Page 38

Story: Hello Trouble

“Matched perfectly with your chrome table,” I pouted.
He stacked it on top of the pillow.
Then he pulled out a potted aloe vera, the ferns drooping sadly. “Yours as well?”
I gasped. “You didn’t even water it?”
“Fuck no!” He picked up the pile and passed it to me. “Plants say ‘I can take care of things.’ Like a child. Or a piece of furniture that needs put together. Or your dog that just got neutered and looks all sad at you in those stupid cones.” Even though I was holding the pillow and table runner in my hands, he didn’t back away. Instead, he leaned in. This close, I could see the ink curling up his neck. The glint of the light off his lip ring. Could smell his cologne mixed with the earthy scent of his garage.
And damn if it wasn’t just as intoxicating as too many trips to the box of wine in my fridge.
My eyes traced his lips as he said, “Trust me, Princess, the only thing I want to spend my time taking care of is a woman in bed.”
I couldn’t help it.
I laughed.
Hayes looked horrified. “What, you don’t believe me?” he asked.
I held all my items in my arms, still managing to shrug. “You’re just an awful lot of talk, that’s all.” I was playing with fire. The flames dancing in his eyes told me so.
But then those flames licked my skin as he pulled the items from my arms, stalked me like prey until I was backed up against his wall. Nowhere to go with his body mere centimeters from mine, arms bracketed on either side of my shoulders.
He leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Tell me, Princess. Would you like me to be more action?”
19
DELLA
A silent gasp passed my lips at what Hayes was saying.
Was he offering... I glanced up, looking at him from under my lashes, and found his mouth dangerously close to mine.
My heart was galloping ahead of my mind, desperate to get lost in Hayes Madigan’s special brand of danger. To forget his rules, even if it was in my heart’s best interest to stay away from the man who swore my dreams were unrealistic.
I tipped up my chin, inching closer to his lips.
His gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth.
He leaned ever closer.
And just when our lips were bound to touch, he pulled away. “I... I can’t.” His eyes pressed closed like he was in physical pain at the thought of kissing me.
Hot, painful embarrassment went searing through me.
He stepped back. “I’m sorry, I?—”
I shook my head, not wanting to hear his apology or his reasons for shying away when he had me on a platter before him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here,” I whispered, hot tears threatening to fall.
Maybe running away was in my cards after all, because I turned tail and left his house, hurrying toward my car and wishing I’d have parked closer after all.
Suddenly, I felt stupid for dressing this way. Acting this way as a grown woman. Pranking a grown man who had no intention of making me his, all the while knowing I had a date with Bennett this very evening.
Shit.
My date with Bennett!
I lifted my arm to check my smartwatch.