Chapter 7
Hayes
Afleck of sunlight peeks through the heavy drapes blanketing the hotel windows.
She passed out shortly after I assisted her in cleaning up and somewhere around four in the morning, she rolled over and nuzzled into me until her face landed on my chest. Her leg followed, not long after, and her knee is now uncomfortably close to my junk.
I’m also pretty sure she’s drooling on me.
I, on the other hand, haven’t slept a wink. This wasn’t the plan. All I wanted was to drown my sorrows in expensive–and delicious–bourbon. Instead, I ended up drowning in perfect pixie pussy.
I guess a distraction is a distraction.
For a little while, I didn’t think of her. The one that got away. The one that apparently doesn’t know how to sign divorce papers. Fuck. How am I still fucking married after all these years?
My eyes close in a final and lame attempt to sleep, but when I see the beginning of what I already know is red hair begin to take its usual place on the backs of my eyelids, I jolt them back open.
Nope.
The sudden shift of my body causes sleeping beauty to stir and I adjust my vision to consider her. I get the sense she’s dealing with her own demons and I was merely a means of exorcising them.
I hope she was luckier on that front than I was.
A whispered groan escapes her lips as she stretches her arm completely across my chest, allowing her fingers to graze my skin along the way. It sends the slightest of shivers down my spine. She better be careful or my dick will wake up and I’ll be forced to wake her up with another round.
I wish I knew why I’m even trying not to wake her, though. I do what I do with women, provide a little aftercare if needed and then they go on their way. There’s no napping or post-coital sleepovers. Ever. Period. End of story.
So why is this woman still here, warming my side like she was made for this very spot?
I guess it doesn’t matter.
This changes nothing.
I’m not made for more than casual.
She shifts again, sliding her hand farther down my torso until her palm lands directly on my cock.
Shit.
Before I can move it, she jumps to her knees in one swift movement, pulling her cheek from my chest and leaving a heavy pool and thick string of saliva in her wake.
My brow cocks as I watch her come to the realization that her brain reacted before it could tell her to move her hand that’s still on my hardening shaft.
Her eyes are still closed and her brunette hair is matted to her face on one side and a mess of knots and tangles on the other side. My lips turn up into a smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so wildly adorable in my life.
Things are going to get considerably less adorable very soon if she doesn’t move her hand, though.
When her eyes finally make an appearance, she pulls her hand away, holding it tightly to her chest like my cock’s going to fucking bite her.
“Weren’t all that worried about it biting you last night, Little Pixie.”
She raises an index finger. “Fuck. Hold on, one second.” Then proceeds to bend all the way over the side of the bed and rustle through her things.
I hear the faint sound of tapping for a moment before she pops back up.
“Sorry, I had to text CeCe. I left her in the room alone last night and she’s probably called the police and has a search party out looking for me by now. ”
“Did you not tell her where you were going?”
“I didn’t exactly. No.” She pauses. “I’ve been dealing with something.”
“You and me both.” I respond dryly.
When her eyes catch the still wet pool of drool on my chest, she gasps. “Oh no. Is that my fault?”
I could take this opportunity to toy with her, but I think better of it. “I’d like to think it’s actually my fault because I fucked you so good, you couldn’t even keep your secretions to yourself.”
She winces at my brazenness. “We fucked.”
“Well, I did most of the fucking actually, but you did do so well for me. I’ll give you that.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“If we’re going to exchange names, you have to let me take you to breakfast.” What the actual fuck are you doing, Hayes?
I can see the decision formulating in her brain while she chews that lip of hers that I would very much like to bite. A few seconds later, she’s offering her hand to me. “Demi.”
I give her small hand a quick shake in return. “Hayes.”
Demi
I’ve been standing outside his room for far too long and I have no idea why. I just went to my room to prove to CeCe I was still alive and unmaimed, shower and then come back. He’s expecting me, so why can’t I knock? What is my fucking problem?
The door swings open, breaking me from my silent meltdown and I glance up to see those baby blues I can’t seem to get out of my fucking head.
“How long were you planning on standing there before you knocked?” he–Hayes says in what I’m now sure is not just a charming tone he uses to get laid. It’s… just his voice.
Wait a minute. I cross my arms and raise an accusatory eyebrow. “How did you know I was standing out here?”
The jerk literally fucking chuckles at me.
“Did I forget to tell you I have psychic powers?”
What is it with this guy? He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met.
He’s got charm seeping from his pores. He smells like sin and sexy spice.
Oh, and he also has the distinction of being the only man to have ever been inside me.
He really knows what he’s doing with the third leg he’s carrying around, I’ll give him that.
Doesn’t that thing hurt his back? How does it not hurt to walk?
It hurts me to walk and it’s not even there anymore.
I have to get my shit together with this guy. Keep my wits about me. As my best friend reminded me so sweetly, just a few minutes ago, I’m still grieving my ex and the last thing I need is to attach myself to another person when I’m not even over her yet. Besides… he’s not my type.
“Someone’s having morning-after regret. I’d recognize that look anywhere.” His face is marred with a touch of concern as he regards me.
“N-no. I don’t regret what happened,” I reassure him. “I wanted it.”
“So what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, then?”
“Can we talk about it when we get to wherever we’re going?”
He nods and reaches for my hand. I know I shouldn’t, but I give it to him and we make our way, in silence, out of the hotel and a block and a half down the street to some hole-in-the-wall diner that looks like it’s been here for twenty years.
He walks in like he owns the place, tugging me behind him until we’re at the farthest booth from the door. He nudges me to scoot into one side of the booth and then–to my surprise–he slides in next to me. I wish it didn’t, but his proximity makes my head spin.
“Hayes,” the waitress announces, stepping up and unceremoniously dropping two menus against the dingy white tabletop. “It’s been a while. What brings you to this side of town? This is early. Even for you.”
“Dolores,” Hayes coos back, both of his hands landing on his heart. “Sounds like you missed me.”
“For making me wait so long to see that pretty face of yours, I should make you get your own damn coffee.”
“Now, now, Dolores. You wouldn’t dare. You know I’m terrible at it. What’s it going to take, huh? Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
My vision bounces back and forth between the two. Whatever it is, I’m so confused. This woman has to be at least old enough to be his mother, or older.
“Don’t be gross, Hayes. You’re like a son to me.” She huffs a laugh before addressing me. “What can I get for you, young lady?”
“Oh, um… coffee is fine. Thank you, Ma’am.”
“You got it.” She winks at me before turning and heading back from where she came.
My gaze lands on Hayes again. “You come here a lot?”
“Not really. Not anymore.” He pauses. “I came here a lot growing up. The past five years or so, I’ve come a lot less. Work keeps me pretty busy.”
“She seems nice,” I say, nodding to Dolores across the counter as she flits about getting our coffees.
“She’s the only person I know that knew my mother. That’s probably why I always come back.”
The fact that he used the word knew tells me all I need to know. His mother is no longer living. I want to ask him about her. About what happened, but it hardly seems relevant considering we hardly know each other.
“Why did you choose to bring me here?”
Dolores interrupts, coffee in hand and we both order. Eggs, over medium with all the meat for Hayes. Chocolate chip pancakes for me.
“Considering what you just ordered, I should probably take the opportunity to ask how old you are? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone older than the age of maybe twelve order chocolate chip pancakes.”
I allow my hand to fly up and slap his arm, letting it linger there for just a moment. Jesus, he really is ripped. “I’ll have you know, I’m twenty-eight and chocolate chips are a perfectly acceptable treat at any age. What kind of fucking monster doesn’t eat them in pancakes… as an adult?”
There’s that laugh of his again. I really have to keep my shit together.
He avoids answering the question and raises his hands in defeat. “Okay, you got me there.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“We should talk about last night,” he states, his tone lowered and more serious.
I pull a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I suppose we should. Which one of us is going to start?”
He shoots me a smug smirk. Okay fine. “I guess I’ll start. I meant what I said when I said you’re not my type.”
“I didn’t doubt you, you know,” he interrupts.
“No, you don’t understand.” How in the hell do I tell this man that I allowed to fuck me six ways to Sunday that I’m not actually into men at all?
This is where CeCe would tell me to just fucking spit it out.
Rip the band aid off. For someone who prides themselves on being a nurturer and protector, it’s really ironic that she takes such a get it over with stance when it comes to these things. “I’ve never–”
“Wait. You said you weren’t a virgin.”
“Will you just shut up and let me finish?” I chastise giving him my best glare until he cedes. “What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted, was that–until last night–I’ve never had sex with a man, becauuuuse… I’m gay.”
His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t respond. Shit. Worry begins to snake through me the longer he stays silent. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Stupid, Demi. If I wasn’t trapped between him and the wall, I’d run. If nothing else, to save me the humiliation of the rejection I know is coming.
The loud clanking of ceramic plates breaks the deafening silence that’s thick between us as Dolores sets our plates down.
I make a point to awkwardly thank her, but I can feel the heat of his stare still burning through my flesh.
“You had condoms,” he states plainly as his gorgeous face twists in confusion.
I stab a small stack of chocolate chip pancakes onto my fork and shove it in his face. “Here. Try it. You don’t even need syrup. Just a little bit of butter.” His lips wrap hesitantly around the fork to slide the bite into his mouth. Oh, that mouth.
He groans and I catch myself staring. Clearing my throat, I continue, “CeCe is notoriously irresponsible with her vagina and what she allows to enter it. I always keep some on hand in case I need to intervene so she doesn’t end up needing antibiotics after she gets some strange.”
He’s still for another moment, clearly processing the information I’ve just thrown at him, before his body relaxes and that cocky smirk takes over as he swallows.
He leans in close and I can’t stop myself from breathing in his scent.
I wish it didn’t, but it goes straight to my clit.
That’s the second time my poor clit has been the unintentional target of whatever this guy has going on.
His lip brushes against the lobe of my ear and I shiver as he whispers, “The way you came all over my tongue and cock last night tells me you either aren’t actually a lesbian or you aren’t as much as you thought.”
I slap his shoulder and shove him away before his proximity causes a moisture problem I’m not prepared for. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess. Isn’t there?”
“Fine,” he concedes. “I’ll bite. Tell me more?”
I’ve spent my life keeping things close to the vest. Growing up and realizing you’re a lesbian, in a small town, where everyone knows everyone else’s business will do that to you.
My parents weren’t any help, either. But that could be because even they didn’t know my biggest secret until I was an adult.
Don’t even get me started on what happened when they found out.
Let’s just say, things aren’t great between us.
I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about this man–who is taking up way too much space in my personal bubble–that makes me feel safe and comfortable.
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said you aren’t my type,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Aside from not having the right parts, I currently seem to have a penchant for fiery redheads… with vaginas and boobs, in case that part wasn’t clear.”
“Yeah, you’ve made that part pretty clear. If it makes you feel better, I also tend to prefer redheads… also with vaginas and boobs, so we seem to have that in common.”
It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does…
just a little, because unfortunately, I still feel like shit.
“I owe you an apology, though, Hayes. My ex broke up with me and I uprooted my life, ran to Chicago to escape the humiliation and then crawled into bed with the first warm body I came across. You know… you? Of course you do. You were there. I guess I’m trying to say, I used you to find solace from my broken heart and that was shitty of me. Can you forgive me?”
His expression twists again and I’m suddenly nauseous at the thought of him not accepting my apology.
“Demi,” he pauses and my heart thuds against my chest in anticipation of what could be coming.
“I’m the one that should be apologizing.
Not you. I got some information last night that knocked me on my ass and since I’m clearly your elder, I should have had better self-control than I did. I’m sorry.”
Well… that is that last thing I expected to hear.
“How old are you exactly?” I ask, stuffing another bite of pancake into my mouth. These are better than any I’ve ever had.
“Eh… forty-three.” He squeezes his eyes shut, then peeking through one, like he’s waiting for me to be appalled, but I’m not.
He doesn’t look his age, and even if he did, he’s in impeccable shape.
He certainly knows his way around a woman’s body.
If I were a better person, I’d reassure him of these things, but I can’t resist the urge to poke the bear.
“Well, then… we both used each other in some form or another, and we each had our reasons. Seems like we’re at a bit of a stalemate, aren’t we Grandpa?”