by Tania Joyce
“More problems wouldn’t be good.” He tilted his head, breathed her in. The room temperature soared higher and higher. “Things are weird between us as it is.”
She clutched onto his collar, tried to pull him closer, but he resisted. “You’re right. It’d be a big mistake.”
“A huge mistake.” There was less than an eighth of an inch between their lips. Not to mention between his crotch and her panties.
“Uh-huh.”
He brushed the tip of his nose along the edge of hers. “Want to stop?”
“No.”
He could do this. Just a kiss. Another taste. Another memory to add to his dreams about her. Shit. The sweet scent of wine on her mouth was like an addictive drug, and he wanted to take a hit. Just one.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to hers. Lightly. Gently. Softly. He lingered . . . for just a few seconds.
He pulled away.
Lord, send me to Hell now. I’ll die a happy man.
He drew in a slow, deep breath. “That okay?”
She nodded, smiled, then shook her head. “No. It was terrible. Try again.”
She pulled his mouth to hers and his head spun. His pulse drummed as loud as a taiko in his ears. This time, there was no tension in her lips, no rigid posture. Just soft, full, delicious kisses. He wasn’t going to rush this. He’d go at her pace. Respond to her. But his body didn’t want to listen. He needed more.
Parting his lips, he flicked his tongue, teasing her open mouth. There was no hesitation from her, no resistance. She kissed him back, hot, fiery and fierce. A guttural moan growled deep in his throat. Now this was how he’d wanted their first kiss to be. He slid his arm behind her back, pulled her against him and kissed her harder.
“Hayden,” she whispered against his lips.
“Yeah?”
“More.” She wrapped her ankle around his ass and nudged his body to hers. Her dress rode higher and higher. She wriggled, driving the zipper of his trousers and his growing hard-on against her exposed panties.
Holy fuck. This was way more than he’d anticipated. But after last time, he wasn’t going to fuck this up. Just kiss her. But damn . . . he thrust his groin against her. He wanted more friction. More of her.
No. Idiot. Don’t blow it.
She moaned, and a jolt of fire surged through his dick. He trailed a line of kisses down her neck. Her skin blazed beneath his mouth. Her floral perfume filled his head. After her telling him she didn’t have feelings for him, he’d never dreamed he’d end up kissing her like this. He glided his hand up her bare thigh, so silky and smooth, and clutched onto a fistful of her skirt scrunched around her hips. His fingers twitched, wanting to slide sideways, rub over her panties and slip underneath the fabric. Touch her. Feel her hot sleekness. Make her soaking wet. The heat near his dick confirmed she already was. But he didn’t want to push her too fast. This agonizing heaven was bliss. Needing to absorb her into every cell of his body, he snaked his hand behind her, clutched her ass and held her tighter.
“So good.” She panted over their kisses, tipping her crotch into his and digging her nails into his shoulders.
His dick ached. He’d gotten so hard, there was no way he could disguise his erection. Bulging, throbbing, burning. She seemed to like it. He wasn’t going to complain. But if they didn’t slow down, if they didn’t stop soon, he was going to come in his pants like a teenager, or tear off her panties and fuck her there on the counter, hard and fast.
Soon. I’ll stop soon . . .
Kissing, sucking and tasting her top lip, bottom lip, and licking into her mouth, he savored her. It was hard to stay in control when her tongue lashed against his, begging for more. The sweetness of the wine they’d drunk fueled the fire surging to every extremity of his body.
Her hands roamed over his shoulders, drove through his hair and snaked around his waist. She slipped them underneath his shirt and dug her fingers into his lower back. Her touch was an ice pack to his fevered skin. Closing his eyes, he pressed his hard-on against her. God, he wanted to bury himself inside her. It took all his willpower not to let his hands wander—to her breasts, to her panties, to strip off her clothes.
She kissed him so deep a groan escaped his mouth. Her knees gripped harder onto his sides. Her breath panted; her thighs tensed. She pulsed and ground her crotch against him.
Fuck.
She shuddered in his embrace. A whimper escaped her lips.
Shit. Had he gone too far?
She shoved against his shoulders, forcing him back.
“Lex? What?”
The color drained from her face. “Fuck!” Her eyes welled with tears. Her hand shot over her mouth. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” She leaped off the counter, rushed from the bathroom and ran.
“Lexi.” He dashed after her. But she slammed the bedroom door in his face. “Wait.” He slapped his palm against the timber over and over, and tried the handle but it was locked. “What’s wrong?”
“Please, Hayds. Leave me alone.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He thumped his forehead against the door. “Please? Let me in. Can we talk? Please?”
“Go away.” Her muffled sob ripped through his ribs. “Just go.”
His heart screamed. What the fuck? Another kiss gone wrong. But it’d felt so right. So good. Too good. His raging hard-on proved it. Was that what was wrong with Lexi? She did want more and was too afraid to let go? Thought it was another mistake? God, she was doing his head in.
He leaned forward and banged his forehead against the door again. “Lex. Please forgive me. It was just a kiss.”
Alcohol blurred his vision. He clutched his dick to ease the tension. His trousers were damp . . . and it wasn’t from him. She’d been so turned on. So hot. And that shudder. Oh shit . . . had she orgasmed?
Damn!
He’d never dry-humped anyone to an orgasm. That was a first. Wow. But before his own balls exploded, he needed to take a shower.
“Lex, I’ll be in my room if you need me. We’re cool, I promise.”
Adjusting the bulge in his pants, he staggered down the hallway to his bedroom. That kiss had been amazing. Her body had responded to his, begged to get closer, and she’d craved his touch, his dick. That was no normal kiss.
It was freaking hot.
But he’d gone too far. Hurt her.
Idiot.
When was he going to learn?
Kissing her had been a huge mistake. He’d rattled her too fucking much.
How the hell was he going to fix this?
Chapter 8
After waking late the following morning, Lexi rugged up in sweatpants and a hoodie and slipped on a pair of socks. Clutching her cell phone to her chest, she held her breath and tiptoed past the open door to Hayden’s bedroom. Please don’t be awake. Don’t be in there. I’m not ready to talk about last night.
She snuck a peek inside. His bed was empty. Phew! She could breathe easier . . . for now. She didn’t have to face him . . . yet.
As she headed downstairs to the kitchen, soft muffled music—guitars, bass and drums—drifted up from the home studio on the lower basement level. Gemma and the guys were jamming. At ten o’clock? That was early, considering she’d heard them come home at three-thirty a.m. Hayden would be with them. Good. It gave her more time to try and make sense of last night. How could she ever look him in the eyes again?
At the restaurant, it had taken a couple of drinks to flush away the flurry of emotions tearing at her insides every time she’d looked at him, and help her not dwell on his move to Boston. They’d had a great dinner. Everything was like old times—the teasing, the banter, the laughs. A bottle of champagne. A few bottles of wine . . . and then they’d kissed. Again.
It had been her mistake.
Would he accept her plea of temporary insanity?
But that kiss.
Curiosity to see if there was some untapped magic betw
een them had gotten out of control.
She couldn't remember the last time she’d kissed someone like that, where the impact had lingered. It scared the crap out of her. Since Quintin left her, she’d avoided affection. Being with a man was purely physical, with no emotional connection. But Hayden had melted her insides like chocolate fondue.
Recalling what had happened, the place between her legs clenched. Resting her palms on the kitchen counter, she closed her eyes. She’d gotten off grinding against his dick. What the fuck was wrong with her?
This was a new level of humiliation.
She shouldn’t have drunk so much. When he’d stood before her, touching her, undoing her hair, a fiery rush had struck every nerve in her body. She’d wanted to kiss him. Needed to kiss him. She’d never desired him before. Not ever. It was like he knew exactly how to kiss her, hold her, drive her crazy. But things had gone too far. Her lack of sex lately didn’t help. But fuck. She’d gotten off on his cock!
Mortification plagued her. Was there any chance he hadn’t noticed? Would he think her kissing him had changed her feelings toward him? It had . . . but not in a good way. The cocktail of shame and sentiment, regret and regard, concern and curiosity that Hayden had stirred and shaken petrified her. She couldn’t let her guard down again. She needed to stay strong and focused, and refused to tear the vacuum seal around her heart for Hayden. Not when he was leaving. Not even if he stayed.
Her cell phone vibrated on the countertop. She glanced at the caller ID. It was her boss. Ergh. She swiped the screen. “Hello Chase, what’s up?”
“Alexandra.” Chase cleared his throat. “I’m glad you made it to LA safely.”
“Um . . . yes, thank you.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to erase her mild hangover. “I did my first review last night. You’ll have my article by close of business tomorrow.”
“I know I can always count on you.” The subtle flirtatiousness in his voice sent a shudder down her spine. “Don’t want you to enjoy too much warm, winter sunshine or take too many sunset strolls along the beach.”
“I’m not. I have three other reviews already booked. I’ll make more reservations today.” Crap. She really needed to pull her finger out. She’d gotten sidetracked with Gemma yesterday, taking photos. Work had taken a back seat.
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sorry to do this, but please cancel your plans. I need you back here to report on this weekend’s Bryant Park Food and Wine Festival. We’ll go to the gala dinner, the food-stall sampling and the wine-tasting events.”
Go with Chase? No, thanks. “I’m not a senior editor. Why not take Lanie or Diego?”
“They’re on assignments. The other editors are on publication deadlines. Your submitted articles are already approved. This festival will be a great experience for you. I’ll book your return flight for today so you’re here, rested up, and ready for the first function on Friday night.”
“But I’ve only been here a couple days. What happened to two weeks? I’ve got a review this Friday. I’ve got plans this weekend with my friends.” Shit. She shouldn’t have told her boss she was socializing when she should be working.
“You can hang out with your friends any time, but you work for me. I need you back here asap.”
She drove the palm of her hand into her bleary eyes. The potential promotion lobbed her in the back of her head. She shouldn’t argue with her boss. She needed that new job so she didn’t have to find a new roommate.
Although she hated her trip being cut short, it did have its advantages. She’d have time away from Hayden, like she’d originally planned. She’d have a week and a half to herself. Her gut cinched, flinching her forward. She rubbed her hand against her belly button. The empty ache deep inside was new. When Everhide traveled, Hayden was always at home with her. Soon, he wouldn’t be there. She had to get used to it if she wanted to live by herself. No new roommate would ever be able to replace Hayden. This early return home would be an ideal practice run for when he moved to Boston. Give her the opportunity to pull her ridiculous emotions into check. They’d grown more overwhelming and crazier each day since they’d first kissed. Friends didn’t fuck with each other.
Well . . . what was one orgasm between friends?
So. Not. Good.
“Lexi?” Chase dragged her from her thoughts. “You there?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine,” Lexi mumbled. “Book a flight for some time after lunch.”
“Done,” Chase said. “I’ll get the girls in admin to email through your itinerary.”
“Thanks.” She hung up and stared across the dining area out toward the pool.
Crap. She had to cancel her restaurant reservations and pack. No point dawdling. She’d better go tell her friends she had to leave. While she was at it, she’d take it as an opportunity to shoot one last round of photos of them.
She looked around for her camera, swore she’d left it on the dining table. Staggering around the table, she searched each chair. Not here. She headed across the room and found it on the sofa. She didn’t remember putting it there.
Taking the Canon out of its bag, she headed down to the studio. The muffle of guitars, piano and the steady beat of the drums filled the air. Lexi walked up to the heavy wooden door and peered through the glass panel. Gemma sat cross-legged on the floor with her electric guitar in her lap and was singing too quietly for Lexi to make out the lyrics. Kyle stood beside her, plucking his bass. Hunter sat at the keyboard, his fingers gliding over the ivory keys. Hayden was at the drums. She couldn’t see any sign of Kara; she was probably out shopping.
Lexi’s gaze was drawn back to Hayden. Total contentment lit his face, the sticks striking the tom-toms at speed. He hadn’t looked that happy and relaxed when he played with his band for months.
She hated interrupting their session and really didn’t want to confront Hayden.
Would he cause a scene in front of their friends? Tease her?
If he did, she’d deserve it.
Get this over with, you fool.
She snuck in the door and pointed her camera at Gemma. Gemma smiled at her and kept strumming her guitar. These were the shots Lexi loved taking of her friends. When they were playing, being natural, being themselves. Without the media and millions of fans watching them. She took photo after photo of Gemma, Hunter and Kyle. Then she turned to Hayden.
He stared down the lens. A frenzy of butterflies swirled above the thick pool of molasses lurking at the bottom of her gut. She took a deep breath and refocused her camera. The viewfinder grid framed his face. The happiness that had lit his eyes moments ago disappeared, replaced by gray clouds of concern.
Kissing him flickered through her mind, replaying every second in highspeed sports mode. The Canon trembled in her hands. Her palms turned clammy. Her cheeks felt as hot as a teppanyaki grill.
With drumsticks in hand, he half-rose from his stool. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Her voice squeaked as she held up her palm. “Don’t get up.”
He lowered back to the stool; a deep furrow etched his brow.
Gemma ripped out a killer riff on her guitar, then stilled her strings. “What’s up?”
Lexi lowered her camera and spun to face Gemma. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I came to tell you I have to go home. My boss needs me to work at the Bryant Park Food and Wine Festival this weekend. The other editors are on assignment. I’ve gotta leave in a few hours.”
“That sucks.” Gemma slapped her hand against her strings. The reverberations smacked through the amp. “We have two free days and I wanted to hang out.”
“Me too.” Lexi sighed, switching off her camera. “But I gotta go.”
“Fuck.” Hayden beat the bass drum. He wiped his hand over his face. Desperation swirled in his eyes. “But you’ve only been here a couple days.”
“I know.” Lowering her chin, she let her hair curtain her face. Anything to avoid looking at him. “But with a promotion on the line, I need to stay in my boss’
s good books.”
Gemma jumped to her feet and gave her a hug. “I feel bad we haven’t spent much time together.” She leaned in to whisper in her ear, “At least you’ll get a few days away from Hayds. How’s it working out?”
“Not good,” Lexi murmured, tears burning at the back of her eyes. “It’s more fucked up than ever.” She didn’t have time to tell Gemma about what had happened last night. She’d call and spill later.
“It’ll be okay.” Gemma smoothed her hand up and down Lexi’s arm. “Hey.” Her voice scaled up. “Hayds showed me the photos you took yesterday day at the fitting.”
So that was why her camera hadn’t been on the table. “Oh . . . they’re nothing.”
“Nothing? Are you kidding?” Gemma’s voice swung with the same level of excitement she’d had when she saw the wedding photos Lexi had taken. “Can you send them to me? I want to show Kate.”
“Really?” Lexi wrinkled her nose. Kate, Everhide’s publicist, was the gatekeeper, dictator and freakishly amazing manager of their public image. Excluding the gossip mongers and paparazzi, nothing went to the media, no interview was given, no photo was taken, and no word was written about Everhide without her approval.
“Yeah.” Gemma play-punched Lexi in the arm. “I’d love to use some of them, post them to our public Instagram.”
Hooking the camera strap over her arm, Lexi’s eyes widened. “You want to post my photos? To your fans?”
“Yes. They’re awesome.” Gemma pointed to the camera hanging at Lexi’s side. “Must be that beast you bought to use for our wedding. The shots are amazing.”
“O-kay.” Lexi’s heartbeat danced in circles. “I’ll email you the link.” Wow. She’d be beyond thrilled if Gemma selected even one of her photos to post. In the years she’d known her, she’d never been asked to do something like this. Gemma and the guys had shared the odd photo of hers on their private social accounts with their close circle of friends but had never released them out to the public. Damn. Maybe this new camera had been worth the six-thousand-dollar investment.