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“Hi.” It comes out as a squeak, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. This man has fucked me ten ways from Sunday, and I can’t greet him without being self-conscious? Unbelievable.
“Come here,” he says. When I remain still, he frowns. “What’s wrong? Is your injury bothering you?”
“No, I mean, yes. Wait. I need a second.” I take a deep breath and release it slowly. It does nothing to rid me of my nerves, and I give up trying. “Who’s the woman in the picture hanging on your bedroom wall?”
“Come here, and I’ll answer you.”
I lift my chin. “Answer me, and I’ll come to you.”
“Oh, you’llcomeall right.”
He stalks toward me. A tiny shriek leaves me—half excitement, half surprise—but I stand my ground with my heart thrashing in my chest. When he’s only inches away, I throw up my hands, palms facing him.
“My stitches feel tight,” I say. “Please don’t grab me.”
Hayden comes to an abrupt halt. He towers over me, staring down at me with concern etched into his features. “Instead of interrogating me about a photograph, you should’ve mentioned your discomfort.”
I shrug, and immediately regret it when the movement pulls the skin of my shoulder taut. “Well, I’m telling you now.”
“I’ll get your medication.”
“I just hate how sleepy I get when I take them.”
He does an about-face to head back into the kitchen. I sag against the wall, careful not to lean on my wound, taking a moment to catch my breath. There’s no doubt in my mind that Hayden would’ve fucked me right then if I hadn’t spoken up about my stitches paining me.
His appetite is insatiable. Although I’m not complaining, I wonder how much his need for dominance motivates it. He uses sex as a power tactic, but would he keep doing it if I gave in?
When he returns with a glass of water and pills in hand, he offers them to me. I’m quick to down the medication. “The woman in the black-and-white picture. Who is she, Hayden?”
The side of his mouth lifts. “Why is this so important to you?”
“You better not laugh at me. This is serious.”
“I’m not going to tease you about this. You can stop looking at me like you want to strangle me.” He tilts his head. “Are you jealous, Callie?”
Yes.
I scoff. “Don’t let my question inflate your already large ego. Who is she, and why is she on your bedroom wall, of all places?”
He leans down until I can see the blue of his eyes sparkling with amusement and pleasure. “It’s you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
I spin on my heel and race to the bedroom, Hayden’s laughter following me. The sound, carefree and joyous, has my heart squeezing in on itself. This is only the third time I’ve heard him laugh. I might like the dark and broody part of his personality, but this is something special.
After coming to a hard stop in front of the dresser, I stare up at the photo. I barely notice Hayden coming to stand behind me until he leans forward to place his mouth next to my ear.
“The only woman I’ll allow in this room is you.”
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “God, you are such a stalker.”
He laughs again, and I press my lips together to fight back a smile. I haven’t exactly forgiven him for that stunt, but after dealing with the nightmare from my past, Hayden is the only person that makes me feel safe. Ironic, since he scared the shit out of me in the beginning.
“I plead guilty,” he says. He drags his lips down the side of my neck, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive skin there. I shiver, evidence that my body obeys him more than it does me. “I took this picture to keep from kidnapping you.”
“Am I supposed to give you an award for that?” I huff. “How long ago was this?”
