Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“He’s not a virgin,” Imani scoffs. “His brothers have plowed their way across most of the campus. He has to be keeping up, doesn’t he?”
Hayes touches the back of his cap, adjusting it so he can talk to the barista. He places his order, taps his card to pay, and steps back from the counter, standing on relaxed, spread legs that inexplicably make me think about the dirtiest kind of fucking; standing, back against the wall, those strong legs and muscled arms supporting my weight while he digs hard and deep between my thighs.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “I mean, look at him.”
“I’d lick it.” Katerina’s tongue slides along the underside of her top lip lasciviously.
“Seriously?” I ask. “I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Katerina’s mom is Greek, and it’s left Katerina with a thing for the Mediterranean-looking dudes on campus. Italians, Greeks, Lebanese. If they’re olive-skinned and dark-haired, Katerina is all over them like humus on a flatbread.
“Generally, he wouldn’t be,” she says. “But Hayes Drayton is intriguing. He gives nothing away.”
“He’s probably into some kinky shit,” Imani says behind a cupped hand. “Like bondage… maybe sex clubs. Secretive debauched sex.”
“He’s not some twisted billionaire with dark predilections from your romance novels. Look at him. He’s more cinnamon roll than whiskey on the rocks.” Although the way he’d relished the Scotch I offered him last night suggests something else. He has a fine palate. Good taste for someone so young.
“He’s more like steak and a baked potato.” Katerina eyes Hayes’ ass like she’s ravenous, and a sliver of jealousy snakes through me.
Stupid.
He’s not mine. Not by a long shot. And I don’t want him to be. But a green, unpleasant part of me doesn’t want him to be anyone else’s, either. What the hell is that about?
I’m questioning myself as he turns holding a large cup, his ocean blue eyes falling on me like a weighted blanket. My traitorous heart rolls over in a huge flopping motion, and my throat makes a weird gulping sound. In a split second, a whole range of emotions travels over his face. Shock, recognition, confusion, uncertainty. His step falters, and he freezes; then, coming back to life, he notices Imani and Katerina and remembers where he is.
When he keeps walking, I exhale, half relieved, half disappointed, turning to Katerina to disagree with her comment about steak and potatoes. But just as I open my mouth, a huge shadow engulfs me from the right. I sense his presence before I see him, the warmth and strength of a man’s body at the peak of his physical capabilities. His low-level vibration triggers the tiny hairs on my arms to stand and a skitter of anticipation to descend my spine.
All three of us turn as Hayes stands motionless next to our table, his mouth trying to form words that won’t break free.
“Hayes,” Imani says out of kindness. “How are you?”
“Good,” he says, clipped. “Good. Riley, can I talk to you?”
“I’m having coffee with my friends,” I say.
He looks between us again, his intense eyes shadowed beneath his ball cap and his long, long lashes.
“It won’t take long.”
“It’s fine,” Katerina pipes up. “We’ll wait for you.”
I turn to her with a wide-eyed, pointed stare, hoping she’ll catch on that I was using her as an excuse. But no—she’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary, fully aware and absolutely choosing to throw me under the bus anyway. I stand, like a kid called out of class by the principal. The chair scrapes along the floor, and Hayes steps back to give me room. I grab my coat from the back of my chair because it’s colder than last night, and there’s no way I’m accepting another sweater from this guy, no matter how appealing the idea of being surrounded by his scent and warmth might be to my crazy man-starved brain.
He leads the way out of the coffee shop as I shove my arms into the sleeves and gather the warm woolen fabric around me.
It’s quiet outside the coffee shop, too, but even so, Hayes glances in both directions. Is he worried about us being seen together? He wasn’t worried at the party. He claimed me as his without a second thought. So, what’s changed?
“Riley.” He says my name in a slow, rumbling way that’s laced with unfamiliarity. In the years we’ve been separated, his tongue has forgotten the shape of it. And with new depth to his voice, it’s harder to link the old Hayes with the new.
“Hayes.” I raise my eyebrows expectantly. This is his show. I’m not leading him down a path of reconciliation or whatever he hopes to get out of this interaction.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Us?”
“Tell you what? That I’m some girl you used to know before you grew hair on your chin.”