Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

QUINN

I knew he was home.

I was so keyed up after the game, I couldn't sleep. I thought a quick orgasm could help take the edge off and I'd be out like a baby, but when I heard the front door open, then his feet moving across the hardwood, I didn't stop. I don't think I could have even if I'd wanted to. The idea of getting caught was far too thrilling for me to resist.

I listened as he got closer and closer, never once even considering turning off the toy. I thought he might stop and listen, but I never expected him to push my door open, or come into the room. The door must not have latched all the way, and I've honestly never been more grateful for that mistake in my life because it was like once it was open, he couldn't stay away.

Frankly, I didn't want him to. No, I begged him to come closer. To touch me. He did, and it was fucking magical. Hands down the best orgasm of my life.

Next time you come to my game, you wear my number, understood?

His words float through my mind for the hundredth time since he whispered them. They were so hot. So… possessive . Like he was staking his claim. The funny part is, I didn't even realize I was wearing the jersey until he said something. I just left it on because it was comfortable and breezy, and honestly, I was too lazy to change. I guess Hayes noticed, though.

Then he stormed out of my room and left me unable to sleep, the exact opposite thing I was hoping the orgasm would accomplish. I didn't fall asleep until about three AM, and I'm feeling it today.

"Just Quinn?"

"Hmm?" I ask, looking down at Flora as we walk down the sidewalk to my mother's bakery. She was up early this morning asking about chocolate donuts, and I couldn't say no to her.

I was, however, surprised when Hayes decided to come along, especially given he still hasn't so much as looked at me all morning. But I can't think about that, not when Flora's observing me with her dark brows pinched together and eyes full of concern.

"Sorry, little flower. I'm just tired today. What did you ask? "

"I was wondering if we could go to the park again today, but if you're tired, we can just go home."

I smile. She's too damn sweet. I glance over at Hayes to see if he's witnessing this, but he's too busy staring at the sidewalk, avoiding any and all eye contact with me.

Seriously? I don't understand why he can't act like an adult about this.

"We can go to the park. In fact, let's make Sunday mornings official park days, huh? We can call it Sunday Funday at the Park with Just Quinn and Flora the Little Flower."

She wrinkles her nose. "That's a long name. Let's just call it Park Day."

I laugh. "Deal. Want to watch a movie tonight, too? I can make popcorn, and maybe if you're lucky, I'll even show you how good it is when you dump M&M's into it."

"M&M's and popcorn? I don't know…"

"Hey, you loved the mayo and ketchup on your fries, didn't you?" She nods. "Then trust me on this."

"Fine, but if it's bad, I'm never trusting you again."

I chuckle as Hayes pulls open the lilac door to B's Bakes. Oh, look, I guess he hasn't forgotten all his manners. He just hates me.

"Flora!" my mother calls as we walk in.

"Hi, Mom. I'm here too. "

She waves me off, not caring, all her attention on Flora as she practically runs to the donut case. I cannot believe how far she's come in the last few weeks. Sure, she's still shy around people she doesn't know, but she's starting to flourish around the ones she does. I love seeing her like this, happy and like an actual kid . I hope it only gets better from here.

"You want your chocolate donut with sprinkles?" my mother asks her.

She nods. " Extra sprinkles. And a chocolate milk in a mug, please."

"You got it!"

My mother happily punches the order into the screen and turns her attention to me and Hayes, her eyes dancing between us. I know the second she recognizes the awkwardness there, her smile slipping a little. She doesn't miss the stiffness in his shoulders either, the way his lips are turned down in a frown, and she definitely doesn't miss how he's standing as far away from me as possible.

She pulls her lips back up, but where it was genuine with Flora, it's now forced.

"Your usual, Hayes?"

He nods, not using his words as he's instructed Flora to do so many times.

My mother purses her lips. "Sure."

She turns her gaze on me, so many questions in her eyes. Ones I really don't want to answer in front of Flora.

I tap her head. "Hey, little flower. Why don't you and your uncle go grab our table, hmm? I'll get this."

It's telling that Hayes doesn't even insist on paying. He just grabs Flora's shoulder and steers her toward the table by the window. I watch them go, then blow out a deep breath before facing my mother again.

Her purple-coated lips are pressed tightly together. "I know for a fact that man should be smiling right now. The Serpents just won their first game last night. He has no business looking so…so…well, grumpy. Is everything okay?"

I shrug. "I don't know. He's just in a mood today."

But I do know. I really know.

"So you're telling me he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something? Nothing else big is going on? Everything's okay? Because you're not wearing any ridiculous earrings today, and you always do."

I know what she's really asking: Is everything okay with you two?

My mother likes Hayes, but she loves me, and I love her for being so concerned for me right now.

I nod, swallowing down the heaviness that's settled into my throat. "Yep. All good."

"Hmm," she says, her lips pulled into a flat line.

She doesn't fully believe me, and honestly, I wouldn't believe me either. It's clear something is wrong with Hayes, but I'm not about to tell my mother it's because we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves last night. She'll kill me if she finds out I've likely already ruined this.

"Well, if you need to talk or anything, you know you can call me, right?"

I smile. "I know, Mom. I appreciate it. Now, can I get some breakfast? I'm starving."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, Quinn, never change, kid. Never change."

She's wrong though. I do need to change. I cannot keep repeating the same mistakes, which means no matter how badly I want it to happen, Hayes and I can't be a thing. I have to start making good decisions, even if it means giving up something I really want.

And what I really want is Hayes, even if he is my boss.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes." Flora pats her belly. "Thank you for dinner, Just Quinn."

She says it like she's just eaten the best meal of her life instead of a can of soup I cracked open and a grilled cheese sandwich…for the third night this week. Man, I really need to learn to make something else for her.

"You're welcome, kid. Now, go take a shower. You have school in the morning, and we need to start getting you ready for bed."

"Ugh. Again?"

"Yes, again . And you better get used to it because you're going to have school for"—I quickly count the years in my head—"at least nine more years."

"Ten," Hayes corrects. "Ten more years. She's in second grade, so it's ten."

It's six o'clock in the evening, and it's the first thing Hayes has said to me all day. He and Flora chatted about his game during dinner. She asked a bunch of questions about the rules, why he had to sit in timeout, and whether he had to go to the principal's office after the game because he got in trouble. In all that, he didn't say a single word directly to me.

Until now.

"Oh," I say. "Sorry, Flora, looks like it's ten."

"That's, like, a whole decade ."

"That is, in fact, a whole decade. Now, go. Shower, then you can get one hour of reading before bed."

"I'm going, I'm going." She rises from her chair with a grumble, then trudges slowly down the hall, her footfalls extra heavy with every step .

I smile, but it slips from my face when I realize it's the first time Hayes and I have been alone since last night. Which means we need to talk about what happened, and I really don't want to talk about what happened.

I rinse our bowls and plates, then load them into the dishwasher before going for Hayes's dirty dishes. I reach for his empty plate, and his hand circles my wrist, stopping me.

I'm transported right back to last night and the way his hands felt on me. How gentle he was, such a contrast to how he normally is. How featherlight his fingers were as he teased me, never once taking his eyes off me. How absolutely fucking magical it was to come with him holding the toy to my clit.

But his touch only lasts a moment, like he too is remembering everything that has transpired between us.

"I got it," he says, releasing me and grabbing the plate instead.

I frown down at him. "It's no big deal. I'm already up."

"I said, I got it ."

"Fine." I let the plate go and it clatters loudly on the table, Hayes not expecting me to drop it, I guess. I turn back to the kitchen and flip on the hot water before grabbing the dirty soup pot from the stove .

He scoffs, his chair scraping against the floor. "Are you seriously mad at me for not letting you clean up after me?"

I look up at him. "Are you seriously acting like that's all this is?"

"Well, yeah, what else would it be?"

"Gee, Hayes, I don't know," I say sarcastically, scrubbing the pot with more force than is warranted. "Something to do with last night."

"Last night…" He shakes his head. "It was…"

"What?" I ask, letting the pot fall into the sink with a rattle. "What was it?"

"A mistake!" Hayes yells. "A big fucking mistake!"

"Oh," I say, because I don't know what else to say.

A big fucking mistake? Is that what he really thinks? Sure, we slipped up again, but a big fucking mistake is a bit much, isn't it? How could it have been when it felt so damn good?

"It can't happen again, Quinn," he says more quietly this time. "You understand that, right?"

I don't like how he's talking to me, like this is all my fault, and he wasn't a willing participant in the whole thing. Like he didn't go into his bathroom afterward and fuck his fist while he called out my name.

I heard him. I got up to get a drink of water because my mouth was so dry after coming so hard, and I heard him. He's as guilty as I am, so I don't know why he's placing the blame on me right now, but I do know it pisses me off. I'm not the only one who was in my bedroom last night. I'm not the only one who crossed the line. We both did, and he needs to admit it was his fault too.

"You're right, Hayes. It was a mistake. A big fucking mistake , as a matter of fact. And it won't happen again. I can promise you that."

I leave the dirty pot in the sink, walking away before I start crying because I refuse to let him see me cry. Not after last night. Not after everything.

He doesn't say anything else, doesn't try to come after me. I go through my nightly routine with Flora, reading her book aloud to her, even though my heart isn't really in it. When I'm finished, I step into the hall to find Hayes has closed his door and turned in for the night.

I'm not sure if I'm relieved or pissed, and I can't help but wonder if I've already fucked up the best job of my life.

The vibe in the house isn't any better than it was yesterday as I get Flora ready for school. Hayes sits quietly through breakfast, back to not looking at me and barely even speaking to his niece.

Honestly, Flora and I aren't any better. We're both dragging ass today. She's hardly awake as I braid her hair, and I'm so tired myself that I have to do it three times to get it right. I guess I shouldn't be surprised given I spent most of the night awake, tossing and turning and going over every single moment I've had with Hayes in my head.

Did I leave the door unlatched on purpose? Did I purposefully pick my noisiest toy, knowing he was coming home soon? Did I overreact to him ignoring me? Should I have kicked him out when he walked into my room?

The questions are nonstop, so I try to distract myself with a show. The second the couple kisses, I turn it off. I turn to a book, but the characters are banging within the first chapter, so I toss that aside too. I reach for my laptop and watch random videos on YouTube, anything to distract me, but it still doesn't work. All I can do is think about Hayes and potentially losing my job.

For the first time ever, I actually care about what I'm doing. I like Flora so much, and the thought of being ripped away from her just because Hayes and I can't control ourselves makes me sick. Then again, maybe it would be for the best if Hayes fired me. It's clear I'm not good at making decisions. I have no business molding the mind of a young kid when I can hardly keep myself in check.

I hear the front door swing open around ten thirty, but I stay in my room and away from Hayes. I try to convince myself I'm hiding because I'm so engrossed in what I'm doing, but the truth is I'm scared to leave my room. I don't want to face him after our discussion about what happened, after he blamed me—the wild and unpredictable one—for what happened between us.

But the longer I stay tucked away, the more frustrated I become. Until last night, I was never afraid to leave my room, never felt the need to hide. I don't want to live like this, and I also don't want to stay here with him—not after last night.

"Screw this. I'm leaving," I mutter to myself.

I don't know where I'm going. Maybe to my storage unit so I can start going through all the clothes I have stashed in there. I haven't missed them at all over the last three weeks, so it's clear I can live without them. There's no sense in keeping them around if I'm not wearing them. I should sell them and make some cash. I might need it soon anyway.

I push my laptop to the side, then swap my sweats for yoga pants and slide my crossbody bag over my shoulder before pulling open my door. I silently pray he's not out in the common area and won't see me leave.

Of course that's not my luck.

"Where are you going?" Hayes asks from the kitchen as I pass by and beeline for the door.

I pause, looking at him, and ugh! It's so unfair! Why does he have to look so good right now? Why does his t-shirt have to cling to his muscles and show off his tattoos? Why do his jeans have to sit so low on his hips? Why does his hair have to lie in that perfectly messy way? And why does he have to look so good barefoot?

"Out," I say, keeping it simple, hoping he drops it.

He doesn't. He pushes away from the counter, setting his bowl aside. "Out where?"

"What is this? Twenty questions? I'm just going out."

"Why?"

I glare at him. "You're not my father. I don't have to answer that."

"No," he says, padding closer. I don't want him closer. I want him far away because having him close is too dangerous. "But I am your boss, and this is my house. I have a right to know what's going on in it."

I was waiting for him to throw that in my face, and I scoff at his words. "I was under the impression that when Flora is at school, I'm allowed to do whatever I want as long as I'm on time to pick her up. So, I'm going out. That's the end of the discussion, boss ."

His eyes narrow as I toss the moniker back to him. "You don't even have a car."

Crap. He's right. My poor Bug is still in the shop, and I've been driving his fancy-schmancy SUV to take Flora anywhere we can't walk.

Whatever. I can Uber. I don't want his help.

"I'll walk."

"No," he says. "I'll take you."

I jerk my head back, the whiplash of this conversation too much. "No."

"No?" He lifts his brows. "Why, Quinny, you're not sneaking off to the toy store now, are you? Buying something new to play with?"

If I wasn't so blown away by his audacity, I might actually be embarrassed by his question. But I'm not.

"Screw you, Hayes," I seethe, my teeth clenched tight.

He laughs. Laughs!

All it does is piss me off more. I roll my eyes with a huff and storm toward the front door.

"Wait!" he calls out after me.

I don't. I keep walking, ignoring the jerk.

"Stop!" he calls, this time closer.

I ignore him again, picking up my pace, trying to put as much distance between us as possible .

"Dammit, Quinn!" I can hear his heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. He's right behind me, so close I can feel his body heat. "Would you just fucking wait?"

"Why!" I yell, spinning around and throwing my hands in the air. He skids to a stop, just barely missing crashing into me. "Why should I, huh? So you can tell me what a mistake it was again?"

"No! It's just…" He sighs. "I…I?—"

"What, Hayes? What? What could you possibly say to me right now?—"

Only I don't finish my sentence. I can't.

Adam Hayes is kissing me— again —and it's just as magical as it was the first and second time. It's soft and sweet yet hard and demanding. His hands crash into my hair, holding me close like he'll never get to kiss me again. I'd let him kiss me any time if he promised to kiss me like this.

I clutch his shirt, pulling him even closer because I'm not sure I'll ever get enough, and he groans as his big body crashes against mine, pushing me against the door with a heavy thud. My head bounces off the wood, but I don't care. I can't care. Not when he feels as good as he does.

He traces my lips with his tongue, begging for entry, and I don't dare deny him. My head is fuzzy, and I feel dizzy as our tongues tangle together, like I'm going to pass out, but I don't want to pass out. I want to savor this moment for as long as I can, savor the taste of him. It's something sweet, and I realize what he was eating—ice cream.

It's butterscotch. My favorite.

His kiss turns softer and sweeter, less impatient and more languid, and I'm so glad I'm pressed against the door because I melt into him, craving this softer side of him as much as I crave the harder side. Speaking of hard…he is. His cock presses against my belly, long and heavy, and I want so badly to reach my hand between us and feel him. He got to touch me. It's only fair I get to touch him, right?

So I try to, only to have my attempt thwarted when he grabs my wrists and holds them against the door above my head in one hand. I'd be impressed if I wasn't so annoyed by it. I groan, but he just chuckles, clearly the one in charge here. He continues kissing me, running his free hand down my throat and over my arm, down my side and back up again, like he's memorizing every inch of me. I get it. I want to memorize every inch of him, too.

I don't know who pulls away first, but suddenly we're a mess of stuttered breaths as we gasp for air, my back still pressed against the door and Hayes crowding me, caging me in like he's afraid to let me go for fear I might run.

And I just might because What the hell? We just kissed. Again. We just crossed the line. Again. We are so, so screwed.

I run my tongue over my bottom lip, peering up into his silver eyes, unsure what to do.

"What was that for?" I ask.

"I had to get you to shut up somehow."

I buck at him with my hips, trying to wiggle free, but he doesn't let me.

"Stop. That's not what I meant. I just meant?—"

"What?" I snap. "What did you mean?"

"I… Well, I guess I did mean that. It's just…"

I sigh. "You're going to need to make up your mind here, Hayes. This hot and cold doesn't work for me. You can't keep kissing and touching me and then act like I'm the only one at fault here. We're both adults. We?—"

He cuts my words off with his mouth once more. I want to resist. To pull away. To stop him.

But I can't find it in me to do it. I want to kiss him more than I don't want to.

He moves his lips against mine expertly, his grip on my wrists softening just a bit, but not enough for me to get free. I both love it and hate it because I want to touch him so badly, like the way he's touching me, tracing his fingertips over my side, across the band of the yoga pants I'm wearing like he's trying to decide if he should try to take them off or not .

Do it, Hayes , my mind screams. Touch me.

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he pulls away again, and I groan. He laughs darkly, and I glare at him.

"Shut up."

"You first." He grins, then runs his fingers over my waistband again, this time pulling it away and snapping it back into place, and I love the bite of its sting.

He peers down into my eyes, his silver stare hard and serious. "Look. We both know this is a bad idea."

"A big fucking mistake, right?"

He nods. "It is. The biggest…"

"But?"

He shakes his head. "No but. That part is true and even you can't deny it."

He's right. I can't. What we're doing is wrong on so many levels. I should do the right thing and tell him to stop, but I can't quite make the words come out.

"I want this, though," he says on a whisper, almost like he's afraid to say the words any louder. "I want you . I'm tired of pretending I don't."

I want you too.

"Then take me, Hayes." I lean forward and ghost my lips over his as I rub my body against him like some desperate girl, and I guess I am. "Take me, because right now, I'm at your mercy. I'm all yours."

He closes his eyes as I kiss one corner of his lips, then the other. "It's wrong. You're here for Flora. Not for me."

"It can be both. I can be here for you both."

What the hell am I even saying? Stop this, Quinn! Be better than this. Don't repeat your past mistakes.

But I don't listen to me. I don't listen to what I should do. I listen to what I want.

"That's not… This isn't what I intended when I hired you."

"I know that." I kiss down his chin and neck, and he groans when my lips trace the column of his throat, the noise so loud it vibrates against my lips. "But it's what I'm offering."

"Quinn…" he whispers.

"Adam," I respond, and I know it's his downfall.

Suddenly he's not trying to resist me anymore. No, he's tugging me closer, hauling me against him, his lips crashing into mine with such force I'm not sure how I won't be bruised later. I don't care. My mind is in other places as he slides his hand into my yoga pants and right down past my underwear, cupping my pussy with his warm hand.

"Fuck, you're already so wet," he mutters, his fingers slipping between my folds.

I nod, even though he's not asking a question.

"Feel so fucking good," he says as he slips a single digit inside me, and I cry out in relief .

He laughs, but this time I'm not even upset about it. I can't find it in me, not when he's dragging his finger in and out of me and it feels so, so good.

"I want to fuck you against this door, Quinn. I want it to be so loud and so hard that people walking by know exactly what's going on. Would you like that?"

I nod. I'd like that very much.

"Me too. So much."

"Then do it already."

Another laugh.

"Patience, honey," he says.

Honey.

It's the first time he's called me that, and I don't hate it. If anything, I like it entirely too much. I want to hear him say it again. I'm about to ask him to, but he yanks his hand from my pants, and this time, when I cry out, it's not relief—it's pure frustration.

"What the fuck, Hayes? I?—"

But I don't get the chance to finish. He's yanking my yoga pants down my legs, then scooping me into his arms. I allow it, curling my legs around his waist as he carries me to the couch, too impatient to take us anywhere else. He drops down, and I straddle his lap, his cock straining between us.

"Fuck," he mutters when I roll my hips against him, loving the way he feels sliding against me.

It's not enough. I need more. I grab the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and Hayes gets the picture. He grabs the shirt himself, sliding it over his head and tossing it I don't know or care where. I'm too distracted counting the ridges on his stomach, too busy running my hands over each and every dip, then dragging them up through the light hair that covers his chest.

He lets me explore him. Lets me lean forward and press my lips against his collarbone. Allows me to kiss the base of his throat, to run my teeth along his skin, to trace every freckle he has with my tongue. Then start all over again.

Quinn, you need to stop. Be responsible for once in your life.

I ignore the voice in the back of my mind and scoot down to get more of him, but he drags me back up, pressing his mouth against mine in a possessive kiss. His hands dive into my hair, tugging me so close I don't know where he ends and I begin, and I don't give a shit. None of it matters when he's kissing me like he is.

He drags his hands down my back, breaking our kiss to pull my shirt over my head, tossing it across the room like he did his own. I expect him to reach for me again, but he doesn't. He just sits there, catching his breath and staring at me as I sit in his lap.

I wonder what he sees. Swollen lips from his kisses? My hair a wreck from his hands? My chest red from getting so worked up ?

"Fuck, you're beautiful, Quinny," he whispers, reaching forward to trace the cup of my simple black bra. "So fucking beautiful. I can't wait to fuck you."

My breath stutters in my chest. He says it so simply. So directly.

I can't wait either.

"But first, I want to taste you." He grabs my hips, jerking me to him. "I've been dying to taste you."

He pulls the cup of my bra down, closing his mouth around my already hard nipple, flicking his tongue in a delicious rhythm that shouldn't be getting me so close to the edge but is.

Or maybe it's just Hayes. I don't know.

Like he knows I'm thinking of him, he peeks his silver eyes up at me and grins, my nipple caught between his teeth. I wish I had a camera right now so I could take a picture of this and keep it forever. He lets me free with an audible pop, then moves on to my other nipple, spending as much time kissing it as he did the other. It feels so, so good, yet it's not nearly enough.

"Hayes." I groan, dragging my nails over his head. "I want…"

"What?" He trails his lips from my breast up to my throat, sucking on a sensitive spot just at the base. "What do you want?"

"More. I want more. I want you . "

"Then take me." He repeats my words back to me. "Take me."

I drop my hands between us, straight to the button on his jeans, and finally— finally —Hayes doesn't stop me. I drag the zipper down, and he arches up, helping me shove them down his legs, taking his boxer briefs right along with them. I get my first glimpse at naked Hayes.

He's magnificent. And huge. Too huge.

He chuckles deeply. "Don't worry, honey. I'll fit."

I wrap my hand around him, loving how heavy he feels, and then curl my wrist up. He tosses his head back with a loud groan.

" Fuuuuuck ." He drags the word out. "I'm so not going to last."

I jerk him again, and he makes another strangled sound. I continue playing with him, all the while his breaths getting more and more choked like he's literally struggling to breathe. Suddenly, his hand comes out of nowhere, wrapping around my wrist and stifling my movements.

"Enough," he barks.

"But I?—"

My words are cut off as he slams his mouth against mine in a rough yet brief kiss. He presses his forehead against mine, his eyes darkening by the second, a crazed look in his eyes I haven't seen before .

"If you want to get me off, then ride my cock, honey."

I'm not stupid enough to ignore his request. I use his shoulders to push myself up, holding my underwear to the side and sliding over him.

He was wrong , I think as I sink lower.

"I can't." I shake my head when he's not even halfway in. "You're too big."

"Breathe." Hayes pulls me toward him, pressing his forehead against mine. "Just breathe."

I exhale, taking another half inch.

"That's my girl. Just like that," he praises, and warmth spreads through me at his words. "You're doing so good. Taking me so well."

He rubs my back, easing into me with such gentleness, and before I know it, he's right—he will fit. And he feels good. Almost too good. Almost like?—

"Oh god." Panic claws up my throat. "Condom. We didn't…"

"I'm good," he says. "I just got tested at my last physical."

"Me too. I mean, I didn't have a physical, but I was tested recently."

After Marco, actually, but I don't tell him that. He doesn't need to know I slept with my last boss too.

"Then I'm good if you are."

I nod. I'm good. So good. Especially when he rolls his hips into me. I moan, head rolling back, eyes falling closed.

"Hey, no." He tugs on my hair, just hard enough for it to throb a little, and I peel my eyes back open. "Look at me when I'm inside you, Quinn. I want to see you when I make you scream my name. Understood?"

I nod, and he rocks into me once more.

"Good. Now, put your hands behind your back and ride me like you mean it, honey."