Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adam
Isit across from Hayden at her small kitchen table, a jar filled with wildflowers between us, and watch her munch away on a burrito.
I should be thinking about the explosive sex we just had…
Who am I kidding? I am thinking about that.
But I’m also thinking about how much I like this girl.
Everything—the way she tastes, the feel of her pressed to my skin, her ridiculous obsession with shoes I seem to find charming. For the first time, like doesn’t fit.
Everything about Hayden is charming or intelligent or kind, and she has so much integrity.
I see her—all of her—and I can’t look away.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I enjoyed the sound of Hayden being mine.
I think of her as mine, which I’ve never done with anyone.
I’ve never wanted more than pleasure and company.
But right now, all I can think about is how great it would be to wake up to Hayden every day.
To make love to her at night and fall asleep with her in my arms…
Sex with her has knocked a screw loose.
This isn’t me. In a few hours, I’ll be back to normal. Won’t feel this pressing urge to bundle her up and never let her go.
Popping the last bite of chicken burrito in my mouth, I watch as she wraps half of hers and carries it to the fridge.
She sets it inside and leans over, her forehead puckered in concentration.
Her cute ass is in the air, giving me all sorts of ideas of walking up behind her and having my way with her.
Before I can enact my fantasy, she closes the fridge and walks to a cupboard, reaching for something up high.
I’m about to walk over and help, but that would interrupt the fascinating food scavenging she’s doing and the view she’s giving me.
Her tank top has ridden up, exposing her panties and the most beautiful feminine form I’ve ever seen.
Can’t interrupt. The view is too good. She is beautiful. Physically, but even more so inside.
Hayden has morals. She’s being a pain in my ass at work, but it’s because she fights for what she thinks is right. I could learn something from her.
I ball up the wrapper from my burrito and toss it in the trashcan at the end of the counter. Hayden walks over, gazing lustfully at a piece of dark chocolate she must have procured from the cupboard.
“Why did you leave?” I ask as she sits down. I’m fascinated by everything about Hayden, and I want to know the parts I missed.
Things were terrible for her when the rumor broke out during high school, but Hayden is strong. Most people would have freaked out over what happened, except Hayden isn’t like most people. She’s ballsy and hardheaded.
She chews the chocolate, her gaze on the table. She gives a light shrug as though coming to some sort of decision. “They stoned me.”
For a moment, an image flashes in my mind of women being stoned in countries where they’re not allowed to show their skin, or be seen walking with a man who isn’t a relative. But that can’t be what she meant. “Excuse me?”
Hayden scoops crumbs from the table with the side of her hand and brushes them into the trashcan.
I still can’t believe how tidy her home is compared to her office.
Not that I give two shits, but it does give me pause.
“My parents couldn’t spare the car one day, so I walked home from school.
Kids in class had been whispering about me.
Someone had knocked me into a wall on my way from last period.
All typical behavior since the rumor came out. ”
She glances up, looking slightly nervous, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s talking about something uncomfortable, or if it’s because my face probably looks like I want to murder someone.
“I was a couple of blocks from the school parking lot. I’d just turned down a side street filled with apartments.
There were hardly any cars around. I remember feeling leery, but I had to get home somehow, and it seemed stupid to turn back.
” She lets out a heavy sigh. “A car pulled up and someone threw a soda can at my head.”
What the fuck?
“I heard them laughing and I started running,” she continues. “A paper bag with food came at me next. I kept running. Then I heard car doors closing and footsteps pounding behind me.”
Her breathing is shaky, as though she’s reliving the moment. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand so tightly I have to force myself to ease up.
“A rain of rocks came hurtling at my back,” she says.
“One of them was so large it bruised my shoulder blade and I stumbled, but I didn’t stop.
If anything, I became frantic, and that stupid street was so damn long.
I was gasping and crying and calling out.
And then a fist-sized stone slammed into the back of my skull.
” The hand I’m not holding absently touches the back of her head.
“I woke up on the ground. They were gone, and I was bleeding.”
I lean forward. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Furious doesn’t begin to describe what I feel right now, as the woman I…care about…tells me how some dicks could have killed her.
She tries for a light smile. “If it makes any difference, I don’t think they planned to throw rocks at me.
I was running from them—it was one of those heat-of-the-moment things.
I called my parents and they found me. They took me to the hospital.
I needed a couple of stitches, but otherwise I was fine.
But that was it. My parents decided to move, and I supported it because I didn’t want to worry them anymore. ”
Her expression shows a mixture of guilt and nervousness, which I don’t understand. “Why does that bother you? You had no choice. It was dangerous for you to stay.”
She wraps her arms over her chest and rubs the skin pebbled in gooseflesh on her upper arms. “I didn’t do what the town accused me of, but I allowed them to beat me down. It pissed me off—it still pisses me off.”
I stand and walk over. Reaching for her hand, I pull her up and take her seat, easing her onto my lap. I brush aside the hair where she touched her head. Sure enough, there’s a small crescent scar beneath.
I wrap her in my arms and press her cheek to my chest where I can keep her warm and safe. I seriously want to hurt someone—preferably the dicks that attacked her. “Why didn’t the police do anything?”
“They tried, but it happened so fast I never saw who did it. I was too busy running for my life. The car I described, based on the split-second glance I got before things were being hurled at me, fit the description of half the cars in our high school parking lot. For all I knew, the kids came from another school. The rumor about me wasn’t limited to ours. It spread.”
Hayden and her parents didn’t have the resources my family does.
She wouldn’t have been able to sustain a scandal like that without more bastards hurting her.
“Too many people around this town think it’s their moral obligation, in between living off the gambling and drinking of others, to judge,” I mutter.
She settles her head on my shoulder. “I came back—that’s all that matters. I’m not running anymore.”
I stare down at her and lightly kiss her forehead. “You’ll never need to run again.”
Because as far as I’m concerned, I will do whatever it takes to protect her.
Hayden
Adam carries me back to my bed, where he divests me of what little I’m wearing and covers me with his body. It’s warm and cozy, and I’m certain he means it as a comforting gesture, but our bodies can’t sustain close contact before hands begin to wander and heated kisses turn desperate with need.
In the afterglow of that second bout of lovemaking, I lay my head on top of his chest, our legs entwined. He pulls up a lock of my hair and looks at it in the light of the clock. Which reads two in the morning. I have to work tomorrow, but whatever. I never want to leave this spot.
“Why does your hair smell so good?” he says. “Like apples and cinnamon. I want to eat it.”
“Please don’t eat my hair. I need it to keep my head warm.”
He takes a giant whiff, then carefully sets the lock back on my shoulder. “Don’t get creeped out if I sniff your hair from time to time. It’s your fault it smells so good.”
“Don’t get creeped out if I smell your neck.”
He chuckles. “Why my neck?”
“Because you smell good.”
His arms tighten around me. “You can smell me. And touch me. As a matter of fact, there’s something reaching for you right now that you’re welcome to touch.”
I swat his chest and he chuckles. “I can’t believe you have the energy for that. Again.”
Adam yawns. “I don’t, but there’s another part of me that perks up whenever you’re near. He’s on alert twenty-four-seven.”
“Good to know for when I wish to take advantage of you.”
“Twenty-four-seven,” he repeats, his voice groggy, as though he’s falling asleep.
A few seconds pass, and I’m not even sure if he’s awake. My mind wanders to our conversation earlier. Being stoned by a group of kids from school was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. I felt helpless, but for some reason, sharing it with Adam released a weight from my chest.
Secure and more comfortable than I can remember being in a long time, I ask the question that’s been on my mind all night. “Adam,” I say quietly.
“Mmm?”
“Where is your mother?”
His breathing stills. Then his chest deflates as he pulls me closer. “She died of cancer when I was six.”
My hand flexes against his chest at the shock of his confession. “I’m sorry.”
He rubs my arm. “Was a long time ago.”
“What about your dad? Are you close to him?” I never found out what his dad wanted to talk to him about tonight, but his father made it clear I wasn’t welcome in the conversation.
I can’t imagine Adam’s dad knows about the teacher rumor.
Whatever was bothering him, I doubt it had anything to do with me.
“I’m closer to him than my brothers are, but that’s not saying much.”
“How can six men who lost the woman in their life not band together?” I want to understand him. And comfort him. And if I’m going to, I need to know more about him.
He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he says, “After my mother died, my father checked out. In a way, we lost both of them that day—our mother to cancer, and our father to Club Tahoe, where he put all of his energy. The only difference between my brothers and me is that I tried to stay close to our father. I lived the lifestyle he did, I worked for him—I did whatever he asked. Since stepping away to work at Blue, I’ve realized those choices I made never brought us closer. And they never made me happy.”
His body is tense, a war of emotions playing out on his face—a handsome face that rarely reveals what he’s feeling, always masked by that sexy veneer.
But I don’t see that Adam anymore. I see beneath the pretty exterior to the person filled with kindness, caring, intelligence, and sometimes pain. “What makes you happy?”
He shrugs lightly. “My brothers gave up their trust funds to live their lives the way they want. I thought I couldn’t live without the money.
” He peers down and his gaze softens. “But here I am. With you. And I can’t imagine a better life than one filled with jars of flowers and a beautiful girl who walks around in her underwear eating chocolate. ”
I grin, and he squeezes me to him. “When my father approached my brothers and me tonight, I realized it wasn’t the lifestyle I craved. I wanted his time. Doing what he said meant I was close to him in some way, but it was never enough.”
I crawl on top of Adam until my body is aligned with his, and tuck my face into his neck, my arms cradling his head. I don’t want him to feel alone. Ever. “What did your dad say to you tonight?”
Adam flattens his hands on my lower back. “He said we should spend more time together as a family.” His chest rises on a deep breath. “I can’t even tell you how ridiculous that statement sounded after so long. He offered what I’ve wanted since my mother died, and I couldn’t take him seriously.”
I tilt my head to see his face. “Maybe you should. People can change.”
He shakes his head. “My father—he snaps his fingers and expects us to follow orders. I get the reason why my brothers have butted heads with the old man. He doesn’t know how to…”
“He doesn’t know how to love you?” I say.
Adam looks down, then kisses my forehead. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. This is the first time my father has reached out to us. It’s odd. He is odd lately.” He chuckles. “My dad’s suggestion had one predictable effect. Levi, Wes, Bran, and Hunter stormed out.”
“Maybe in time you can give your dad a chance. If he’s not used to trying, it couldn’t have been easy for him to make the request, and he may not have known what to say to you and your brothers.”
“Maybe.” He pulls me up until our mouths are aligned.
The pain in his gaze lingers, but it’s quickly being overtaken by a naughty glint I’m beginning to recognize.
“That’s enough of that talk. We have a few hours before work.
How shall we spend it?” His eyes sparkle as they skitter over my mouth to my breasts pressed against his chest. “We could tick off a few items from my honey-do list.”
“Are you trying to avoid talking about your father?”
“Just maximizing our alone time.”
“I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” I say with a long-suffering sigh that’s entirely insincere.
“Not if I use my mouth.” He quirks his eyebrows and my heart races.