My arms snake around her when she nestles her head under my chin, utterly spent.
She’ll get me killed. I fucking know it.
25
Carter
An hour. That’s how long it takes before my hard-on subsides. Hailey sleeps like a baby, exhausted and tipsy, her cheek against my shoulder, face snuggled into the crook of my neck.
I weave my fingers through her hair in a mechanical motion, mesmerized by the liquid silk feel of the long strands.
It’s new. Everything I do with this girl is brand fucking new. Letting her use me without getting off myself?
New.... on so many levels.
My needs are always my priority. When I fuck, I fuck to come. To feel good. To release the tension from my knotted muscles and briefly forget about the blood on my hands and the threats lurking in the shadows.
If the woman I pound into comes too... good for her. If she doesn’t... better luck next time.
The same treatment could never apply to Hailey. I waited for her orgasm as if it’d save the world, cure diseases, and endpoverty. I don’t know why. It goes against everything I know about myself, but I didn’t mind keeping my dick on a leash.
It took more control than anything ever should not to spill in my boxers, but one thought helped me along:She’s tipsy. This isn’t for your fucking benefit, only hers.
I’ve never been as entranced as when she ground into me. I could stare at her for hours.
Fuck knows what it is about her, but I’m defenseless against my instincts. Instincts that revel in the soft, sweet heat of her body beside me. Instincts that demand I toy with her hair.
There’s no need to get this close.
My task is retrieving her memories. Her trust was a part of it for a moment and that moment’s gone. Now, her trust is simply an unnecessary distraction.
I don’t need her trust. I don’t need her to tellme what she remembers because Iknow. I read all about it.
Well... not all of it; I still don’t know what she saw this week, but I have a feeling it isn’t relevant to the bigger picture.
Hailey wants to find out why her father’s lying. She’s rigorous in posing questions and detailing what might be relevant, while skimming over any details that don’t hold value.
Whatever she’s omitting can’t be important. What she’s written is enough. More than enough. The pages are filled with raw honesty... unfiltered Hailey in five different colors.
I’ve spent hours studying her words. I’ve read and re-read every sentence until I can recite the whole fucking thing.
It’s fascinating how her mind works. How quickly she invents plausible answers she can’t confirm. As fascinating as the liquid silk of her locks sliding between my rough fingers and tangling in my signet ring—the one accessory I refused to drop when I morphed into Nash.
Spending time with Hailey is dangerous. I should muster the hate and distance myself. The thought, a bit foggy around theedges, is there:push her away. I should, but my body operates on a different wavelength where she’s concerned.
My arms don’t budge.
Instead of loosening the hold, like I really fucking need to, a dominant, almost primal impulse has me grazing my lips over her hairline. She’s so close I crane my neck until a dull pain starts, but I do it. The impulse is too strong to ignore.
Overpowering.
I’m weak because... I do it again. I drag my parted lips over her skin and stamp a soft kiss on her head. My stomach tightens immediately, guilt sprouting like a magic bean. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t give in to the pull.
It’s just fucking desire. Primal, controllable...
Easier said than done.
Hailey’s intoxicating. A potent drug. Not the kind to instigate that addictive feeling of invincibility or euphoria. Far from it.
