Chapter 31

Victoria

Hayden lookslike some kind of hero from the Wild West striding across the the field, duster coat billowing behind him, spurs jingling as he walks. If I didn't know we were doing an Old West setting of Julius Caesar, I'd think he was the sheriff—or maybe the leader of the band of outlaws—in a western.

He looks good in the slim pants and vest under the duster, and I could see him in something similar to go out for a date. Different fabrics, obviously, and without the Old West styling. But slim fit pants work well on his narrow frame, and a pinstripe vest accentuates his trim waist and broad shoulders. The tux he wore at his last red carpet event was too loose. His stylist needs to have his clothes fit his body more closely. It works better for him, in my opinion.

He quirks an eyebrow as he steps closer to me, his smile undimmed. "You checking me out?"

I give him a cheeky grin in return. "Only in a professional capacity."

That makes him laugh. "Oh really? And what's your professional opinion?"

After a quick glance around to make sure no one's watching us, I place my hands on his waist, still looking him up and down. "These clothes suit you. And the tux you wore at your last event was too big. And you should always go for a three-piece suit with a long tie, never the cummerbund and bow tie combo. The long sleek look works much better for you."

He's still grinning, and he ducks his head for a quick kiss. "I thought you were joking about the professional comment, but I see you've proved me wrong."

I shrug one shoulder. "I can't help it. But I also appreciate your body in general."

That makes him laugh, and he reaches behind me to open his trailer. "Good. I appreciate your body in general too."

I snicker, realizing what a terrible compliment that really is. "Sorry." I climb into the trailer, grinning when he grabs my ass as he follows me inside. "I realize how pathetic of a compliment that is." Turning, I bracket his waist with my hands again. "Your body's amazing, and you're gorgeous."

His eyes twinkle as he brushes a strand of hair out of my face. "You didn't need to apologize, but thank you. Your body is also amazing, and you're beautiful."

My cheeks heat in a blush, and he laughs. I'm still not used to how free he is with his compliments, and comments like that about my body make me blush every time. It doesn't matter that he's sincere. In fact, it's the sincerity that makes me blush.

He kisses me, and all thoughts of blushing or how unused to compliments I am fly away. He does that to me every time—makes me stop thinking and worrying about everything else with just a kiss. At least while he's kissing me. Because usually, I'm all too aware of the ticking clock and how much time I have before the next thing on my agenda.

Fortunately, the next thing on my agenda is spending time with Hayden. We have over twelve hours of uninterrupted time together.

He ends the kiss but gives me several more pecks, obviously reluctant to let me go, despite the fact that he knows we have all night too. "Let me get changed, and then we can head out," he murmurs against my lips.

I laugh into his mouth when he kisses me again, and he finally ends the kiss and lets me go, swatting my ass lightly before stepping away. "Should I head out so I don't distract you?"

"Nooo," he whines. "You just got here. You can't leave already."

I laugh at the way he sounds just like my preteen. "Then hurry up and change, and we can go together."

He grins. "I like the sound of that plan."

I turn my back to the open bedroom area, not because he really needs privacy, but because we'll both get distracted if I'm watching him undress. I know I'd prefer to indulge our desires in the privacy of my home rather than his not-as-private trailer, and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way.

A few short minutes later, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses the side of my neck. I melt in pleasure at the feeling of his lips on my skin, reaching behind me to caress the nape of his neck.

He nips at me with his teeth, soothing the sting with another kiss. "Come on," he murmurs, his lips still mapping the line of my neck. "If we don't get out of here soon, we might end up spending the night here."

I let out a low chuckle. "I think my house is more comfortable."

"I agree."

"Plus," I add, "there's food."

Stepping away, he swats my ass. "If I wasn't already sold on the idea, that'd do it right there."

Turning, I grin at him. "Hungry?"

"Starved." The glint in his eye lets me know he's as starved for me as he is for food.

I exit the trailer first, striding purposefully toward my car. He'll follow behind me so he has his own vehicle when it's time to leave in the morning. Part of me wants to tell him to just ride with me, but my practical side insists that having our own vehicles is the smart play. And I know it's the truth, I just don't like being separated from him when I've finally gotten him all to myself.

Unsurprisingly, I arrive at my house first. I'm not sure how long he waited after I left to start driving, but I figure it can't have been long when he pulls into my driveway less than a minute after I've gotten inside my house.

I open the door before he can even knock, my grin matching his. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and then his arms lock around me, his lips fuse to mine, and it's everything we've both been craving for far too long. Urgency drives our movements, but not the same breathless hurrying that tinges our stolen moments in his trailer. We have plenty of time, so even though we're dying to get each other naked, it's tempered with the knowledge that no one has to get dressed and rush off soon. And we won't be interrupted by someone looking for one or both of us.

A trail of discarded clothes marks our progress from the front door to my bedroom, and by the time we get to my bed, I'm down to the lacy black thong I wore today since I knew Hayden would be seeing it. I scoot backward onto the bed, and Hayden follows me, his fingers tracing the lace running over my hip, a smile tipping his lips. "Beautiful," he whispers, kissing my lower belly and hooking his hands into the lace and gently tugging it free.

Once it's off, he settles between my legs, looking up at me as he caresses my inner thighs. "I've been craving you—craving this—for far too long."

His words send a thrill through me, but they also find their way into a crack in the armor around my heart, wanting to pry it open. This thing between us is getting more real, less fling and more relationship, and that feels dangerous. So I deflect with flippancy and arch an eyebrow. "Then what are you waiting for?"

He chuckles, but doesn't wait a moment longer, thumbing me open and licking from opening to clit. I gasp at the contact, but he doesn't change it up—not yet. He knows that despite my sounds, I'm nowhere near ready for more focused contact, so he keeps up the long slow swipes of his tongue, licking me like an ice cream cone until I give some signal that he can read but I'm unaware of to start focusing more on my clit.

Honestly, the fact that he can read my reactions so well, that he knows exactly what I need and when I need it, is as disconcerting as everything else. This thing between us has been more than a fling for a while, maybe always, and that only makes the inevitable end harder to face.

But that's the last thing I want to think about while a gorgeous man's head is between my thighs, his tongue on my clit, his fingers moving inside me, so I push those thoughts away, focusing instead on the rising sensation in my body, the tingles sparking in my limbs and gathering in my center. He redoubles his efforts, sensing that I'm starting to get close, sucking my clit between his lips and doing something amazing with his tongue that makes my brain explode, shortly followed by my body.

My orgasm rips through me, my muscles clenching, my pussy spasming around his fingers in a primal rhythm of pleasure that he always succeeds in calling forth.

This man is ruining me, and even though I'm dreading him leaving, I don't think I'd choose any differently if I had it to do all over again.

He licks me a few more times, causing aftershocks to shudder through my body, then he kisses my inner thigh, wiping his face with his hand as he climbs over me. "That's my girl," he murmurs as he kisses me. "I love watching you come and feeling you pulse on my tongue like that."

For once, my cheeks don't heat in an automatic blush. He says things like that a lot, and I'm too languid with satisfaction—and used to it now—to feel any amount of embarrassment.

Instead, I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. He kisses me again, the faint tang of my juices still on his lips and tongue. He grinds his hard cock into my belly, and I wrap a leg around him. "I need you," I whisper against his lips.

With a groan, he pulls away and gets out a condom from the stash I put in the drawer of my bedside table in anticipation of tonight. After tearing open the package, he rolls it on and inches closer, rubbing the broad head of his cock over my slick pussy before lining up and sinking inside me. He takes his time, pushing inside and withdrawing before going a little further on each stroke. When his hips finally meet mine, he drops to his hands over me, grinding against me before pulling out almost all the way and starting a slow, steady pace, fucking me deep and hard. I wrap my legs around his hips, using my leverage to meet him on each thrust, and he groans, going down to his elbows and burying his face in the crook of my neck.

He picks up the pace, riding me as he chases his release. I soak in his grunts and groans, the way his muscles tense under my hands, his ass clenching under my legs, and I relish every second of it. If this is it, if this is all we get, I don't want to waste a single precious moment. I want to drown myself in the time we have together so I'll have it to look back on with fondness during the long, lonely nights I'll be left with when he's gone.

His hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he gets close, and I squeeze him with my internal muscles, wanting to do all I can to help him get there.

He comes with a shudder and a low groan into my hair, his weight pleasantly heavy as he lets more of it rest on me. I wrap my arms around him, holding him tight, doing my best to stifle the tears pricking behind my tightly closed eyelids.

This is supposed to be our night—fun and relaxed and happy, and tears have no place here. There'll be time enough for that next month when we have to say goodbye. And I don't want him to notice and worry now. I don't want to ruin what might be the last precious night we have just for ourselves.

After a moment, he pulls out and disposes of the condom, and I have enough time to compose myself by the time he finishes washing his hands and comes back to bed. He stops in the doorway, smiling at me with warm affection, and then he crosses the room and climbs in with me, turning me so that we're spooning, his arms wrapped around me. He drops a kiss on the side of my head and lets out a contented sigh. "This is perfect."

My sigh answers his, and I hold his arm to me, snuggling into him as far as I can. "So perfect."

We're both quiet for a long moment, and his breathing deepens enough that I wonder if he's fallen asleep. I know I'm exhausted from the last couple weeks. It'd stand to reason that he is too. Even if it makes our sleep schedule tonight totally bonkers, taking a nap right now sounds really appealing.

But after a moment, he kisses me again and gives me a squeeze. "I've been thinking," he starts, and while there's clearly more he wants to say, he doesn't say it right away.

"Yeah?" I prompt after several heartbeats pass—though my heart rate kicked up immediately at his statement, so maybe that isn't so long after all. "What about?"

He sucks in a deep breath, his chest expanding against my back. "You. Me. Us."

"Oh, yeah? Anything specific you want to share?" My thoughts race. Is he ending it early? Is the fact that Mia knows some kind of death knell? He seemed okay when it happened, and anyway, didn't he suggest we tell her before? Why would that be a reason to end things?

He hums, which does nothing to assuage my spiraling anxiety. "If all your bills were taken care of and you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?"

I freeze at the question, my mouth open, though I'm not sure if it's from shock or just pure paralysis at the unexpected—and heavy—question. Because is the implication?—

"How would my bills be taken care of?" I ask, the question coming out sharp, almost angry. "Who's taking care of them?" Are you taking care of my bills in this hypothetical scenario?

Who else would be, though?

He grunts. "You would. By doing whatever it is you want. Just, what would you do? If you could do anything, what would it be? Somehow I don't think cleaning teeth is it." He levers up on one elbow, rolling me to my back so he can make eye contact, his amber eyes sparking with laughter as his eyebrows arch high on his forehead. "Or did you play pretend dentist when you were a kid, giving your Barbies dental checkups?"

Laughing, I shake my head. "No. I told you. I became a dental hygienist for the stability after I had Erin. I needed a good job that paid enough to support the both of us. And I got lucky that Dr. Banks needed a new hygienist when I was looking for a job. It meant being able to stay here and my parents helping with childcare when Erin was little and not having to move to a different city for work and pay for daycare. But no, it's not what I dreamed of doing as a kid."

He strokes my skin, his eyes tracking the movement. "You went to school for fashion design, didn't you? Originally?"

"Yes," I answer slowly, not quite sure where this is going.

"Would you do that?" He meets my eyes again. "If you could? If it were possible and you could support yourself, is that what you would want?"

I consider the question for a moment, pressing my lips together. It's clear he's serious with his question, but I'm really not sure where this is coming from, or where he's going with it. And the change of direction from thinking he might be breaking up with me to this is giving me mental whiplash.

Finally, I spread my hands in front of me, palms up. "Maybe? I don't know. I don't really see how it would be possible, though. I was only one semester into the program before I got pregnant. I finished my freshman year, but that was it. It's not like I even started the real design classes. It was how to go from the basics of sewing to professional looking garments, which, don't get me wrong, has been very useful. And I enjoy making things for Erin and me, but I'm not sure how much of a career I can make of it."

I pause, and he can read me so well that he can tell I'm holding something back. "What?" he prompts. "What is it? What are you thinking?"

Sighing, I shake my head. "It's just funny you bring this up now. I was just thinking the other day about how Brit offered me space in her store to sell a few things if I wanted. She made the offer months ago, and I waved her off. But …" I bite my lip and shrug one shoulder. "I dunno. I'm thinking I might take her up on the offer. Give it a try and see what happens."

Hayden grins widely. "I think that sounds amazing. You should absolutely do that. And I can also help you out. If you want."