“Maren.”
Hayes’s fingers brush through my mussed hair, tucking unruly strands behind my ear before he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear in a whisper. “Please, dove. Come back to bed with me.”
And just like that, I melt, my body responding again.
His hand sneaks around the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles there as he leads me back inside his room. When the door closes, we stand in the dark, connected only by his fingers trailing through my hair.
It feels so good, I can barely breathe . . . and hardly dare hope for what might happen next.
“I’ll turn on the light,” he finally mumbles, releasing me and walking back to the bed. He sits on the edge, leaning over to turn on the lamp, which casts dim yellow light over his features.
In the hallway, I didn’t register how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy, hands clenched, a pair of gray boxers hanging low on his hips. His blush can’t compare to mine, but there’s still a distinct coloring across his cheekbones.
I carefully make my way to the opposite corner of the bed and sit. Hayes shifts so that he’s looking directly at me. How can he be so confident still?
“What was going through your head? When you kissed me?” he asks, dropping his gaze to the stretch of wrinkled sheets between us.
What a question. It almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
“I don’t know. I guess I . . . I’ve always wondered, you know? What did those other girls have that I don’t.” Saying it out loud is like taking bolt cutters to the padlocks on my heart. I’m worried what else will slip out of the vault.
“Nothing. They had nothing on you, dove.”
I scoff. Now I know for sure he’s patronizing me.
“Be real,” I say, shooting him a skeptical look while my fingers busy themselves along the hem of my T-shirt.
“I am.”
From the look on his face, the same face I’ve known nearly my whole life . . . he’s not lying. My heart skips a beat.
“My turn,” I say, my throat tight. “Today in the water, I felt you . . .” I pause and look down, then meet his eyes again when I find my courage. “I felt you get hard. Was that real?”
Hayes closes his eyes for a moment, his brows furrowing together in some sort of inner turmoil. When he opens his eyes again, he almost looks sad. “Real. Very real,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before.
He looks so vulnerable right now, so different from the powerhouse of a man I’ve come to know and admire. Is he only trying to be gentle with me? Because the vulnerable expression on his face is doing things for me that I’d rather not say out loud.
I want you so much.
Slowly, I lean over the bed, crawling toward him. The closer I get, the more the apprehension in his eyes melts into what I can only describe as lust.
Does he want me too?
I only stop when we’re a breath apart. Still on my knees, I reach with one finger to trace his sharp, clenched jawline. Hayes’s dark, dilated eyes are fixed on my lips now. With my finger, I trace the outline of his plump bottom lip. The unasked question floats in the air between us.
And when I kiss him again, I know I won’t be able to stop.
Hayes sighs into my mouth, his big, strong hands reaching up to cup my face before pushing into my hair. His lips move against mine urgently, his hot tongue sliding inside, flicking against mine with a delicious slickness. With a handful of my hair gripped firmly, but not painfully, he angles our kisses deeper than before. I can’t contain the moan that escapes my throat.
When I gasp for air, Hayes runs his hot mouth against my jaw, my neck, my still-clothed shoulder. I raise my arms, and he takes the hint, lifting the oversized T-shirt over my head. When his gaze lowers to my bare breasts, I suck in a breath, and when his palms brush the tender skin along their sides, my nipples go erect.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasps into my ear, lightly pinching one nipple.
I nearly jolt. Shit. It’s been a long time since a man has touched me. And this is Hayes.
Everything feels electrified. The heavy thump of my heart. His big hands holding mine. But it’s his eyes that dismantle me. Long, impossibly thick lashes. So much hot emotion reflected back at me.
So many times, I’ve imagined the kind of lover Hayes would be. Demanding. In control. Generous.
“Lay down,” he whispers, and I obey without a thought.
His muscled body stretches over mine, enveloping me in his warmth and his weight. He supports himself on his forearms, and I spread my legs for him, lifting my hips to brush myself against his abdomen. When his rock-hard erection rubs against my core, I gasp with surprise. It’s longer, thicker, and hotter than I remember from the lake.
Tracing my fingers along the defined lines of his pecs, abs, and obliques, I’m dizzy with desire. When he pushes his length against the front of my damp panties, he does so with slow, deliberate strokes. I claw at his hips, my head spinning with attraction. I’ve never wanted anyone more, and try to push his boxers down with my feet, but he moves away.
Hayes kisses a trail down my neck to my breasts, his tongue flicking out to brush against one peaked nipple. I cry out, my back arching in ecstasy as he wraps his lips around the taut, sensitive flesh, sucking, nipping, and licking away like my tit is his favorite flavor of ice cream. I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling tight when I feel his fingertips exploring the skin of my thighs, the edge of my panties. Without removing the wet cotton, Hayes finds my most sensitive spot and
