Hayden moves with the certainty of a man who knows what he’s doing. His lips crash against mine and my pulse skitters wildly. The room is filled with the sounds of our flesh slapping together.
I cry out and clutch his biceps for support as the most intense orgasm of my life hits me. This is the third he’s wrung from my body in the last hour, and I feel as if I’m floating on cloud nine. The man can fuck, there’s no denying that. It’s like he has a damn map of my vagina, the G-spot charted out in big block letters: Pleasure Central—Right Here!
Little droplets of sweat dot along the back of his neck; I feel dampness when I lace my fingers behind his head and pull him down for a kiss. His lips move tenderly with mine as the urgency of our fucking slows down to a softer pace. He has such control, such stamina, but I think he’s finally getting close. His cock thickens inside me and he groans softly near my ear. It’s the best sound in the whole world, knowing he’s finally following me over the edge.
“Emery,” he says on a groan, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of my throat.
After he comes, he keeps pumping in and out of me slowly, as if savoring the way I feel around him. When he reluctantly pulls out, he gathers me up in his arms and holds me, our limbs tangled and the sheets damp with our perspiration. I feel tired and boneless. It’s perfection. Better than I knew sex could be.
“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do that?” he asks, still breathing hard, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
“Because we’re friends?” I suggest helpfully.
“Right. Totally. I’d say now we’re more like best friends.”
“Besties.” I almost choke on the word. Why is my heart clenching in my chest?
As he rises from the bed and heads into the bathroom, to get rid of the condom, I presume, I take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of myself. I feel totally confused and out of control.
What the hell was I thinking? I just had sex with Hayden Oliver. Hayden Fucking Oliver. The man Roxy and my mom both warned me about with pitchforks and danger signs. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but it was close.
I hear the faucet running in the bathroom, and I curl onto my side, hugging the pillow to my chest. It’s scented like him: cologne, sweat, sex. The smell makes my * throb again, makes me want him in my arms and between my legs . . . even as I want to push him away so I can figure all this out.
My heart is still thumping like a jackhammer when he approaches the bed and flops down beside me.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at me with something close to concern in his eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” I lie. “You?”
“Never better. That was incredible.” He shoves a pillow under his head and gazes up at the ceiling. “So, meetings all day again tomorrow?” he asks, like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Like we didn’t just have the best sex of my life. Like my brain isn’t turning itself inside out.
“Uh, yeah.” I can’t even think straight right now. How am I supposed to function in business meetings only eight hours from now?
“Do you still want to order room service?” Hayden asks, rolling over to face me in the dim light.
I shrug. “Not really.” My appetite has vanished. Along with my common sense, apparently. “I might just turn in early.”
“Cool with me,” he says. “Mind if I turn on the TV? We could watch the end of the game.”
I reach over to the nightstand and hand him the remote.
He kisses the top of my head and pulls me onto his chest. He’s warm and solid, and I curl up like a cat, letting him hold me.
As the steady sound of his heartbeat thumps under my ear, a pit of dread churns in my stomach. I never meant to let this happen, but holy shit, I’m falling in love with him. I’m screwed—completely and utterly screwed.
And not in the fun way.
Chapter Seventeen
Hayden
In the morning, I stretch my stiff limbs and rise from the bed, then lumber into the bathroom and swing the door shut behind me. When I lift the toilet seat and begin pissing, I wonder why in the hell my cock feels funny. Like I spent all night fucking.
Then the memories start rushing back. Emery writhing beneath me. Her legs wound around my back. Our mouths fused together in hungry kisses. The tightest * I’ve ever felt milking me.
Damn. That was intense. Who knew my buttoned-up, yoga-loving lawyer would be a fucking rock star in the sack?
I want a repeat, but when I emerge from the bathroom, I can see her sleeping form still curled up in the heap of messy sheets. Knowing that she’s got another big day of meetings ahead of her, I decide to let her rest a little longer.
As quietly as possible, I grab a pair of sweats from my bag and go into the adjoining living room of the suite. Flipping through the hotel’s room service menu, I pick up the phone and order us breakfast and coffee, then sit down in the armchair with my cell phone.