His Command

by Sophie H. Morgan

  “No . . .”

  She stood and moved closer, eyes intent on him, all seduction as she paused an inch from his ear. “Eat it,” she purred.

  “Damn, that’s sexy.” He shook his head, a grin curving those gorgeous lips. Any hint of darkness washed away as he started forward. “I have to have you now.”

  She laughed as he lunged and tackled her to the floor.

  * * *

  The next night, Hailey summoned in her best shot at unbiased advice about casual relationships.

  “Thanks for coming over so late.” Hailey opened the door and waited for Max to walk the rest of the hall.

  “No big.” Max swept past in a black dress so tight it should’ve crushed a rib. “I didn’t have plans.”

  “Liar.” Hailey closed the door with a grateful smile. “You want something to drink?”

  “Depends. Is this going to finally be a dissection of how Genies do the nasty or something more serious?”

  Hailey got out the wine bottle she’d put in the fridge when she’d called Max over. “Bit of both.”

  “Ah.” Max wandered to the couch and plopped down. Her legs curled up beneath her regardless of how her skirt hiked up. “So where’s Q? He’s more in touch with this feminine crap than I am.”

  “Got a date with an accountant.” Hailey poured out two glasses and handed one over to Max before sitting in her chair. Unlike Max, she couldn’t relax. “Jon, remember?”

  “The one in his building he’s been banging on about for the past three weeks? Well.” A feline smile curved Max’s mouth. She toasted the absent Quentin. “Finally getting laid. Good for him.”

  “You’re such a romantic fool, Max.”

  “That’s what they tell me. All right. Enough small talk. You wanna tell me why I’m here?”

  “It’s Ryder.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Max swirled her wine. “What’s the ass done?”

  “Nothing. I just need some advice.” Hailey pressed her lips together, wondered how to phrase it. “If you were starting to, hypothetically, develop feelings for your lover—”

  Max put her glass down so fast the wine slopped over the rim. “Oh, honey, no. You can’t,” she interrupted.

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Hales. You can screw, bonk, have a rip-roaring hilarious time with your rebound guy, but you can’t chain him down—well—” She laughed, but stopped when Hailey sent her an evil-eyed glare.

  “Especially,” Max continued with a little cough, “when the guy is a gorgeous, carefree Genie.”

  “Max. Shut up. I was going to say, hypothetically, if you’d started to develop feelings for your lover, would it be time to end it?”

  Though that was the last thing Hailey wanted to do. Ever since the night before when he’d shared all his pain, she’d begun feeling way too . . . female about the whole affair. Wondering if he was feeling okay this morning, wondering what it meant that he’d told her. She didn’t want to be tangled up in feelings again only to trip and fall on her face. She wanted to have a casual fling, one with sex and laughter.

  Only now she couldn’t go back to the place where she only viewed him as a friend with benefits, and she couldn’t go forward to wanting him to be something serious. Even the idea had little butterflies of panic fluttering in her throat, making her choke.

  Damn it, this was his fault. The oversharing ass.

  Max was staring at her curiously. “You want to end the affair?”

  “No.” The response was a little sour. “But he won’t play by my rules.”

  “Rules?” When Hailey outlined them, Max hooted with laughter. “Hales, you take the cake and the cake stand. You told him this?”

  “I wanted to be clear.”

  “Uh-huh.” Humor shined in her gaze. “And he won’t play by them now?”

  “No. He keeps bringing up his past and making me feel all gooey for him, and he’s sweet about Ethan and he makes me feel so good. It’s not funny, Max,” Hailey said, exasperated as her friend started to snicker. “This was meant to be my reckless, I-know-it’s-going-nowhere-but-damn-it-feels-good thing. Now it feels more complicated.”

  “Because he shared some stuff?” Max snorted. “Oldest trick in the book. Guy pours on the sob story and woman falls over herself to perform and make him feel happy. Did you go down on him?”

  The heat turned up one hundred degrees. “I’m not answering that.”

  “So you did.” A lift of her shoulder. “We all fall for it.”

  “He wasn’t telling me about a pet dog that died, Max. It was intimate stuff.”

  “Hales, what do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared at her friend in frustration. “I’m so torn. On one hand, there’s this great guy and we have hot sex and he makes me laugh. He pushes me to try new things and makes me feel braver, bolder than I am.” Her feet knocked together, the heels clicking. “On the other, there’s this great guy that I’m starting to look at as more than a hot body. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “No,” Max agreed, all too fast for Hailey’s liking. “He’s meant to be your rebound guy. You don’t get involved with your rebound guy. Okay, so he can flash you anywhere in the world, has the body of a god, and actually treats you decently . . .” She stopped, brow crinkled. “Where was I?”

  Hailey punched her friend on the arm, a frustrated laugh slipping free. “Would you be serious? I need help here.”

  “I’ll say.” Max warded off another punch with a twist to her lips. “Okay, okay. Look, the way I look at it, you can either run, or come clean and tell Ryder he needs to step up or step out.”

  As if a cold finger ran down her spine, Hailey sat up straighter. “Step up to what, though? I don’t want to step up. I want to carry on as we were.”

  “Then carry on, you idiot. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

  Because sometimes, when Ryder looked at her in a certain way, or when his arm tightened around her in bed before they went to sleep, or when he texted her a stupid selfie, she wondered if having a few more strings might not be such a bad thing. And that scared the hell out of her. No way was she ready for a RELATIONSHIP (full capitals for the seriousness of the word). If only there was a pit stop on the way from Fling-town to Relationship-ville.

  “Look,” Max said, taking one of Hailey’s hands and squeezing. “My advice? Don’t freak out over a couple of mushy feelings. So the guy shared something. Big whoop. He’ll still leave his dirty socks in the bed, his wet towel on the floor. Use that hot body for sex and fun, and leave the emotions out of it.”

  If only it were that easy.

  25.

  Hailey passed the next couple of days in indecision. Luckily, work was always there and with weekend weddings happening, she had lists aplenty to keep her occupied. She’d told Ryder she was busy with weddings and that she’d call him when she had a chance. His offer to help her out made her feel worse, but she needed time to think so had told him she worked better alone.

  She needed time to figure out what she wanted.

  All she knew was what she didn’t want. She didn’t want the standard Saturday night dinner-and-a-movie date. She didn’t want sex three point five times a week, every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday per routine. She didn’t want to have to explain why she had to miss another of his work functions because she had a wedding or a dinner or something else related to work and feel guilt when he looked disappointed. She didn’t want to have to strive to make him feel like “the man” after ten hours of running around, getting him a beer and listening as he spoke about himself for five hours before falling asleep in front of the news.

  She wanted . . . passion. Her way, of course, but still. Hot sex in the shower or on the couch or on the kitchen table without worrying how his day had been. She wanted to have a beer in a bar, playing pool for items of clothing, without worrying where they were going as a couple.

  But . . . she couldn’t deny she loved
listening about Ryder’s day, laughing with him at a wish he’d granted or something his Handler had done. She enjoyed snuggling with him on the couch, a book in her hand as he watched baseball with irritated commentary. The quiet moments or the loud, the times he’d say something that made her heart almost thump out of her chest or the looks he’d shoot her that curled her toes. Sometimes even the way he brushed her hair back from her face.

  The rules weren’t working anymore. Although she hated this growing need to have him with her, the quiet joy when he was overwhelmed the loud voice in her head telling her to run.

  She didn’t know what to do, but casual was no longer working for her.

  Instead of heading home that Friday night, she hit Lullaby with Quentin and Max, ready to hear the scoop on Quentin’s second date with Jon and forget all the question marks dangling over a certain dark-haired, brown-eyed Genie.

  They’d ordered a second round when the crowd surrounding the bar all turned to one another and flapped like crazed birds. Only one thing could do that. A celebrity or a Genie.

  Damn, was it wrong that she was hoping for Johnny Depp?

  A decision about Ryder had yet to be made, her heart and her head tugging rope back and forth. Take a risk? Keep the status quo? Or get out now?

  She put a stranglehold on her martini glass. “Who is it?”

  Quentin peered over at the dense mob, half-standing from his seat. Very subtle. “Can’t tell. Maybe Hemsworth.”

  “Which one?”

  “Either. Both are hot.” He grinned, smug happiness dancing. “Though nothing compares to Jon, of course.”

  Max mimed being sick and got a napkin in the face. She shoved it off and tapped Hailey’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “C’mon, Hales. It’d be a major coinkidink for Ryder to come to the same place as us.”

  “I came here with him before.”

  “So? I’ve been to loads of places in this city before. Doesn’t mean I’d go back.”

  “She doesn’t need to know about your one nighters right now.” Quentin ignored Max’s suggestive gesture and stirred his rum and Coke with a straw. His brow furrowed as he stared at Hailey. “Anyway, even if it is him, what’s the harm?”

  “I don’t know what to do yet.”

  “And you have to decide now?”

  “You sound like Max.”

  “You asked her for advice?” Quentin looked appalled. “Why?”

  “Because I have so much experience with romance,” Max drawled, an arm across the back of the booth. Her cleavage sparkled as a light caught her necklace. As she’d said before, she liked to draw attention there.

  Quentin only shook his head at her, then turned to Hailey. “Hales, listen to the real expert. You’re having fun. Don’t overthink.”

  That was like telling her not to check her lipstick before she left the house. She couldn’t help it.

  “But . . .” She hesitated, then went for broke. “What if I’ve already done the stupid thing and care about him? Which I don’t. Obvs.”

  “Caring’s bad?”

  “Caring is like a noose you hang yourself on.” Her shoulders slumped as she brooded into her martini. “What can I say? ‘Ryder, I want to be casual, but I care more than I should and that terrifies me because I don’t feel like I can end this now.’”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to finish things either. Maybe he’s thinking the same as you.”

  “Q, I don’t even know what I’m thinking.” She sighed. “I can’t end things with him and I don’t want to move to the next step. Why can’t there be some kind of nice in-between, where he’s not my ‘boyfriend’”—she used heavy finger quotes—“but he’s more than a fling? Just a few strings so I know I can plan on a Saturday night date or keep beer in my fridge without feeling like a loser. And just a little exclusivity,” she added, thinking back to when she’d mistaken Leo for him with the brunette and had blown a gasket.

  “You don’t know until you ask.”

  Ever the optimist. “I think he’d echo Ethan and make a hole in the wall.”

  Quentin slung an arm around her dejected shoulders, squeezed. “In that case, I’d beat him up for you.”

  Max snorted so hard, she choked on her beer.

  Quentin shot her a withering stare, dropping his arm from Hailey’s shoulders. “I could take him.”

  “On a miniature golf course, sure, but have you seen the size of his muscles? He could rope calves or something. Plus there’s the . . .” Max wiggled her fingers.

  “Well, he might be all brawn, but I have the brain.” Quentin sat tall in his shirt and bowtie, his trousers ironed perfectly. “When it comes to strategy, I’d have the upper hand.”

  “Until he punched you out with one blow.”

  As her friends bickered, Hailey fidgeted on the seat. The hubbub around the bar grew thicker. She swore the word Genie was whispered.

  She couldn’t do it. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

  She scuttled off before her friends could speak, threading through the crowd, head down. Tendrils of something related to panic sparked her heart.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be him, she tried to reassure herself, edging around an obnoxious blonde in a playsuit. Maybe she wouldn’t have to decide right—

  Oh, God, there he was by the bar.

  She froze in her step, glued to how the ceiling lights shone down on his hair, loose today and more gorgeous for it. She knew those arms, those hands, that crooked smile.

  Sheer want locked around her throat, holding her to the spot.

  Damn it.

  Her heart crowded her throat as she whirled into action. She’d give herself a talk in the bathroom mirror and finally settle on insanity. At least she could eat ice cream in a loony bin and nobody would mind when she made lists about everything from how to spend her day to getting around the guards.

  “Oomph.” She bounced back from a hard body she hadn’t seen because of her truly crazy thoughts.

  Someone steadied her with a hand around her upper arm. “Sorry, didn’t see you,” a familiar voice said.

  Her heart bashed her rib cage. She shouldn’t be surprised; she knew how fast he could move.

  Act normal.

  Or as normal as you can.

  Hailey tilted her head up, waiting for the impact of those brown eyes, the melting strands of amber. But . . .

  Her stomach relaxed from its knot. “You’re not Ryder.”

  “And you’re not Kate Beckinsale,” the man who wore Ryder’s face said. “Shame. I’ve got a real thing for British accents.”

  “Leo.” It was kicking in now, neurons firing. “Ryder’s twin.”

  “And you’re Hailey.”

  She blinked, surprised. “You know who I am?”

  “I’m such a devoted follower of the Star, I can’t even tell you.” He grinned and shrugged. “And my brother might have mentioned you.”

  She smiled and crossed her arms awkwardly. But did he mention where he stood on casual versus a little more?

  Yeah . . . don’t ask that.

  He was staring at her and she realized she hadn’t replied. “It’s, ah, nice to meet you.”

  “Same. I’ve been wanting to meet the woman who’s got Ryder all in a tangle.”

  Her ears perked up. “He said that?”

  “No, and do you know how frustrating that is? Ry usually tells me everything about his women.”

  Boy, she couldn’t begin to say how much she loved being classed as one of “Ryder’s women.” About as much as she would like being forced to watch endless episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

  “Let’s get a drink.” Leo took her arm before she could escape and steered her toward the bar, even as she protested. Everything about him was the same as Ryder, his nose, his lips, the color of his hair, though it was cut shorter than Ryder’s mop. But he had a more studious air to him, a more elegant look and feel to how he moved. Not to mention the shirt and tie he was wearing.

  He definitel
y had the same determination to get what he wanted though as he kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way across the floor, not giving her time to pull a runaway bridal planner.

  “Lookee who I found, bro,” Leo announced as they approached both the bar and an achingly familiar back.

  Ryder turned. When he saw her, a grin lit up his face, a grin that melted her knees. “Hmm,” he said, tilting his head. “She looks familiar, but it’s been so long. Maybe if she twirls for me?”

  Hailey raised her eyebrows. Her knees stiffened as she cast him a sour glance.

  “Now that look I definitely remember.” His grin widened as he straightened from his position against the bar. “How’ve you been?”

  “Peachy.”

  What a great moment to say that for the first time.

  He looked as if he was struggling not to laugh. “Good to know.” He leaned in.

  He was going to kiss her. She couldn’t remember her own name when he kissed her, let alone keep her thoughts straight.

  She panicked and jerked back.

  Unfortunately, she was wearing the cursed three-inch heels.

  Also unfortunate was the drunk dude who’d spilled his beer all over the floor behind her.

  Her arms windmilled as she skated on a layer of foam until an energy field wrapped around her like a lasso. She steadied and was tugged forward toward Ryder.

  He tutted as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Maybe it is time to get rid of those shoes.”

  * * *

  Ryder smiled into Hailey’s face. She wore an odd expression, like a kid who got caught helping herself to wine coolers out of the fridge.

  He’d missed her.

  “Got all your work stuff done then?” He flipped some cash onto the bar as the round of whiskey he’d ordered for him and Leo arrived.

  “Uh, yeah.” She eased out of his hold and clasped her arms in front of her, emphasizing the dipped V of her cami.

  Amazing how he could still want her this much. Guess the old saying must have been true: absence did make the heart grow fonder.

  His gaze traced her face. She had shadows under her eyes. She must have missed him, too.

  Pleased, he handed over the whiskey to his twin. “Small city, huh?”