Chapter 14
COLLINS
Fidgeting, I tug the cream-colored sweatshirt lower, hands clasping the sleeves so as to grip them for stability.
Hayes stands in the middle of my bedroom, inspecting the heap of stuffed animals on my bed. Immediately, I want to shove them into a corner, hide my childish toys.
This morning, we made the choice to really sell our relationship. First step? Moving in together. Normal couples did that, right?
I’m already regretting this decision.
My desperation is the reason I’m here, looking at this hulking mass of a man in my personal space, feeling as if I’ll suffocate with him. He’s taking up too much space. How will he fit in here, with me and my things?
I didn’t think this through. The consequences, the longevity of it. It’s hitting me all at once. He’ll be here, until the Games end.
My palms sweat, my body uncomfortable with the realizations.
Following his gaze, he takes in things I don’t let others see—the towel covering my cracked mirror, the organized papers and color coordinated labels and the various medical texts, put into order of biggest to smallest. Through the closet, my clothes all hang in perfect rows, organized by color and season.
If it was anyone else, I’d be fighting off a panic attack right now. At them seeing me at my weakest. But Hayes has seen me at my worst—during panic attacks, low points, taking my barbs after a horrible day at school. He’s seen me naked on stage, pretending to be someone I’m not.
Strangely, I’m comforted that it's Hayes here and not a stranger.
“I’ve dreamed of what you’ve had in here.” He says, wistfully, looking to my bed.
My cheeks flush. I will not look at the bed where I called out his name.
“Oh, yeah? Some boyish childhood fantasy about where I keep my underwear?”
Laughing, Hayes nods, picking up a discarded sweatshirt. He doesn’t seem to fear my things, wrapping it around his fist. “Why fantasize about that, when I know exactly where you keep it, viper?”
“Prick.” He does not.
“Do you sleep with the animals?”
Defensively, I step in front of my bears, dogs, and a few rabbits. “They’re mine. I got them when I was in the hospital.”
“But do you sleep with them?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because if we’re sharing a bed, it’s just us. I don’t share. Especially with stuffed creatures.”
Snorting, I can’t help but poke fun. “Jealous of my stuffies, Hayes?”
“If they keep me from what I want?” His gaze lashes against me, a raging wave crashing into the shore and I hold my breath for impact. “Most definitely.”
I might not like his tone—that’s a total lie—but my body does. Everything fires, nerves dancing across my limbs, core fluttering. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, quick retort frozen because what the hell?
Inhaling shakily, I grab on to my fleeing logic. He’s Hayes—my sister’s best friend. He’s here to keep me from marrying Bruno. That’s it.
Even if I’ve had a crush on him for years. Even if I orgasmed to the fantasy of him.
Collins, no.
Smirk in place, he looks to my mirror. “Not a fan?”
Shifting, I clear my throat, avoiding his gaze. “No.”
He only takes a moment before nodding once, and moves on. If I thought he’d say something, offer weak words of encouragement about my looks, I’d be disappointed. He doesn’t say anything.
Oddly, I appreciate it. I don’t want the fake comfort, or being told ‘you’re beautiful’ with halfhearted sincerity. It wouldn’t work anyway. It’s hard to tell your mind something when it’s only been mean to you. It wouldn’t compute.
“The closet has better organization than the weapons room.” He gestures to the hangers. “Everything has a place, all the colors match. Watch one of those organizational shows?”
“I like organizing,” I defend.
He points to his clothes. “It’s cute, but I’ll need to take over some of that space.”
Duh. My room is now his space.
Going to the wide, walk-in closet, I shuffle my things, adjusting shelves as he unpacks, trying to keep the pattern the same. He doesn’t have much. A few pairs of jeans, some shirts, his broken-in brown leather jacket, two suits, and very little else.
Sloane would weep over his abysmal clothing. I find it freeing. I’ve never been big on clothes. I hide behind drab fabrics and simple styles—not because I’m fashion-less, but because I hide every flaw with masks. I always have.
He goes back into our room, placing his laptop on my desk, craving a spot of himself into my things, touching everything as if it belongs to him. I want to hate it—but it’s natural. Almost like it was always supposed to be like this.
“Let’s go over it again,” Hayes directs, gaining my attention. I release my shirt, climbing on to my bed. Grabbing a bear, I hold it to my chest, much to his annoyance.
“Right. The story.”
We spent the afternoon discussing our dating history. It has to stand up to my older sister’s scrutiny. I’m not sure what that entails, but Hayes does. He knows her better than me.
“When did we have our first date?”
“Three years ago,” I reply. The best lies have a kernel of truth; three years ago, Hayes saw me for the first time at The Dock. “We went out for drinks.”
“What kind of drinks?”
Rolling my eyes, I deadpan, “Coffee.”
Crossing his arms, his shirt rises, showing off the black tribal ink that covers his entire left side, dipping low into the band of his pants. “You don’t drink coffee. You drink green tea. If you lie about something small, she’ll know.”
Nodding, I flop back on to my pillows. It’s kind of annoying having someone know everything about you. “You had coffee. I had tea. We stayed there all night talking.”
“Where?”
“The Corner Coffee Hub.”
He rubs his beard, looking me over, a dangerous smirk on his face. Uh-oh. “When’s the first time we slept together?”
Clearing my throat, my face blushes. “Is that important?”
“You don’t think sleeping with your fiancé is important?”
“Important to tell my sister? Seems weird, Hayes.”
The hitter smiles, face lightening in a way that can only be described as beautiful.
The twinkle of his blue eyes glistens, his beard giving him the ruggedness most men could only dream of pulling off.
“If you don’t think your sister will ask uncomfortable questions, just to get under our skin, you don’t know her at all. ”
Huffing, I hold the bear closer to my chest as a shield. “Well, out of the two of us, only you know her best.”
Hayes and Maeve have the kind of relationship I always wanted. He knows her fears, he’s seen her vulnerable, he knows her secrets. My sister trusts him—and she doesn’t trust anyone. Least of all me.
Growing up, Maeve was someone I adored. And now, there’s still a small part that wants to be like her—to have her like me.
“On the first date,” Hayes begins, easily, stalking closer. He leans against the bed, hovering above my face. His clear blue eyes are endless like the sea. “I took you back to my place, tied you up to my headboard, and felt that bite firsthand.”
Pulling back just enough to take a breath, I shake my head, heart thumping loudly.
“I wouldn’t have slept with someone on the first date.”
“But you fuck them in the library after a few study sessions?”
Anything good I felt for this man evaporates.
“We’re not discussing that,” I cut off, hand held high.
“No, I think we should.” He pulls my hand to his chest and I can feel the steady thump of his heart.
“I should know all about my fiancée’s previous relationships.
What did they offer you? It certainly wasn’t skill.
” He scoffs. “They’ll follow anything with a pretty smile.
Did you use that to your advantage? They were something to take the edge off?
” The bastard tsks. “If that’s the case, viper, you could have asked me. You would have at least orgasmed.”
My cheeks burn darker. “You’re disgusting. I wouldn’t have asked you for help with that.”
He winks. “Why? Because you’d become addicted?”
I snort. “Arrogant, much?”
“Arrogance is for men who know they can’t do better. I’m confident I can. I could get you off better than any pretty boy at your college.”
Stepping away, he slides his hands into his pockets. “Like it or not, viper, your sister knows me. She knows I take whatever I want, when I want it. If I wanted you, there’d be no waiting. I’d drag you back to my apartment and properly fuck the attitude out of you.
He pinches my chin. “Remember that, Collins. I’m not a good guy.” Licking his lips, his eyes fall to my lips. “Do you want me to fuck your pretty pussy, baby?”
Jerking away, I snort. “Not a chance.”
He lets me go. “No? That’s a real shame. It’s going to be a lonely few months without orgasming.”
Glancing away, I shrug. “I’ll manage, thanks.”
He smirks and continues. “When did I propose?”
My brows furrow. “Uh… you—” My mind flashes to him under me and I clear my throat. “Last month.”
“In the courtyard of the Isabella Gardner Museum.” My favorite museum. Does he enjoy using all my interests against me? “I didn’t kneel. I was too scared to look into your face.”
My eyes narrow. “Scared? You’ve never been scared a day in your life.”
Hayes smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“You’d be surprised.” Taking out a small box, he holds it up.
“What if you said no? I wouldn’t be able to look at your face and have all my dreams broken.
So, I hugged you. Told you how utterly perfect you were—and for me.
Then I gave you this.” The box opens with a loud creak and I gulp as he stares at it, unwilling to let me see.
“What the fuck is this? Hayes, we didn’t discuss this.” As I try to rage at him, the urge to see the ring grows to desperate levels. A ring? He has a ring for me?
“Relax, viper. I didn’t buy it for you.” Those blue eyes look up at me and he winks. “It’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“Well, my mother’s,” he explains softly.
My heart constricts painfully. “I can’t take that. Not if it’s your mother’s.” I know nothing about the woman—Hell, I know nothing about my fake fiancé. How can I take something so precious?
“If you want to sell it, you’ll need a ring on your finger.” He finally turns the box, slipping the heavy ring on. “My ring on your finger.”
“You’re awfully possessive.” Why do I like it so much? “Especially over a fake girlfriend.”
Hayes laughs like I told a joke. “You haven’t seen anything yet, viper.” He holds my hand up and shrugs. “What do you think?”
My brain short circuits as I take in the opulence. It’s a blue sapphire, easily six carats, with two smaller diamonds on each side. It’s the kind of ring that adorns princesses in foreign countries, not a lowly medical student who still can’t look in the mirror on her best days.
“Hayes, I—” my words die tragically in my throat. How do I describe how beautiful it is while also yelling at him for something so extravagant?
“We have to make it look real,” he explains. “And trust me. My mother would have loved to see you wear it.”
The band is solid and warm against my skin, crafted with fine details. It’s a heavy weight—not one of stifling oppression but of partnership and respect. It’s a tether to someone out there—someone who wants me and only me for the rest of our lives.
Growing up, I never saw this for myself. Who could love someone who looked like me? But with Hayes’ ring on my finger, I feel at once wanted and protected. Cherished and loved.
“Your mother isn’t around?”
He shakes his head. “No. But she’d approve.”
He drops my hand before saying, “One more thing.”
Grabbing my neck, he hauls me close, faces inches apart. My breath stalls and wide eyes take in his deceptively cool look, his causal smirk as if we’re discussing the weather.
“Now that you wear my ring, you’re mine, viper.” I subconsciously inhale his breath, thinking it’ll sustain me. “My conditions still stand. No one else gets between those legs. You’re completely, utterly, mine.”
Licking my lips, I start to shake my head. “But the rules—”
“You never set any rules.” His nose brushes mine and my knees tremble. “We can keep a five-foot barrier around us at all times. Or I can bend you over this desk until you only remember my name. All of this is whatever you want it to be.”
Gulping, I scoff. “You don’t mean that.” He can’t possibly want me like that.
“I rarely say anything I don’t mean, viper.
” His thumb tenderly caresses my pulse point.
“But if I find out someone else’s cock has been inside you?
I will hunt them down, break every bone in their body, drink down their screams of agony, and lay their corpse at your door.
It will be on your conscience. Understand? ”
I do. Shuddering, my thighs press together, panties damp. I want him to raise Hell, level the world for me, to keep me his.
It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to think that way. To allow myself to give into the darkness inside my soul, put there by my father’s lessons. I want him to hurt people to keep me.
I should be revolted by it. But I’m not. This is the monster I hide in my soul.
His fingers bite into my neck, interrupting my breath. “Words, baby. I need words.”
“I understand.”
“You listen so well when you’re being told what to do,” he praises. “Don’t even think of trying to go behind my back, either, Collins. I’ll find out. And you’ll see how truly possessive I can be.”
He drops me on the bed, turning toward my closet, grabbing something. “Now that’s settled,” he retorts, returning with a blue dress. “Get dressed. Tonight is the voting for the contenders and I’ll need my lucky charm on my arm.”
I ignore the energy in my gut from his words and touches, focusing on the dress. “I can’t wear this.” It’s a skin-tight blue bodycon dress I use to work the floor at The Dock. Hardly acceptable for clan matters.
Hayes’ deliciously dark grin dares me to object. “Put it on, baby. This way there’s no mistaking who you are and what you are to me.”
He lifts his shirt over his head, turning toward the shower as I call out to him, exasperated. “I can’t wear this, Hayes. Maeve will see me. It’s not appropriate.”
He shrugs, unaffected. “That’s kind of the point.” Then he winks, closing the bathroom door with a soft click.
Flopping back, I scream into the dress.
I’m not going to survive this.