Screwed

A surprised little gasp escapes me, and Hayden quiets the sound with his mouth, kissing me hard again. Then he breaks away and glances over my shoulder. “He’s gone. And probably thoroughly fucking confused. But hopefully he won’t bother you too much anymore.”


Despite his playboy lifestyle and occasional closed-off moments, I know Hayden cares for me. He’s been nothing but sweet and fun for our entire friendship. And yesterday, he was practically a knight in shining armor. He made polite small talk with my coworkers, even though I’m sure he was bored out of his mind. He warded off Larry The Creeper without making a scene. He went out of his way to make sure I got a decent vegetarian dinner—in a steakhouse, no less. He toughed out what must have been an epic case of blue balls just because I was tipsy.

Overall, he seems like the total package. An attentive, handsome guy who’s seen me at my most graceless and still thinks I’m the best thing since sliced bread. He can even guess my favorite drinks, for Christ’s sake. That’s good enough for me. More than enough. Isn’t it?

Focus on the pros, Emery . . . they far outweigh the cons. I let a sultry smile curve my lips. Remember what you came here for. Why rock the boat when you can rock the bed?

This time, Hayden is the one to pull back before things get too R-rated for public display. “I talked to the hotel concierge,” he says casually, as if he weren’t hiding a huge boner under the table. “He recommended some fun touristy things to do in Omaha. It’s kind of a short list, but there’s an art museum, a botanical garden, a community theater. They’re performing Annie at seven tonight . . . an off-Broadway rendition.” He chuckles. “Way the hell off.”

I cover his hand with mine. “Let’s just go back to the room,” I say, looking deep into his gorgeous blue eyes.

He blinks in surprise. From the subtle breath he draws in, I can tell he knows exactly what I want and how badly I want it. And he’s dying to give it to me. “What about dinner?” he asks, offering me one last chance to back out and pretend none of this ever happened.

No fucking way, babe. You’re mine tonight. “We can order room service,” I reply. My thumb rubs the back of his hand in slow circles. “After.”

His grin turns absolutely devilish. That’s all the confirmation I need.

Abandoning our drinks in their sweat rings on the table, we pay our bar tab and make a break for it. We hurry toward the elevator like a pair of teenagers who finally have the house to themselves.

My stomach jitters with eager butterflies. There are no nosy colleagues or scandalized old ladies to slow us down this time. No cocktail buzz to guilt Hayden into leaving me alone again. In fact, I can’t think when I last felt more sober; I’m so awake, so alive, my skin is sparking with desire. I almost can’t stand the anticipation as the elevator slowly dings its way up to our floor. I want his hands on me and his cock inside me right this second.

With his longer stride, Hayden reaches our room door first. He opens it for me with a flourish and a hungry gleam in his eye. “Ladies first.”

He squeezes my ass as I walk through, and I squeak with surprise, giggling. I’m acting like a giddy schoolgirl and I couldn’t care less.

But when the heavy door clicks shut behind us, I can’t help but pause. As soaking wet as my panties are, as much as every part of me wants Hayden . . . sex is such a big step. Who could charge over a cliff like this without even hesitating at the edge? As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that sleeping together is no big deal, it’s going to have ripple effects. No way around that.

When I turn to look at him, Hayden’s expression has softened, concern shining through his desire. I realize that my apprehension is contagious. He knows as well as I do that this is it. We’re about to have sex—and our friendship will never be quite the same again. Even if that change is for the better, it’ll still take some getting used to. Is Hayden willing to work through the awkward stage that’s coming? I’m not even sure if I’m ready for it.

But then again, is anyone ever completely ready for anything new? Life happens at its own pace. I can’t make this leap smaller or less intimidating by worrying about it. Either I back away and spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been . . . or I take the plunge.

Right now.





Chapter Fifteen


Hayden



Emery stands in the center of our hotel room, her wide blue eyes locked on mine, looking apprehensive. After dirty-texting all day, I’ve been wound up and horny, so when she sauntered into the hotel bar, dressed in a black pencil skirt and white button-down top, looking ever so prim and proper, I wanted to strip her down and fuck her senseless. Now . . . I’m not so sure.

“Hey, come here,” I say, holding out my hand. She crosses the room toward me, placing her shaky palm in mine. “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” All the confidence and bravado she had downstairs has faded away.

Kendall Ryan's books