit directly onto her clit, watching her eyes roll back at the filthy gesture.
“You’re gonna need all the help you can get to take me,” I rasp.