Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(39)

Hayden felt Brent watching her and turned. Somehow he managed to look as troubled as she felt. She felt moisture coating her cheeks and a jolt of surprise passed through her. When was the last time she’d cried? Her sophomore year of high school. She’d been laid up in bed after having her tonsils removed, woozy from painkillers. Beaches had come on and she hadn’t been able to find the remote control to change the channel.

Brent reached a hand out to swipe her tears away, but she jerked out of his reach. Fist clenched in midair, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She could tell from his expression that he knew her tears weren’t of the happy variety. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”

“N-nothing.” She swiped impatiently at her tears. “I was…I was just thinking about that movie Beaches.”

A single eyebrow rose. “That had to be the last thing I expected you to say.” He looked thoughtful. “Well, maybe not the last. If you’d said something about the Mets’ batting order, I might have fainted.” When she didn’t respond to his attempt at levity, he sighed, but thankfully he didn’t press, nor did he look at her with anything resembling judgment. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel? I’ll…tell them you went to find your camera.”

“Thank you,” Hayden managed, before taking off in the opposite direction from which they’d been walking, feeling Brent’s gaze on her back as she went. She was thankful for the reprieve. In her current state of mind, she’d only tarnish her friends’ happy moment.

Her intention had been to return to her room. Experience her first cry in a decade with a pillow pressed to her face. Instead, she found herself veering into the first bar she passed upon entering the casino. Before she’d even settled onto the barstool, she’d signaled the bartender.

“Tequila, please.”





Chapter Thirteen


Brent paced the hallway outside Hayden’s room, trying to hold on to his patience. After congratulating Story and Daniel, who’d been too enamored with each other to do anything but acknowledge him with a smile, he’d gone in search of Hayden. Obviously, he’d tried her room first. Then he’d checked the pool and every chick-themed store in the place. Explaining his bigfoot-sized presence in Bath & Body Works had been a real scream.

Why had he let her go off by herself, clearly distraught? He’d watched her standing there in the waning sun, tears streaming down her cheeks, her beauty and vulnerability knocking the breath out of him. Then it all changed. Her features clouded, her shoulders sagged. If his ill-advised comment just seconds before did that to her, he’d kick his own ass. He’d said it expecting her to come right back at him with a rejoinder as she always did, yet she’d abandoned the fight. She must know he didn’t mean it. Jesus, wasn’t it obvious how badly he wanted her? He could no more change his mind about her than he could fit into a child-sized leotard.

He heard the elevator ping and hoped like hell it was Hayden inside. Instead, two thirty-something women got off. Stumbling around a little, they were clearly tipsy. They both came up short when they saw him, bursting out laughing when one got brave and sent him an exaggerated wink. Brent sighed. Then it dawned on him where Hayden would have gone. Good thing he wasn’t a detective like Troy or the streets would be overrun with criminals.

Before the elevator could close, he stuck his hand in between the doors to stop their progress and got on, impatiently pressing the lobby button. He started with the bar closest to where he’d seen her re-enter on the casino level. Gypsy Bar. Blaring music and laughter greeted him when he walked inside. When the doorman asked for his ID, Brent gave him a look that said seriously man? And kept walking.

He checked the bar area first, not finding her there. Early on a Saturday night, the room hadn’t yet filled to capacity, but was still reasonably busy. Several customers were already dancing, Brent noticed. Then he did a double take. Hayden, drink in hand, danced in the middle of a large group like her life depended on it. Arms in the air, hips twisting. He’d never seen her look so uninhibited apart from their one night together when she’d transformed before his very eyes. As Brent moved closer, he saw that her skin was rosy and slightly dewy from exertion, the blue dress clinging to her curves as she moved her hips to the rhythm. Her hair had finally given up its battle with perfection, curling at the ends, a dark wave coming down to obscure half her face. She looked how he imagined she would if he ever got her into bed again. Without a time limit or any ridiculous rules. He got hard thinking about it. Watching her dip and sway, he imagined her on top of him instead, riding out her orgasm with the use of his body.

If you stand here ogling her like a jackass any longer, you’ll embarrass yourself. Not to mention, he wasn’t the only male who’d taken notice of Hayden. When one such guy elbowed his buddy and nodded in Hayden’s direction, Brent’s feet were moving purposefully toward her before he’d even made a conscious decision. When he got within five feet, she looked up as if she’d sensed him. Heat thrummed low in his belly when he got a close look at her. Perfectly polished Hayden made him hot, but this girl…f*ck, she burned him from the inside.

She’d always accused him of being a caveman. Right now, he could freely admit she’d been right. A furious, pounding need began inside him. Something about her lost expression, her defenselessness, called to that deeply primal part of him. The one that demanded he throw her over his shoulder and take her home so he could pleasure her, see to her needs, until she fell asleep and forgot why she’d been troubled in the first place. When she woke up again, he’d be inside her. Between thrusts, he’d gladly inform her that her man had taken care of her problems, just like he always would. Then he’d f*ck her back to sleep.