Hayes #2
Normally, I’m up before sunrise, so not having curtains has always been an aesthetic thing.
Now I’m rethinking my design choices. I must have overslept, likely due to having Paige’s warmth curled against me in my bed where I tucked her in last night.
I couldn’t go to the guest room after what we went through.
That would have been too far away. I reach for Paige now, wanting to pull her right back into my arms, but all I get is a handful of cool sheets.
I sit up, my eyes opening wide. “Paige?” I call.
I look around the room and notice Cerberus is gone, too, so at least he’s being a good demon spawn shadow, wherever she is.
Still, my heart jackhammers away in my chest when she doesn’t reply.
I’m out of bed and pounding down the stairs in a sprint as my mind delivers every fucked-up scenario it can to explain her absence.
“Hi,” she says, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee when I skid into the kitchen.
She leans against the counter wearing my old Vanderbilt T-shirt, her hair messy and rumpled, with Cerberus at her bare feet. It’s the most beautiful image my brain can comprehend after the panic that flashed every worst-case possibility through my mind.
My eyes close and my lungs exhale a great breath I must have been holding.
“Fucking scared me, baby. I didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m sorry I scared you. I thought coffee would help with this awful headache I have. Here, I poured you a cup, too, but I don’t know how you take it, so it’s still black.” She holds out a second mug to me.
I gladly take it. Caffeine sounds excellent. I palm the back of her head to bring her to me to kiss her forehead good and long.
“Thank you.”
She tips her chin up and catches my lips with hers.
“That was a rough night.”
“Let’s not repeat that. Ever.” Or anything remotely close, I tack on silently.
I catch sight of dozens of wilted red roses and the bottle of bourbon abandoned on the island from last night. I push her chin with a finger in the direction of the floral carnage.
“That was for you.”
She laughs. “I know. They’re still pretty. I can probably nurse them back to health if you have a vase big enough for me to get them in water.” She pauses and looks at me. “You think you got enough roses?”
I shrug. “It was a just because I was thinking about you gift, and I wanted you to know I was thinking about you lots.”
“Hayes Olsen, you’re sweet on me,” she teases, pressing her fingertips against my bare chest and batting her eyelashes at me.
“Try crazy about you,” I reply, serious as a heart attack.
Her teasing look softens, and she smiles.
“Is this fast? I’m not too sure how feelings with relationships work, but this feels pretty fast and dirty.”
“Do you want it to be fast and dirty?”
I’m invested in her answer, hoping we’re on the same page.
That thought surprises me. I started the week with ulterior motives that benefited me at her expense when it came to having Paige in my life, but she’s hard to resist. Her sweet innocence is addictive, and taking my time getting physical with her has made it, dare I even say it, better?
I know the moment she lets me sink inside of her will absolutely be worth the wait.
She’s taught me a lesson on delayed gratification and the strength of my own willpower that’s worth its weight in gold alone.
Not to mention, the valuable knowledge that there are some things in life more important than personal or professional gain.
“Right now, I just want you. I don’t care if it’s fast or slow. I’m not exactly a relationship expert, but… I do think this is special, even if it wasn’t supposed to happen, and fate had other plans.”
“You think the fates would have it so wrong that we weren’t supposed to happen? I call bullshit. We make our own fate. I’m good with the way this is working out.”
She smiles at me fondly. “Me, too.”
If I start thinking too hard about a future with her, I’m liable to go down a rabbit hole and then she will really know the meaning of fast. “You ready for some fancy dress shopping?” I ask to change the subject.
She shuts her eyes and shudders. “I guess so.”
I blink dumbly at her half-hearted reaction. “You’re not chomping at the bit to buy some crazy expensive dress and get all fancy?”
She shrugs a shoulder and it raises the hem of my favorite shirt, exposing more of her soft thighs that I want wrapped around my head. Or hips. “I’ve had to wear far too many crazy expensive dresses Mama picked out. I guess it’s just not as exciting because of that.”
“You’re saying you’ve never picked out your own dress?”
“Oh, I have, it’s just been under Mama’s direction, or straight up picked out for me when she didn’t approve of my choices.”
“That’s it.” I pat my pajama pants, then look around the kitchen for my phone to no avail. “You have your phone on you?”
She looks down quickly. “It broke last night. I dropped it when the police got to the restaurant. The screen is cracked, but it still works.”
She walks to the counter where her purse is and pulls out the phone, the screen shattered and ready to shred her pretty little fingers to ribbons the minute she tries to use it. That won’t fucking do.
“We’re stopping at the store for a new phone before we get you a dress of your choosing.”
She tries to protest, but I cut her off.
“I don’t care if that phone is usable. Every time you pick it up, you’re going to be thinking about last night, and that is psychological torture.” Not to mention physical, given the condition.
Her shoulders slump. “I think you’re right.” She brightens, her eyes flashing with humor. “What’s another receipt to add to my tab?” she says, pulling out a handful of paper from her purse. “It’ll feel so good to write you a fat check once my trust is active again.”
“Unacceptable,” I state. Her mouth drops open, but I continue. “I’ll rip up any check you try to write me. I don’t want you to pay me back for anything, ever, got it?”
“But—“
“But nothing, sweetheart. I told you I would take care of you, and that includes anything you could possibly want or need.”