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He grins and looks at me with a funny expression.
“What?” I ask.
“What is it about the bun that makes every woman I’m with do that as soon as I let them?”
I bite my lip and laugh. “I don’t know. It’s fun. You’re fun.”
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want to have fun. I want to forget and just enjoy this.”
“Any positions? Fantasies that have yet to be fulfilled?”
I shake my head. “Fuck me however you want, Hayes. I’m yours.”
Both of our eyes cut for a split second to where Lennox is leaning against the wall in the corner of the room—simultaneously watching us and his phone, monitoring the hallway for safety. He doesn’t react to me saying I’m Hayes’s. And he doesn’t tell us to stop. He’s going to let us fuck.
Hmmm.
Hayes turns my chin back to him. “Stop thinking of him. I want you thinking of me.”
My eyes drop down his body to his pants.
“I’m bigger,” he winks.
I laugh again. Why couldn’t I have fallen for a man who makes me laugh like him? Instead, I fell for every serious man on the face of the earth.
Then his lips are on mine, shutting up my brain because, damn, does the man know how to kiss.
He guides us back toward the bed and then drops me on my back. He flashes me his signature grin, making me laugh.
I expect him to manhandle me the way Lennox would, but instead, Hayes kneels on the floor between my legs. His hands start massaging my feet as he lands gentle kisses slowly up the inside of my legs.
I glance down at him as he inches higher. His long dark hair is a tangle of mess. His eyes pierce me through his glasses. And his grin—god, it’s the most infectious thing. I don’t know how he turns the sunshine on so easily when just a moment before he was so gloomy. He’s a hot god of sun rays, but he’s not mine, and I’m not his.
I trust him, though.
And I need this.
So I close my eyes and hope that Hayes doesn’t ask me to look at him when he fucks me.
His lips kiss my inner thigh.
I laugh as he hits a ticklish spot. I relax my legs, spreading them wider for him.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.
But his tongue flicks over my slit, and I melt into him. I keep my eyes closed, letting my body feel all the wonderful sensations flooding my body. His tongue laps over my sensitive bud again, and I lose all thought. I forget where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m doing.
His hands travel all over my body—feeling every sensitive piece of flesh. And then he lifts me to a sitting position, sits behind me, and eases me onto his lap.
He sweeps my hair to one side as he kisses my neck, and his other hand travels down the side of my breast and stomach before dipping between my legs.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I moan as his fingers circle my clit, making me even wetter.
I lean against his hard chest. He’s a warm, hard body. He’s a man I could love, but he’s not my man.
