Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Hayden
I’ve never seen Adam this exhausted. When I went to the bedroom to check on him, he was wavering in the doorway, his hands clutched to his head. I didn’t think; I simply dragged him to the bed to help relieve his obvious pain.
A gust of air escaped his mouth as soon as I placed my hands on his head. He’s been quiet for several minutes now. No banter, no insults. Which isn’t like him.
After another five minutes of rubbing and admiring my kick-ass walk-in closet that looks amazing and is going to make all my shoe dreams come true, I notice something peculiar. Not only is Adam not bantering with me, he isn’t moving either.
I hold my fingers still. “Adam?”
Nothing.
I lean closer. His breathing is steady—really steady—and his eyes are closed. A light snore sounds.
He fell asleep?
Adam looked tired these last couple of days. He’s been working late at Blue, because my coworker spies tell me so, and now I’ve got him working all weekend at my house. What kind of person am I? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him when he said he didn’t mind building the closet.
I sit back on my hands, feeling terrible. Should I wake him? Let him sleep a little, then wake him?
I tilt my head and study his posture. He looks uncomfortable all hunched over.
Reaching out, I gently push his shoulder to the side, just to see what will happen. I fully expect him to wake.
He doesn’t. Instead, he tips onto his back, one hand falling across his chest.
Adam Cade is asleep on my bed. And he looks adorable all relaxed and boyish. But still, this is weird.
Is he sick? I place the back of my hand to his forehead. He feels fine. In fact, he reaches up and covers my hand with his strong, wide palm, and my heart barrels around in my chest. His palm is warm and callused, just like it looks, and now I have Adam on my bed and my hand trapped beneath his.
And why is that such a bad thing? Adam is H.O.T., and the hero of many of my daydream fantasies, when I wish to torture myself. But I can’t sit like this all night.
I could wake him. That would be the normal thing to do. But I don’t want to. First of all, he’s exhausted, the reason he crashed during his head massage. Seems kind of mean to force him awake. Second, and I know this is the most selfish reason of all—I don’t want him to leave.
I’ve enjoyed having Adam over to work on the closet, shocking as it is to admit.
Sometimes I would hang out with him, because it was incredibly sexy to watch him use his skilled hands—and because I enjoyed his company.
We talked like we’d been friends forever.
He never made me feel bad about the past. I actually felt better after sharing it with him.
Other times, I’d get my own work done in a different room.
But mostly, Adam made the space I grew up in warmer. Which makes no sense.
I gently ease my hand away, and he rolls to his side, a soft snore-breathing sound rumbling from his chest. I stand and walk around him, pulling his legs onto the bed.
Instead of waking, he burrows deeper into the comforter.
I carefully take off his boots. And, okay, I’m being super gentle not to rouse him at this point, but still.
Most people would stir with even a light tug. Maybe he’s one of those heavy sleepers?
Adam can’t sleep like this forever. He’ll wake in an hour and wonder what happened. Then he’ll go home. Which is fine, and much more humane than shaking him awake when he’s beat.
That decided, I exit the bedroom and close the door partway. I clean up the kitchen, watch the last of the late-night news, and fold a load of towels. The entire time, I’m expecting Adam to walk out, dazed, and asking me what happened.
He doesn’t.
I switch out of my pajama pants and into pajama shorts that keep me cool at night, and brush my teeth.
The second bedroom is an office and storage room—no bed in there—so I return to my bedroom and carefully ease under the blankets at the top of the bed.
I could sleep on the couch, but the truth is, I’d rather be with Adam.
I ruffle around in the nightstand for the latest smut novel I borrowed from Mira (who gets her stash from Gen), and try to keep my eyes open.
After reading the same page three times, I give up the fight and turn off the light.
I’m cramped at the top of the bed and Adam is cramped at the bottom. One of us will shift positions and wake, and Adam will go home. No big deal. For now, I’m closing my eyes.
Adam
Remnants of my dream fade—one where I’m cruising through the mountains in the XKR with Hayden beside me, only she’s wearing tiny shorts and I can’t stop staring at her legs. Which would happen if this were reality. Hayden has gorgeous legs.
I rub my eyes and look around, and my back tenses.
This isn’t my room. I’m not in my bed.
And then I recognize the beautiful legs from my dream inches from my face. Or really, one leg. The other is under the covers. But the leg outside the blanket is outfitted in tiny sleep shorts. The bare hint of round ass showing immediately has blood pooling to the lower half of my body.
What the hell happened last night?
I sit up on my elbow and take in the rest of the beautiful girl at the top of the bed.
And then I remember. I was about to leave, but my head was pounding like a son of a bitch.
Hayden gave me a head massage, and I must have conked.
Considering the low golden glow streaming in through the window, it seems I slept through the night.
Jesus. I don’t remember ever passing out like this, not even during my college days when I made it my business to power down cheap beer. And I’m certain it had everything to do with Hayden touching me.
When was the last time a woman touched me that way? Not for foreplay, just a gentle caress for the sake of caring for someone. Has anyone besides my mother given me that kind of attention?
I rub my forehead, certain the answer is no. And not because I haven’t dated nice women. I never wanted to be touched in a caring way. Until last night. With Hayden. She put her pretty little hands on me, and heaven spread through my body. Everything after that is a blur.
I woke with this horrible moment of panic too. For a second I thought I was in another woman’s bed. I worried I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Because the only bed I want to find myself in is Hayden’s.
This isn’t an attraction to a woman I work with. It’s never been that simple.
A light squeak sounds and Hayden stretches her arms above her head, her tank top straining against the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen. No bra this time.
I groan. She is killing me.
Hayden glances over and sits up, confusion filling her face as she looks around in surprise. “It’s morning?”
“It would seem that way.” I sit up, my movements slow, and run my fingers through my hair, which I sense is standing on end. “Sorry about last night. That was…unprecedented. I don’t usually fall asleep in women’s beds. I’m typically too busy.” I give her a lopsided grin.
She rolls her eyes and smiles shyly, and damn if she isn’t stunning.
I’ve always dated attractive women, but none of them looked like sunshine and dreams when they first woke.
Oh, Hayden’s hair is a hot mess, and she’s got sleep marks along one cheek, but make no mistake.
She. Is. Fucking. Beautiful. Her beauty beams from the inside.
We’re a foot apart, and a war rages inside me. This is the same girl who fascinated me for reasons my puberty-stricken brain couldn’t interpret. This is also the woman my hands want to touch and hold. But Hayden doesn’t trust me, and I sense it’s not all due to the past.
“I should probably go,” I mumble. If I stay, I will kiss her, and I’m not sure she wants that. Being with Hayden isn’t something I wish to fuck up.
“Are you thirsty?” She swings her long legs over the bed, and of course, I’m staring. Because her legs. “Apple juice okay?”
I nod in a trance and follow her. She’s in a tiny tank top and shorts, and I can’t seem to think straight.
Hayden enters the kitchen and opens the fridge.
She pulls out juice and reaches up for glasses in one of the cupboards.
I watch the graceful, unself-conscious movements that make her so utterly fascinating.
And sexy. She’s in pajamas with morning hair, and everything she does—the sound of her voice, the way she moves—calls to me.
She pours two glasses and hands me one. I drink half of mine in a single swallow, the ripe, fruity flavor heightening my senses, as though they weren’t already on overdrive.
Hayden takes her glass and walks to the end of the kitchen where I’m standing. She hops onto a lip of the counter that’s lower than the rest and supported by shelving. Her legs swing back and forth, her ankles hooked together. She smiles over her juice glass. A secret, private smile. And that’s it.
I set my cup down, never taking my eyes off her, and step closer.
Her smile fades and her eyes turn huge. She sets her glass to the side.
I lean in and brace my hands on the counter next to her hips. “Are we finished with this?”
“With what?” she says, her voice a touch breathless and morning-raspy. Her golden eyes are dazed and focused on my mouth, and her pulse throbs near her throat.
“The game.” I plant my mouth on hers.
There’s a moment when I sense her surprise, as if this wasn’t the culmination of extreme sexual tension built up since the day I walked into Blue Casino and caught her with her ass in the air. Then her ankles unhook and she reaches up and grabs my shoulders, pulling me closer.
Game on.
I slide her hips flush with the edge of the counter, nestling my legs between her soft thighs—exactly where I’ve wanted to be for months.
I’m no saint, but I am loyal, no matter what my exes say.
And, apparently, hopeful. Because this is the reason for my long abstinence, even if I didn’t realize it. I’ve been waiting for Hayden.
My arms band around her, pulling her up until she’s plastered to my chest. I can feel her heart pounding. Or maybe it’s mine. Either way, she fits against me perfectly.
Hayden wraps her legs around the back of mine, and my groin presses against the sweet spot between her thighs. My breath stops at the exact moment a moan sings from her throat. The sound of that siren’s song snaps my control.
I pick her up and carry her back to the bedroom, her touch and taste burning through me. We reach her bed and I lay her down, immediately covering her with my body. Her arms wrap around my neck and she digs her fingers in my scalp.
I kiss the soft spot behind her ear and drop my arm over the side of her bare leg, hugging her to my body.
I skim my fingertips from her calf to the soft swell that teased me the moment my eyes opened this morning, and squeeze her round ass.
She moans again and arches into the rock-hard erection beneath my jeans.
“Hayden,” I say. In two seconds I could have her stripped and my body inside hers. And God, if that doesn’t drive every rational thought from my head—
I blink to clear the fucking fog clouding everything except the pleasure I want to give her, and pull back.
“Is this what you want?” She’s already following me up, reaching for me, kissing my chin, my throat.
I swallow, trying to maintain control, when all I want is to lose it.
“Hayden?” This time, the question in my voice gets her attention.
She falls back and stares up at me, her breathing rough and labored like mine. But there’s a split second of hesitation in her eyes—and it’s enough.
I sit up and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I want to be inside her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life—to own her body, and most especially her heart.
And because I want that other piece of her I’ve never cared to own with any other, I can’t make a move unless she’s willing to give it all.
I stand abruptly. “I’ve gotta go.”
She sits up and grabs my arm. “Adam?” Her eyes are searching.
I’ve confused her. Jesus, I’ve confused myself.
I reach down and slide my hand through a lock of sun-kissed hair that’s fallen in her face, and cradle her jaw, bringing her close. I gently kiss her mouth and drop my forehead to hers, my breathing rough. “I’ll see you at work.”