“You’re not having all the fun without me, are you?”
Hayes couldn’t find the strength to drop his hand. Fuck no. He stroked himself a little faster as she slipped into the bathroom and slowly removed her clothes before coming into the shower. Her soft blond hair rested along the curves of her breasts, her small dark nipples puckered, begging for his mouth. He fought to find logic. To remember the reason having her again was a bad idea, but he couldn’t acknowledge a single thing but the hot raging need burning through him. Still, he shook with the building tension and admitted, “I’m trying very hard not to touch you again.”
“Hmmm.” She stepped closer, and he slid his hands over her backside as she pressed all of her incredible curves against him. “Does this make it harder not to touch me?”
His cock twitched against her stomach, and he grinned. “It makes something harder.”
Her cheeks flushed as she took a step back and licked her lips, taking in his hardened length. The hunger on her face could make him come alone, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d finish that fast. He needed this. Needed her. Her hooded eyes finally lifted to his face again and entranced him as she slowly lowered to her knees, taking his cock in her hands.
“How about now, Hayes?” she rasped, tearing him apart with those beautiful eyes. “Do you want me to touch you?”
He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Fuck, yeah.”
With the spray of the shower beating at his back, she slowly took him in, dragging her lips across him before she twirled her tongue around the tip. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, he tossed his head back and moaned. The water soaked his face and ran down his chest to where she played, caressing him with long, slow strokes while her mouth followed.
And she didn’t stop, not for a second, not until she had him moaning and trembling and about ready to fucking blow.
Only then did she gently drag her teeth along his shaft. He shuddered, and she laughed huskily. “You like that, huh?”
“I like everything you do to me,” he growled, and her squeal of laughter echoed in the shower when he gathered her in his arms. He quickly hit the faucet, turning off the shower.
Soaking wet, and not caring, he had them out of the bathroom and back in the bedroom, where he’d noticed she’d already pulled back the bedspread, leaving only the sheets, as well as a condom.
She laughed again when he tossed her onto the bed, tummy down. Staring at her round bottom, her body available to him, he reached for the condom and sheathed himself. He kissed the dimples on her bottom before sliding his tongue up her spine until he reached her neck. “I like you like this.” She tilted her head and he nipped her shoulder before running kisses up to her ear. “Waiting for me.” He smiled when her fingers dug into the bedsheets. He understood that uncontrollable need. Fuck, he felt it too. Every day for the last few months. Urgent to possess her, he rose enough only to enter her before covering her body with his again. Heat and passion fueled his thrusts, but the friendship between them was how he knew this body, understood her soul. And with every moan she gave, every movement mirrored, meeting him thrust for thrust, they went to a place where no one else could take them. A place that was theirs.
And yet…and yet…it still wasn’t enough. Needing to get closer, he slid his arms up the bed until he had his fingers threaded with hers. Her breath grew ragged with his hard, slapping thrusts. Wanting more, needing everything, he moved harder and faster, skin smacking against skin. Sweat coating his body as the musky scent of their sex infused the air. Her scent. Maisie. Her sweet body under his, he squeezed his arms tighter, wanting to shield her from a cruel world. He moved faster, wanting her to get there. Harder. And harder yet. To see her fall apart, let go of everything all because she trusted him.
When she got there, he did too.
He went near cross-eyed as she clamped around him with her climax. Her screams of pleasure taking any control he had left. Only then did he give in to his body’s demands and came with a roar and a shudder.
When he finally found the strength to move, he slid off her, onto his back, trying to catch his breath.
“Question,” Maisie said, breathless. “Why were you trying not to touch me before?”
/> Hayes blew out a slow breath and then turned his head, catching her soft, curious eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her smile was slow and totally Maisie. Confident, and a little sassy too. “Nothing about that hurt, Hayes.” Her smile fell, brows drew together. “Besides, you couldn’t hurt me. I trust you.”
He glanced back up to the popcorn ceiling and shut his eyes. The heat left his body in a rush, the silence ripping into him. She was wrong. Hayes had hurt her. He broke her world apart, removed a part of her soul.
Hayes couldn’t remember the drive to Maisie’s house from Denver. Or even knocking on the door very late into the night. He only remembered one thing. The moment the light went out in her eyes. He couldn’t even recall what he’d told her, or if he’d been gentle about relaying the message about Laurel’s death. He could only watch as her knees took the brunt of her fall, the vomit flew from her mouth, landing in a pile on the hardwood. Hayes went to reach for Maisie, but his feet would not take him there. His soul frozen in such a state, he could not even think of what to do next. The only thing he’d known was he needed to come and tell Maisie what happened to Laurel before she saw the murder on the news.
“No!” she screamed.
Hayes was meant to protect. To defend. He failed Laurel, and he failed Maisie too. Her screams echoed around him, the tears that should rain down his cheeks were stuck somewhere deep inside him.
“Hayes.”
Hands suddenly gripped him, shaking him. “What happened?”
He blinked, realizing Clara stood in front of him. “Laurel’s dead,” he said, but his voice didn’t sound like his own.
“No,” Maisie screamed again. “No. No. Laurel. No.”
Hayes wobbled on his feet, his skin feeling too hot and too cold all at once. But then his gaze fell to the stairs. Clara’s son, Mason, stood on the stairs, crying. Clara released Maisie and ran for her son. Slowly, as if time no longer existed, Hayes looked down at Maisie. Amelia hugged her tight, holding her in the way Hayes should have. Laurel would have wanted that. Laurel would be worried about her.
Laurel…