“Fuckkkk,” he rasped at the sight of me. I was wearing tattered leggings and a cropped sweatshirt that showed off a sliver of my stomach. My hair was a mess of tangles and was still damp from the long shower I indulged in earlier.
“I’m literally in my pajamas. Stop acting like I answered the door in lingerie,” I said with a slow roll of my eyes before looking him up and down once more. His shirt was wrinkled. His jeans were tight. The scuffed boots on his feet looked masculine and eclectic.
“I’ll stop undressing you with my eyes when you stop undressing me with yours,” he teased before dropping his duffel bag and wrapping me up in a bone-crushing hug.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed this. The moment his arms wrapped around me, I felt some of the ice in my veins melt with white-hot emotion. My eyes burned with unshed tears. He felt like safety. I nuzzled against his chest while holding on to him for dear life. My body trembled from the warmth rolling off of him. I’d never been hugged like this before. “I’m so sorry, Vera. I didn’t want this for you.”
I shook my head and reluctantly pulled away. “Why are you apologizing?” I asked. “It’s not your fault.”
Hamilton swallowed and picked up his duffel bag before walking inside. Little Mama waddled after him with the cutest grin. She whined and wiggled as he crouched down to pet and cuddle with her. Watching them together made my heart warm. “Has anyone bothered you?” Hamilton asked me before standing.
“Other than the ten calls from my mother and Jared’s constant knocking on my door, no.”
I let out a sigh and walked up to Hamilton. Being around him was like taking a straight shot of serotonin and adrenaline. I tried. I really tried to hate him. I should have probably felt awkward with him. I wasn’t expecting him to come to my rescue—a shining knight on a red-eye flight, with whiskey on his breath. There was something about Hamilton that just made me feel comfortable. When I wasn’t ridiculously turned on by him, I was enjoying the ease we had with one another. It was like he just understood me. It was a feeling I hadn’t ever experienced with anyone before.
But these moments of genuine connection felt fragile—as if they were written on lined paper easily ripped out of one’s journal. Torn to shreds. Burned to ash.
“What are we doing, Hamilton?” I asked while crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against my kitchen island. He smiled at me, as if expecting my question.
“Well. For starters, I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee because I’m running on about three hours of sleep on a shitty, crowded plane.”
I nodded. Not exactly where I was going with this, but Hamilton liked to dance around things. His playful and carefree persona ate up all the air in the room. I felt wound up while waiting for the crash. “And then what?”
“Then I’m going to double-check your locks. I’m going to call the police to see if they have any leads on Saint. I’m going to take my dog on a walk and unpack.”
“Unpack?”
For the first time since arriving, he looked unsure. I had started to catch his little nuances now. The casual way he averted his gaze when he wasn’t sure what to say. He coughed back whatever truth he wanted to spill. “Yeah. Apparently, you’ve made my dog love you more than me. I figure the only way we can share custody is if I stay here for a little bit.”
I smiled as he sauntered over to me, his own mouth curved playfully into a smirk. “I see,” I whispered.
“And I want you to feel safe, Vera,” he whispered. “And I want to spend time with you. Is that okay? I’m not moving in, so don’t start writing my name next to yours in your diary, okay?”
I shook my head playfully. “The Hamilton Beauregard doesn’t do relationships, huh?”
He cupped my chin. I wore exhaustion like a second skin. The dark circles under my eyes didn’t deter him, though. He then spoke. “The Hamilton Beauregard cares only about himself about ninety-nine percent of the time. He’s selfish. Abrasive. Static. Detached. He breaks hearts without a single fuck and takes what he wants.”
I stared up at him as he spoke so poorly about himself. I thought about his best friend, Jess. I thought about the dog he rescued. I thought about Jack, a confusing man who craved a relationship with his son. I thought about his long trip here to comfort a girl he was just starting to know.
“Whatever you say,” I replied with a shake of my head. I was too tired to argue with him, and his perceptions of himself were deep-rooted. I didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself that he was bad news or me, but either way, I didn’t care.
“I’m serious, Vera.”
“So am I, Hamilton,” I replied before casually wrapping my arms around his neck and lifting up on my toes to kiss his jaw. The tender and light brush of my lips on his rough skin sent shivers down my spine. Having him here, I almost forgot about my mother’s lies and the pressures of being a Beauregard. We were all alone. No one was here to tell me that this was wrong. Saint wasn’t lurking in the corners of my apartment, looking for a story.
He cleared his throat and licked his lips, his tongue clipping my cheek in the process. Another shiver passed through me as I curled my body against his, aching to be closer. “I should get that coffee, huh?” he questioned.
“Get whatever you want,” I whispered back before running my hand through his hair and breathing him in.
He gripped my ass and pulled me closer, his movements slow and tentative. I’d never experienced this side of Hamilton. It was
