Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(66)

“Stop starting conversations with why and what.”

“Hey, baby. Why did you cut your hair?”

I lean back, pressing myself closer to his warm body. “You can’t ignore my questions and expect I’ll answer yours.”

His muscles bunch, his chest suddenly brittle. “You’re asking for trouble, Mia. Don’t think I won’t put you over my knee for acting out.” He places his hand on the keys, adding a few notes to the melody I’m playing. “I never leave the office before six. Once I’m done there, I stop by the restaurant, Q, and all the cocktail bars I own. I’m usually home around nine.”

“Short day today?”

“I couldn’t get home fast enough. Your turn. Why did you cut your hair?”

“It caught fire,” I admit, adamant about keeping the lies to a minimum. “Candles,” I add quietly so he doesn’t hear my voice breaking. “I wanted to take a candlelit bath... I lit the candles, leaned over the tub, and puff... my hair went up in flames. You have no idea how fast it burns. It’s a miracle I saved as much as I did.”

He moves my hair to the front, looking down my blouse. “Fuck... you burned your back. Did you go to the hospital? Why are you wearing a bra? You’re making it worse.”

The song ends abruptly when I straddle him. “I’m fine. It’s just surface burn. It’s tender but doesn’t hurt, and the cream helps.” I press my finger to his lips when he goes to speak. “I’m fine, okay? It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“I know, but you should’ve called me.”

Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against his, basking in the comfort of his undivided attention. I’ve never felt this safe.

“I missed you.”

He grips the nape of my neck, catching my lips with his. He’s a ten already. No need for pointers, but I’m not about to tell him. I wouldn’t mind if he kept practicing until the end of time. His tongue teases mine, tasting, tangling, and rekindling the ache he extinguished this morning.

Pushing his big hands under my skirt, he sinks his fingers in my hips, hard enough that an aroused thrill tingles my thighs but not hard enough to bruise. I grind into him, my panties soaked, desire like hot honey coursing through my veins.

“Good girl,” he growls in my ear, nipping the soft skin. “Do that again. Use me. Make yourself feel good.”

I circle my hips, loving the friction his zipper offers. “I want you in,” I whisper, tilting my head back as he kisses my neck.

“Cough, cough... is that what we should expect to walk into all the time?” Cody snaps us out of our lustful haze. “Get a room.”

“Get a house,” Nico fires back, but he sounds amused as he drags his hands down my thighs, looking over his shoulder. “Food’s here. Thalia sent your favorite.”

“Hell yes!” Conor cheers, rubbing his hands together. “I’m fucking starving.”

“When aren’t you?” Colt mutters, opening the boxes.

“Before we eat...” I say, and making sure the triplets aren’t watching, I discreetly grind into Nico again. “How would you feel about going away with me?”

“Do that a few more times, and I’ll let you take me wherever you want.”

“Europe,” I supply, circling my hips a little more. “My dad called earlier. Now that I jumped out of a plane, he’s bugging me to fly to Monaco. I always wanted to see the Grand Prix there, and I have a better chance of surviving the flight if you’re with me. I know you can’t leave work for long, but...” I press into him harder, his eyes hooding over. “Maybe a week?”

He grips my thighs, holding me in place. “I’ll see if I can find someone to keep an eye on everything while we’re gone.” He kisses my head, patting my hip so I’ll get off him, then disappears into the kitchen to fetch plates.

A sudden headrush hits me when I cross the room to sit on the sofa. “Figures...” I sigh, watching the first drop of blood plip into my hand.

I pinch the soft part of my nose with two fingers, making a small bowl with the other hand to catch the blood before it stains Nico’s white rug. After the eventful, stress-filled day, the nosebleed doesn’t come as a surprise. I half expected it to happen when the triplets brought me home.

Cody glances up, his brows meeting in the middle. “Shit. Another one? Hold on, I’ll grab a towel.”

Nico comes back, his step faltering when he looks at me. “What happened?” The plates clatter as he drops them on the table, rips his white t-shirt off his back, and wipes my hands. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I’m okay,” I mumble through the fabric he presses to my nose.

“Tilt your head back, baby.”

I look at Colt, hoping he’ll explain because right now, I need to breathe through my mouth, not talk, or blood will trickle down my throat.

“It’s actually the wrong way to do it. Trust me, bro. She’s doing this right. She gets nosebleeds a lot.”

“Two, sometimes three times a month,” Cody adds, returning with a roll of paper towels. “Time it,” he tells Conor.

“Way ahead of you.” He taps his watch, stuffing his mouth with chicken skewers.

“Why are you timing it?” Nico asks, stroking my thighs repetitively. “Are the nosebleeds because of the disease she has? I can’t remember the name of it.”