Hayden cupped the back of my neck in one hand as I undid his belt. Then I flicked open the top button of his pants with my thumb and tugged the zipper down. He caught my wrist with his other hand as he kissed me.
When he pulled away, his eyes burned into me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” I answered breathlessly, without thinking. I nodded to show him how eager I was. “Yes. But it’s still not a date. Got it?”
The corner of his mouth curled upward. “Got it.”
I went back to working to get his pants off.
Hayden pushed me backward until my lower back hit one of the aluminum counters. He brushed my hair off my face and nipped at my lips. Then his hands fell to the top of my shirt, and ever so slowly, he began unbuttoning my blouse. One button popped open after the other. Cool air grazed my skin. My white lace bra was exposed by the time he got to the second to last button. He pinched it open and then slid his hand inside my shirt to rest it on my bare waist.
I shivered at his touch.
A familiar pressure started building below my belly. It had been a long time since I’d felt something so intense, and I was beginning to worry about what I was getting myself into. Was I ready to show a man this much of me? It was easier when you were both drunk. Insecurity and caution were thrown to the wind, and it was easy to follow your inhibitions.
But this?
This raw, needy, desperate feeling tightening inside me was so intense that I worried my release would be too… wild.
Hayden’s other hand slipped inside my shirt. His fingers grazed my skin as he reached behind my back and undid my bra. The straps slid from my shoulders, but everything stayed in place because it was caught in my blouse sleeves.
Hayden saw to the little problem. He slid it down off my shoulders, and I let everything fall to the floor.
His eyes swept over me as I began undoing my black pants. I unhooked the clasp and undid the zipper, then pulled them off my hips. I was standing before him in nothing but my black panties. The straps sat high on my hips and were trimmed in elegant lace.
“I had no idea,” Hayden muttered.
I blushed. “No idea what?”
His gaze swept up to look me in the eye. “That a body like that was hiding under those clothes.”
My cheeks burned even more fiercely, and I looked down. I wasn’t good at accepting compliments, especially when I was naked and said compliments were coming from a man.
It was time to be bold. The knot below my stomach was only tightening further. There was no walking away from this now. Even though I was shy and this moment was causing me as much stress as it was lust, I needed this. I needed him.
I hooked my thumbs in the straps of my thong and pulled it off. I was glad that I had shaved that morning.
When I straightened back up, Hayden kissed me. He spared me the paralyzing moment of being completely naked before him and lifted me up on the counter. The aluminum was cold on my ass, and I nervously giggled into his mouth. He returned my laughter and whispered, “Cold?”
I nodded.
He pulled away and pulled his pants and boxers off.
I couldn’t help but stare. His cock sprang free of the confines of his boxers and reached upward, curving toward his belly button which was circled by black hair that crept up and across his chest. He was a whole lot of man in every sense of the expression.
I swallowed.
The knot tightened, and the pressure gathered like a mounting wave.
Hayden pushed my knees apart. I leaned back on my hands and stared up at him as he put his hands on my thighs. I waited, fighting my own muscles as they screamed for me to run. To bolt. He stepped in closer and ran his hands up my legs, over my hips, and up to my breasts. He cupped them in his hands and caressed them, flicking his thumbs over my nipples. They were hard already, and I arched my back when he lowered his head to draw one nipple into his mouth.
I sighed.
He rolled it between his lips, ran his tongue over it, and let his hand fall between my legs. His touch slipped between my wetness, and he pressed down on my clit and then rubbed me in slow circles.
I moaned and hung my head back.
He straightened and cupped my head in one hand. He pulled me back up to him and kissed me. As his tongue slipped between my lips, his finger pushed into me. I sucked in a sharp breath and melted against him.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
Hayden silenced me with more kisses. I moaned into his mouth, and he knew what to do. He pushed another finger inside me. The pressure built and built. My body thrummed with pleasure. I couldn’t hold on to it much longer.
He curled his fingers upward to my G-spot and began thrusting, nice and slow.
I tensed up and clung to him.
He groaned into my mouth, and the sound pushed me over the edge. My thighs trembled, and I came hard. My own breathless moans filled my ears as the tight knot exploded inside me, sending jolts of pleasure through my whole body.
“I need to taste you,” Hayden mumbled.
I opened my mouth to tell him no. I hadn’t been that intimate with a man since Evan. But he had already gone to his knees and put his hands on the inside of my thighs. He pushed my legs apart and looked up at me as he traced his tongue along my opening.
Saying no was no longer an option.
What he was doing felt way too good.
I reached down and grabbed his hair, encouraging him to keep doing what he was doing. He rolled his tongue upward and circled my clit before drawing it gently into his mouth. Then, right when I thought it couldn’t get any better than that, he pressed his fingers inside me again.
I gasped, and he worked relentlessly until I came again. He lapped at my juices and straightened. His lips glistened, and he was smiling sheepishly at me.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked. My voice was hoarse from all the heavy breathing.
He nodded and grabbed his pants from the floor. He rummaged through his pockets until he found a rubber, tore it open with his teeth, and tossed the wrapper aside. He took his cock in one hand and rolled the condom on.
I watched the whole time.
He was bigger than any guy I’d ever been with. As he took up his place between my legs once more, I wondered dimly if it would hurt. The need burning inside me was too hot for me to care. A little bit of pain never hurt anybody. Not really.
He rubbed his meaty head up and down my opening until it was slick with my wetness. Then, with deliberate and controlled silence, he eased himself inside me.
My body practically sucked him in.
I took all of him, and he planted his hands on either side of me. He stared into my eyes as he began thrusting his hips. I could hear how sloppy wet I was.
Hayden clenched his jaw as he worked himself in and out of me. I moaned, desperate for another climax, and clung to the edge of the counter to hold myself in place.
Hayden reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. His hand was so large, his thumb rested on the base of my throat. His grip on me was firm. I lifted my chin, and he held on to me as he fucked me harder.
His thrusts became a little wilder until he was bucking against me. I bit my bottom lip. I was so close.
I cried out in euphoria as my climax rolled over me. Hayden grunted with his release and thrust into me hard as he came.
When we broke apart, I was trembling and out of breath. He was breathless too, and he looked up at me from beneath his brows with a satisfied expression. “Holy shit,” he breathed.
Suddenly self-conscious, I slipped off the counter and hurried to collect my clothes from the tiled kitchen floor. “Holy shit what?” I asked, straightening up and holding my clothes in front of my body.
“Your pussy is so fucking good,” he said as he cleaned up and got rid of the condom.
The heat in my center was still burning. I stepped into my panties and clipped my bra on. “This was a one-time thing, Hayden. Don’t go getting the wrong idea
about you and me. Nothing is going to come out of this.”
“I wasn’t getting any ideas,” he said.
He was still butt naked. His torso was rippled with muscle and so was the rest of him. The veins in his forearms were sticking out, and his chest was rising and falling with each deep breath he drew. His cock was still hard, and he carried his nakedness without shame.
I envied that a little bit.
He started getting dressed, and I pulled my pants and blouse on. When we were both fully clothed, I wiped down the counter. I couldn’t believe I had sex on my kitchen counter. How irresponsible.
Then I flicked off all the lights.
Hayden followed me out through the front of the restaurant. I unlocked the front door, and we stepped out into the cool night air. I locked up behind us and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“I’ll walk you to your vehicle,” Hayden offered.
As we walked along the side of the restaurant, I shot him a wary look. “I feel like you’re not appreciating what I’m telling you. I know the kind of guys at that firehouse. I can’t be a part of that.”
Hayden smiled. “I hear you, Mel.”
13
Hayden
Morning arrived with birds chirping obnoxiously outside my window. Their little songs brought me out of my dream, and I woke frustrated because said dreams had been filled with visions of Mel’s naked body upon my bed. It had been so real that in my blurry, half-awake state I could still feel her hands on my chest; the soft press of her lips on my throat.
I rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes and groaned.
Last night had been nothing but a one-time thing. Mel was very clear about that. It meant nothing that I couldn’t stop thinking about her because she probably hadn’t been thinking about me.
At least, the way she’d left in such a hurry made me think she was willing herself to forget it.
And that stung a little bit.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. It wasn’t as early as I’d thought. For the first time in months, I’d slept in past six o’clock. A quick look at the clock on my nightstand informed me that it was nearly eight. I yawned and ran my hand down my face. Stubble tickled my palm.
I had plans to meet my father at his place for lunch early in the afternoon. Like me, he was an early riser, so lunch fell at eleven o’clock in the morning. He ate dinner at four and retired for the evening no later than eight thirty. It was a solitary life he led, and he’d been committed to his routine for over a decade. There was no room for change in his agenda.
I had an agenda of my own. After downing a glass of water, I’d head to the gym and pump some iron. Then I’d head back home, shower, and get ready to go to my father’s.
It took a lot of mental preparation, and getting in a good workout beforehand would help me keep a level head while eating lunch with my father, and I had to cross my t’s and dot my i’s before I submitted myself to the analytic disapproval I was bound to confront.
Just a typical father-son day for the Millers.
* * *
I parked my truck at the top of my father’s winding driveway. His house, a two-story colonial masterpiece, was located on top of a hill on a three-acre piece of beautifully landscaped property. He had at least one gardener on staff a day, as well as a pool boy, his live-in maid, and masseuse.
Gerald Miller did not refrain from indulging himself.
I got out of my truck with a sigh, closed the door, and marched up the rest of the drive to the front door. I lifted my fist to knock, but before I could rap my knuckles on the wood, it was pulled open.
My father’s maid, Genevieve, stood there with a kind smile. “Good morning, Hayden. Come on in. Your father is waiting for you on the terrace.”
I nodded a curt greeting to her as I slipped by. “Morning, Genevieve. How have you been?”
She closed and locked the front door before standing with her hands clasped behind her back. “Good as ever. Your father treats me well. I enjoy living in the pool house.”
The pool house was a small one-bedroom suite in the backyard. It was a beautiful place that I’d wanted to move into when I was a teenager. I’d had my head full of fantasies that living with my father past my nineteenth birthday would be manageable. I’d been wrong.
“I’m glad you’re content,” I told Genevieve.
“Go on in,” she said, gesturing for me to cross the grand living room and go out the back patio doors. “I’ll be out shortly with drinks and sandwiches. Would you prefer lemonade or iced tea?”
“Uh, water would be great actually. Thanks, Genevieve.”
She smiled and slipped away.
I took a deep breath and crossed the living room.
When I stepped out onto my father’s terrace, I noticed a couple of things. Firstly, he’d restained the deck a dark cherry color. Secondly, he’d had a canopy constructed above half of it to provide cover when it rained. And lastly, there was a cleared-out section of the garden near the south corner of the pool house that had been prepped for building.
Great, I thought.
I crossed the deck, the heels of my boots striking the wood, and pulled out a chair at the patio set my father was sitting at. He had a book in his lap, and I knew better than to interrupt him mid page.
I shrugged out of my loose jacket and let it hang over the back of the chair. Then I leaned back and waited for my father to pluck the sleek black bookmark from the table. He placed it against the spine of the page and closed the book before looking up at me. His neutral expression never changed.
“Hey, Dad,” I said.
“Hayden. You’re late.”
I stifled my sigh. “Traffic.”
“On a Sunday?”
I nodded.
“How have you been?” he asked after a pause.
“Good,” I said. “How about you?”
“Good.”
This was normal.
There was a lingering tension between us that had existed since my football days ended. My dad had been my biggest support system during my high school football career. He had been an integral part of helping me get scouted by the NFL. But before I could get there, I blew out my knee, and my dad had never looked at me the same way since.
It was almost as if he thought I could control the injury. Like I hadn’t tried hard enough to heal.
I’d tried.
I’d done everything I could to make a full recovery, despite doctors telling me there was no way I’d be picked by an NFL team. The injury was too severe and the risk too great. I wouldn’t be worth the money. I wouldn’t even be worth having on the team if I was a volunteer. A coach would fear me being benched for a season or more if something like this was to happen again.
And that was how it had all ended. Unceremoniously. Everyone forgot my name as quickly as they’d learned it, and I’d swum around in a dark circle until I decided to pick myself up off the ground and join the fire academy. Things got better after that. I found my place and my family. I found a purpose.
But my dad never saw it the same way I did. Saving lives, apparently, wasn’t as important as playing in the NFL.
“The house looks good,” I said to break the silence.
My father nodded slowly. “I fired the last gardener. He was letting things slip. The new guy… he’s showing promise.”
My dad talked about the gardener the same way he’d talked about me being drafted back in the day. Like it was life or death.
Genevieve came out to the deck with a silver platter of food. There were two sandwiches on white plates accompanied by bowls of creamy tomato soup. Genevieve put the tray down on the table between me and my father and then put our plates in front of us. She handed me my water and a couple napkins.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Miller?”
“No, this is all,” my father said.
Genevieve gave a polite curtsy—which annoyed the hell out of me that she bowed to him—and smiled at me.
>
“Thanks, Genevieve,” I said in my father’s place. He’d never had manners.
She walked away, and my father and I started eating. The first couple minutes were quiet. I tried to think of something worth saying, but nothing really came to mind. My father saved me when he started the conversation himself.
“Run into any burning buildings lately?” he asked as he dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.
“A few. It is my job, after all.”
My father nodded but never met my eye. “Save any lives?”
I put my spoon down. This was how it always went. He asked me these same sets of questions, and no matter what my answer was, he was never impressed.
Never proud.
“None since I saw you last,” I said. “There haven’t been any fires that bad.”
“Hm.” The sound could easily have been interpreted as disapproval or disappointment. But I knew it for what it was: indifference. He didn’t give a damn.
I swallowed the knot in my throat as the troubling thought crossed my mind. I almost wished there’d been a bad fire so I’d have a story to tell. I wished someone had needed me to drag them out of a burning building just to maybe, just maybe, gain the approval of my father.
But I’d saved people before, and it hadn’t been enough.
It would never be enough.
I nodded over at the cleared plot by the pool house. “You have plans for that spot over there?”
My father glanced at me. “I’m going to build a shed. I need more storage space. I will need help.”
“When I have some more days off, I’ll come give you a hand,” I offered.
“Give me notice at least.”
“I wouldn’t expect to just show up and you be able to drop everything,” I said, hearing the edge to my voice. I was tired of always fighting.
I wished things were different between us. I’d tried everything to make it better, but every attempt fell flat, and I only ever found myself right back where I started: pining for the approval of a father who would never do anything but look down his nose at me.
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