His mouth is on mine—hot and demanding, salty from the popcorn, and his tongue slides against mine with an urgency that ignites a moan low in my throat.
Hayes’s hands are everywhere—roaming up my sides, trailing down to my hips, cupping my face with a gentleness at odds with the bruising intensity of his kiss. I clutch his shirt, pulling him closer even though there’s no space left between us.
At some point, we stumble against the wall, my back thudding into the cold brick. He pins me there, hips flush to mine, and the friction is electric. One of his hands tangles in my hair, angling my head so he can kiss me even deeper, and the other grips my thigh, urging it up around his waist.
We’re both gasping, the sound obscene in the empty bar. I lose all sense of time. There is only this—his body, my body, and the red-hot spark of what we’ve never allowed ourselves.
He breaks away first, resting his forehead against mine, his eyes dark and wild and searching, breath ragged. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, though he doesn’t move away. “I shouldn’t have?—”
I lift on my tiptoes and press my lips to his again. He wastes no time taking control of the kiss, and I grind my center along his hard length, forgetting every reason we said this is a bad idea.
Screw rules and lists and all the shit I worry too much about.
My hands wedge between us, and I flick open the button of his pants. I am lust personified. My fingers grab the top of his zipper. I’m going to take this for myself.
The sound of a door slamming shut reverberates through the small space. We both strip our mouths off one another and turn our heads.
Hayes groans. “Impeccable timing as always, Kodiak.”
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Leighton
* * *
I’m in the guest room, essentially my room, putting away the clothes I’ve left in suitcases and laundry baskets since I moved in. I’ve been through this house the past two days, trying to get it neat and tidy and organized for the home visit tonight. Hayes is supposed to be here any minute, and we’ll tell the kids that we’re a couple. They won’t know the fake part of it because we can’t chance them blowing our secret.
After that kiss in the rooftop bar though, I’m kind of wishing we were a real couple. I would’ve slept with Hayes that day, then we’d be in even bigger trouble. Thankfully, Easton interrupted us, and when Hayes walked me down to the Uber, we both agreed that it shouldn’t happen again.
Every night since, I’ve masturbated to what might have happened had Easton not interrupted us. Every time I think about it, a flash of heat flows through my body like lava, slow-moving and scorching. I’ve never been kissed like that.
Lincoln runs into the room and throws himself onto my bed, effectively forcing me to stop thinking about the feel of Hayes’s dick pressing against my core.
“Did you put your clean clothes in the dresser?” I ask, hanging my clothes in the closet.
“Yep.”
“And nothing is falling out? The drawers are all closed?” I eye him, piling my sweatshirts on the shelf.
“Yep.”
“There’s a lot of room in this closet.” I continue putting away my clothes.
“You should paint your room,” Lincoln says. “What color is your room at your apartment?”
I look around the room. It’s probably the smallest bedroom, but I’m not complaining. “A boring cream color. I wasn’t allowed to paint at my apartment.”
Lake comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you move into Mom and Dad’s room? Then you’d have your own bathroom.”
That has been the only downside of living in the guest room. I share a bathroom with Lincoln and Monroe. Lake has her own attached to her room, but the three of us share the main bath. I usually end up doing my makeup downstairs.
But the idea of moving into Sky’s room… “I don’t know about that.”
Lincoln says nothing, probably because he thinks we should leave their room untouched.
“You’re going to so much trouble.” Lake crosses her legs. “Who cares if your clothes are in your suitcase?”
