Instead of You(83)

“Is this okay?” I whispered, just before I yawned again.

“Yeah, Kenzie. Go to sleep,” he said, and pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

I pressed in closer, unable to believe I was really cuddling with Hayes Wallace, but willing to live in the dream until I woke up.

“Uh, hey, Kenz?” His voice was a strange mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Yeah?”

“Why are your feet wet?”

I let out a laugh. “They turned black from the walk, so I washed them in your tub.”




When I woke up, Hayes was still wrapped around me, but he was spooning me from behind. I was on my side, his arm acting as my pillow, his other arm draped over my waist, hand splayed across my belly. His front was pressed against my back and there was absolutely no space between us. I slowly woke, loving the feeling of his body encasing mine, and then I realized the hand near my face was entwined with my own.

We’d held hands while we slept.

I closed my eyes, willing myself not fall in love with him all over again.

The night before had been practically magical. After the initial weirdness, once we’d both decided to let our walls down, the rest of the evening had been incredible. We’d never lacked for something to talk about, there were never any awkward silences, and when he spoke about his life back in Montana I didn’t find myself angry with him for it.

I was just so glad to have him back, in any capacity.

But lying there, his arms wrapped possessively around me, I found myself afraid long walks were all we had in store for us. I sighed, pressing my face into his forearm, trying to take in as much of the moment as I could. I must have woken him though, because his arm tightened around me and pulled me even closer, his face nuzzling into my neck. He took in a deep breath through his nose, and I stilled as his hand started to roam across my front, coming to rest just below my breasts.

“For three years,” he said, his words a soft feather against the shell of my ear, “I spent my life thinking I’d never get to wake up to you again.” His face pressed in close again.

“Hayes,” I cried, half whispering.

“What, baby?”

Oh, God.

“What are we doing?”

At my question, his arm slid out from under me and I rolled toward him. He quickly pushed up onto his elbow and stared down at me. “I know what I want, McKenzie. I want us. I want you. But I know I’m the one who walked away before, the one who ended it. So, I don’t feel like the ball’s in my court.” His hand moved from my chest and came to cup my face. “I’ve loved you through everything and I want you more than anything, but I understand if you get up, leave, and never give me more than a passing wave.”

His hands were on me, he was over me, and his eyes were boring into mine. The same eyes I’d seen nearly every day of my life, and the thought of not seeing them every day for the rest of it seemed unimaginable.

So I did the only thing I felt right about doing.

I leaned up and I kissed him.

I must have caught him off guard because at first he didn’t move. For just a split second I worried I’d made the wrong decision. But then, then, he kissed me back. His hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me to him, and his tongue swept in, tasting me.

It was so much better than I remembered.

Suddenly, his arm was beneath me again and he was pulling me under him fully. My legs spread open to accommodate him, and he laid his weight on me. It was glorious. His hands were reacquainting themselves with me, running freely over my arms, my stomach, my thighs—as if they had no idea where to start and couldn’t make up their minds.

When his teeth caught my bottom lip a moan escaped me. My breaths were coming faster, and my body felt as though it was about to ignite. His hips were resting between my thighs and my hands came to his waist, fingers seeking the hem of his shirt and smoothing up the warmth of his bare back. They were trembling, but I ached to feel him.

His mouth moved down my chin, pressing kisses down my throat, his hands bunching up the fabric of the shirt I wore.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked against the skin of my neck.

“No,” I rasped. I pulled up on his shirt, trying to get it off him, and watched with fascination as he reached behind him and tugged on the back of his shirt, removing it in that sexy way guys did. Then, without hesitation, I sat up and pulled my shirt off as well.

His eyes went straight to my breasts and something about the way he looked at me, with so much lust and love swirling together, had every part of me tensing. His lips came back to mine, and his hand smoothed over my breast, as he gently pressed me back into the mattress. This time, though, my legs wrapped around his waist as I tried desperately to bring every part of him closer.

He read me perfectly and ground into me, his erection pressing perfectly against my core, causing another moan to rip from me, disappearing into his mouth. My hands slid down his back and when I met the elastic of his basketball shorts, my fingers slid under, my hands palming his ass.

“These need to come off,” I said. He grunted, his mouth moving down my throat only to have his lips latch onto my nipple, sucking me in, his hand palming my other breast. “Hayes, please,” I rasped.

“Tell me what you want,” he said between flicks of his tongue against my nipple and a long, hard suck that sent electric shocks straight to my core, making everything between my legs clench.