Page 36 of Broken Roads (Hard to Handle #1)

Bradley

S leep has become my enemy. Every time I close my eyes, my mind replays her on my lap, those little gasps she made when I touched her, the way she trembled against me when she came.

I flip onto my stomach for the hundredth time, burying my face in the pillow to muffle a groan.

Bandit huffs from the foot of the bed, clearly judging my restlessness with all the superiority a dog can muster.

"I know, I know," I mutter to him, earning another disgruntled snort as he rearranges himself, deliberately turning his back to me.

The sheets tangle around my waist as I roll over again, my body still humming with an energy that refuses to dissipate.

My cock is half-hard just from the memory of Hailey grinding against me on that bench, and her mouth hot and eager against mine.

Fucking hell, what was I thinking stopping us?

Being a gentleman seemed like the right call at the time, but now, staring at the ceiling while my body aches for her, I'm questioning my sanity.

I glance at the clock. I've been tossing and turning for three hours, and sleep seems further away than ever. With a resigned sigh, I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Bandit lifts his head, one ear cocked in question.

"Just getting water," I tell him. "Stay."

He doesn't need to be told twice, his head already dropping back down as I pull on a pair of pajama bottoms. I don't bother with a shirt; the house is warm enough, and I'm not expecting to run into anyone at this hour.

I'm halfway to the kitchen when I notice the soft glow spilling from the doorway. Someone else is awake. My first thought is Ruthie—she sometimes gets up for midnight baking sessions when she can't sleep—but there's no scent of butter or vanilla in the air, no sound of mixing bowls being arranged.

When I reach the doorway, I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Hailey stands at the sink with her back to me, wearing nothing but a thin tank top and sleep shorts that barely cover the curve of her ass. Her hair is loose, falling in dark waves down her back.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of her, all soft curves and smooth skin. She hasn't noticed me yet, too focused on filling a glass with water from the tap. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath, the slight shift of her weight from one foot to the other.

Without conscious thought, I move toward her, drawn like a magnet to its opposite pole.

My bare feet make no sound on the kitchen tiles, allowing me to close the distance between us undetected.

When I'm directly behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, I plant my hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in.

She startles, a small gasp escaping her lips as her body tenses, then immediately relaxes as she recognizes my presence.

"Couldn't sleep either, sunshine?" I murmur, my lips close enough to her ear that my breath stirs her hair.

"Bradley," she whispers, her voice husky with surprise. She doesn't turn around, but her body arches slightly, her back pressing against my chest in silent invitation. "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Mhm," I hum against the skin just below her ear. "Been lying awake for hours, thinking about you. About us on that bench." My hands slide from the counter to her hips, tracing the sliver of exposed skin where her tank top has ridden up. "About the sounds you made when you came for me."

Her breath hitches, her head falling back against my shoulder. "Bradley—"

"I can't stop thinking about those sounds," I continue, my voice dropping lower as my thumbs trace circles on her hipbones.

"Can't stop wondering what other noises I can pull from that pretty mouth of yours.

Can't stop imagining how you'd sound with my fingers inside you, with my mouth on you.

" I press my hips forward, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. "With my cock filling you up."

A soft moan escapes her, the sound shooting straight to my groin. My already hardening cock thickens fully, pressing insistently against the thin cotton of my pajamas and the curve of her ass.

"There it is," I growl, one hand sliding up to cup her breast through her tank top while the other drifts lower, tracing the waistband of her shorts. "That's what I've been craving. Let me hear you again, sunshine. Let me make you feel good."

"Yes," she breathes, arching into my touch as my fingers find her nipple, rolling the hardened peak between thumb and forefinger. "Please, Bradley."

The needy catch in her voice snaps the last thread of my restraint. My hand dips beneath the elastic of her shorts, sliding past the barrier of her panties to find her already wet for me. We both groan at the contact.

"Fuck, you're soaked," I murmur against her neck, my teeth grazing the tender skin there. "Is this all for me?"

She gasps as my middle finger circles her clit with deliberate pressure. "Been thinking about you all night, too. About what would have happened if you hadn't stopped us."

The confession makes my cock throb against her ass, and I can't resist grinding against her while my fingers continue their exploration. I find her entrance, teasing it with the tip of my finger without pushing inside, enjoying the way she whimpers and pushes back against me.

"Tell me what you want," I demand, my voice rough with need. "Say it out loud."

She grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white with tension as she rocks against my hand. "Your fingers," she manages, the words strained. "Inside me. Please."

I reward her by slowly sinking a finger into her pussy, groaning at how tight and wet she feels around it. "Like this?" I ask, withdrawing almost completely before pushing back in, deeper this time.

"More," she pleads. "I need more."

I add a second finger on the next thrust, stretching her gently as my palm grinds against her clit. Her head falls back against my shoulder again, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, flushed and desperate, coming apart under my touch.

"That's it," I encourage, establishing a rhythm that has her hips moving in sync with my hand. "Show me how you like it."

My fingers curl inside her, searching for that spot that will make her see stars. When I find it, her whole body jolts and a choked cry escapes her.

"Bradley," she moans, the sound sending fresh heat surging through me. "I'm close. So close."

"I know, sunshine," I murmur, increasing the pace of my fingers. "I can feel it."

My own hips move against her, seeking friction against the perfect curve of her ass.

The thin fabric of our clothes does little to dull the sensation, and each roll of my hips sends pleasure spiraling through me.

I'm dangerously close to the edge myself, driven there by the sounds she makes and the way she moves against me.

"Let go," I command. "Come for me, sunshine."

As if she was waiting for permission, her body goes rigid before convulsing around my fingers.

A broken cry tears from her throat as her inner walls clamp down, pulsing rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure washes through her.

I keep my fingers moving, gentler now, drawing out her orgasm as long as possible.

The sight of her coming undone, combined with the pressure of her ass grinding back against me, is more than I can handle.

With a strangled groan, I thrust against her one final time, my release hitting me with unexpected force.

I bury my face in her neck, muffling my sounds against her skin as I make a mess I can't bring myself to care about.

For several heartbeats, we stay frozen in that position, her back to my front, both of us breathing hard as the aftershocks ripple through our bodies.

Slowly, I withdraw my fingers from her, earning a small whimper at the loss.

I press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck, then her jaw, before she turns in my arms, her lips seeking mine in a kiss that steals my breath.

When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. A smile tugs at my lips despite the sticky discomfort in my pants. "Well," I murmur, "that wasn't exactly how I planned this night to go."

A soft laugh escapes her, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "No complaints from me, cowboy."

I'm about to suggest we take this to my bedroom, to continue what we've started properly, when a sound from the hallway freezes us both in place.

"Who's down here at this hour?" Ruthie's voice cuts through the post-orgasm haze like a bucket of ice water. Hailey freezes in my arms, her eyes wide with panic. My heart, which had just started to slow, kicks back into overdrive.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Ruthie's distinctive shuffle-step sounds in the hallway.

We have maybe ten seconds before she reaches the kitchen.

My mind races through options at lightning speed.

Dash for the back door? Too noisy. Hide behind the island?

Too exposed. Pretend we're just getting water?

With both of us looking disheveled and a wet spot on my pajamas? Not happening.

"Pantry," I mouth, grabbing her wrist. She nods frantically, allowing me to guide her across the kitchen in three quick strides. Yanking the door open, I wince at the slight creak of the hinges and pull her inside just as Ruthie's shadow appears in the doorway.

I close the door as silently as possible, leaving it open just a crack—a fully closed door would look suspicious if Ruthie happened to notice.

The space is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, especially when one of those people is my size.

Hailey's back is pressed against the shelves, my chest flush against hers, and our legs are tangled together in the confined space.

Her breath comes in shallow pants against my collarbone, her body still trembling slightly from our earlier activities. My own breathing isn't much better, adrenaline and lingering desire making it impossible to calm down.

"Hello?" Ruthie calls out, her voice closer now. "Is someone in here?"

Hailey's fingers dig into my biceps as we listen to Ruthie moving around the kitchen. The clink of a glass being taken from the cabinet. The sound of the tap running. The fridge opening and closing. Each noise amplified by our fear of discovery.

I look down at Hailey, still able to make out her features in the dim light filtering through the slats of the pantry door. Even in our predicament, I'm struck by how fucking beautiful she is. A smile tugs at my lips despite our situation, and I see an answering one flicker across her face.

From our hiding spot, I can just see Ruthie through the crack in the door as she settles at the table with her glass of water, opening a magazine she must have brought with her.

Fuck. She's staying.

Hailey's eyes widen as she reaches the same conclusion.

Her hand finds mine in the darkness, our fingers interlacing in silent communication.

I squeeze gently, trying to convey reassurance I don't entirely feel.

If Ruthie catches us like this—me shirtless, her in those tiny sleep shorts, both of us disheveled—we'll never hear the end of it.

My legs are starting to cramp from holding still in such a confined space.

A bead of sweat trickles down my spine, more from nervousness than heat.

The irony of our situation isn't lost on me.

Less than five minutes ago, I had her coming apart under my hands, making noises that would have woken the entire household if she hadn't been trying to stay quiet.

Now we're hiding like teenagers caught sneaking out, barely daring to breathe.

Hailey shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, and her hip brushes against my groin. Despite our predicament, my body responds immediately, cock twitching with interest. Her eyes dart down, then back up to my face, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her expression.

"Really?" she mouths silently.

I give a helpless shrug, earning an eye roll that somehow manages to be both exasperated and fond.

To distract myself from the renewed desire coursing through my veins, I focus on Ruthie, visible through the crack in the door.

She turns a page in her magazine, sips her water, and seems completely content to take her time.

An eternity passes. My left foot has gone completely numb. Hailey's breathing has slowed, but I can still feel the tension in her body where it presses against mine. Finally, finally , Ruthie stands, rinsing her glass in the sink and placing it on the drying rack.

We hold our breath as her footsteps retreat down the hallway, waiting until we hear the distinct sound of her bedroom door closing before exhaling in unison. Even then, I count to thirty in my head before daring to push the pantry door open.

Hailey steps out first, stretching her cramped muscles. I follow, my foot tingling painfully as blood flow returns. When I look at her, I can't help the laugh that bubbles up from my chest.

"What's so funny?" she whispers, though there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Just..." I gesture between us, at the pantry we've just emerged from. "All of this. Hiding from Ruthie like we're sixteen and breaking curfew."

Her smile widens, a soft laugh escaping her. "Speak for yourself. I never did anything this exciting at sixteen."

I step closer, unable to keep my hands to myself now that we're free from our hiding place.

Circling her waist, I pull her against me.

"You make me feel like a teenager," I admit, the words coming easier than I expected.

"Sneaking around, unable to keep my hands off you, coming in my pants from just grinding against you. "

Her cheeks flush at the reminder, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she rises on her tiptoes, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. "I like it," she murmurs against my mouth. "I like this side of you."

I kiss her again, deeper this time, pouring everything I can't yet say into the connection between us. When we break apart, I'm grinning like an idiot, feeling lighter than I have in years.

"Come on," I whisper, taking her hand. "Let's get back upstairs before Ruthie decides she needs a snack too."

She follows me willingly, our fingers intertwined as we navigate the moonlit hallway.

Whatever this is between us—this magnetic pull, this uncontrollable desire, this growing tenderness—it's only just beginning.

And for the first time in my life, I'm ready to see where it leads, no matter how terrifying the journey might be.