Page 7

RILEY

“So, what happened with Hayes Drayton last night? You guys looked as thick as thieves,” Imani says, eyeing me as she sips her coffee and licks foam from her upper lip.

The campus coffee shop is unusually quiet today, with only three other tables occupied.

“Hayes Drayton?” Katerina twists her long dark hair behind her head and fixes it into place with a leopard-print plastic clip like she means business. “Since when did you start mixing with hockey royalty?”

“Mixing is a stretch,” I say, fiddling with a chocolate chunk that’s fallen from my muffin. Royalty is a definite stretch when it comes to the Drayton brothers.

“You were standing outside the frat house with him, wearing his hoodie,” Imani reminds me.

Immediately, I’m taken back to the clean scent lingering on the fabric and its sheer size as it pooled around me. I’m transported to the moment I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth and the way he froze at the simple touch.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Keeping a low profile slipped from my head after he turned into a hero in the face of a manhandling football douche. It was so unexpected that I forgot who he was and why I wanted to stay as far from the Drayton brothers as possible.

“It was cold, and it turns out he’s not a total asshole.” I stuff a big chunk of muffin into my mouth, hoping it’ll stop Imani from questioning me anymore.

She sips her coffee again and waits me out. “Not all hockey boys are assholes. Look at Malik.”

“He’s your brother, and he’s totally awesome, but he’s still a hockey whore-bag,” I say. “His stick sees more off-ice action than on!”

Imani shrugs and presses her red lips together. “It’s what they do.”

“Not all of them,” Katerina says. “Hayes isn’t like his brothers.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

“Because my cousin plays, too, and he told me Hayes is a loner. He only comes out because his brothers like to party. Never heard him talk about a conquest. Never seen him take a girl home.”

“Doesn’t mean he hasn’t. Maybe he’s an undercover slut.” I pull my sweater closer around me as the door behind opens and cool, fall air streams inside.

Imani’s eyes widen, and she jerks her head in the direction of a figure who’s standing at the counter. Following her gaze, I find Hayes’ hulking form, dressed in gray sweats, a matching hoodie with the Icebreakers logo emblazoned on the back, sneakers so big they look like small boats, and a dark ball cap pulled low over his face. He’s distracted, staring at his phone, unaware that I’m drinking in the insane curve of his fine ass and the way his thighs stretch his pants so perfectly in his wide stance.

“So, what did he do that wasn’t assholey?” Imani whispers.

I quickly fill her and Katerina in on the story, leaving Imani with an annoyingly knowing look that sets a twinkle in her eyes and Katerina chewing her plastic straw thoughtfully.

Katerina lowers the straw to the table. “So, you kissed him out of gratitude?” She raises her dark eyebrows so high, her forehead creases in three deep lines.

“I didn’t mean to,” I hiss. “It was the shock… and Forester was really forceful. I was fighting, but I couldn’t escape his grip.”

“He’s on the shitlist,” Imani says, referring to a list of dudes in circulation amongst the freshman girls. Creeps. Weirdos. The handsy guys. And ones like Forester, who are one step closer to something criminal.

“Right. I need to check out that list again.” I glance over at Hayes again. “Is he on it?”

“No,” Katerina says. “He’s on the other list.”

“What other list?” me and Imani ask in unison.

“The unicorn list.”

“What the fuck is that?” I whisper.

“The ones who are a mystery. No one knows anything about them. No one has a story about their dick or how good they are in bed. They’re either great at keeping their love lives on the down-low or…” Katerina leans in closer, lowering her heavy-lined lids. “A virgin.”

The last two words are said in the lowest of whispers, but even so, they hit me like an arrow, slicing through a part of me that’s hidden and tender. Hayes can’t be a virgin. He’s beautiful. A total smoke-show just like his brothers. If anything, he draws the eye even more because he’s understated and watchful; like a mountain on the horizon, he stands tall and stoic, seemingly unbothered by who’s looking appreciatively in his direction.

My own inexperience is a secret I don’t intend to share, not with my friends, maybe even not with the man I finally end up giving my V-card. There’s too much pressure to make popping the cherry some kind of ethereal experience. I’m too old to do what my friends did. They lost their virginities to their first boyfriends, learning together. Now, I’m left out on a limb, alone in my so-called innocence . At my age, virginity is either a trophy to claim or a badge, labeling me as boring in bed. Neither is appealing.

“He’s not a virgin,” Imani scoffs. “His brothers have plowed their way across most of the campus. He has to be keeping up, doesn’t he?”

Hayes touches the back of his cap, adjusting it so he can talk to the barista. He places his order, taps his card to pay, and steps back from the counter, standing on relaxed, spread legs that inexplicably make me think about the dirtiest kind of fucking; standing, back against the wall, those strong legs and muscled arms supporting my weight while he digs hard and deep between my thighs.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “I mean, look at him.”

“I’d lick it.” Katerina’s tongue slides along the underside of her top lip lasciviously.

“Seriously?” I ask. “I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Katerina’s mom is Greek, and it’s left Katerina with a thing for the Mediterranean-looking dudes on campus. Italians, Greeks, Lebanese. If they’re olive-skinned and dark-haired, Katerina is all over them like humus on a flatbread.

“Generally, he wouldn’t be,” she says. “But Hayes Drayton is intriguing. He gives nothing away.”

“He’s probably into some kinky shit,” Imani says behind a cupped hand. “Like bondage… maybe sex clubs. Secretive debauched sex.”

“He’s not some twisted billionaire with dark predilections from your romance novels. Look at him. He’s more cinnamon roll than whiskey on the rocks.” Although the way he’d relished the Scotch I offered him last night suggests something else. He has a fine palate. Good taste for someone so young.

“He’s more like steak and a baked potato.” Katerina eyes Hayes’ ass like she’s ravenous, and a sliver of jealousy snakes through me.

Stupid .

He’s not mine. Not by a long shot. And I don’t want him to be. But a green, unpleasant part of me doesn’t want him to be anyone else’s, either. What the hell is that about?

I’m questioning myself as he turns holding a large cup, his ocean blue eyes falling on me like a weighted blanket. My traitorous heart rolls over in a huge flopping motion, and my throat makes a weird gulping sound. In a split second, a whole range of emotions travels over his face. Shock, recognition, confusion, uncertainty. His step falters, and he freezes; then, coming back to life, he notices Imani and Katerina and remembers where he is.

When he keeps walking, I exhale, half relieved, half disappointed, turning to Katerina to disagree with her comment about steak and potatoes. But just as I open my mouth, a huge shadow engulfs me from the right. I sense his presence before I see him, the warmth and strength of a man’s body at the peak of his physical capabilities. His low-level vibration triggers the tiny hairs on my arms to stand and a skitter of anticipation to descend my spine.

All three of us turn as Hayes stands motionless next to our table, his mouth trying to form words that won’t break free.

“Hayes,” Imani says out of kindness. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, clipped. “Good. Riley, can I talk to you?”

“I’m having coffee with my friends,” I say.

He looks between us again, his intense eyes shadowed beneath his ball cap and his long, long lashes.

“It won’t take long.”

“It’s fine,” Katerina pipes up. “We’ll wait for you.”

I turn to her with a wide-eyed, pointed stare, hoping she’ll catch on that I was using her as an excuse. But no—she’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary, fully aware and absolutely choosing to throw me under the bus anyway. I stand, like a kid called out of class by the principal. The chair scrapes along the floor, and Hayes steps back to give me room. I grab my coat from the back of my chair because it’s colder than last night, and there’s no way I’m accepting another sweater from this guy, no matter how appealing the idea of being surrounded by his scent and warmth might be to my crazy man-starved brain.

He leads the way out of the coffee shop as I shove my arms into the sleeves and gather the warm woolen fabric around me.

It’s quiet outside the coffee shop, too, but even so, Hayes glances in both directions. Is he worried about us being seen together? He wasn’t worried at the party. He claimed me as his without a second thought. So, what’s changed?

“Riley.” He says my name in a slow, rumbling way that’s laced with unfamiliarity. In the years we’ve been separated, his tongue has forgotten the shape of it. And with new depth to his voice, it’s harder to link the old Hayes with the new.

“Hayes.” I raise my eyebrows expectantly. This is his show. I’m not leading him down a path of reconciliation or whatever he hopes to get out of this interaction.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Us?”

“Tell you what? That I’m some girl you used to know before you grew hair on your chin.”

“Tell us before we all crossed lines.”

I smirk and fold my arms across my chest. “Crossed lines. That’s an interesting way of summing up Jacob hitting on me and then getting nasty because I said no, Shawn hitting on me, and then you kind of hitting on me by stealth.”

His cheeks turn a very pretty shade which matches my coat, and around half a dozen sweaters and tops in my closet at home. “I didn’t hit on you,” he says.

“No? You claimed me like a caveman in front of your caveman buddies.”

“You kissed me, and you knew.”

He runs his free hand over his mouth and jaw, trying to wipe away the reality of that sweet gesture of gratitude. The sweet gesture that I’ve been tormenting myself over ever since.

“It was a friendly gesture.”

“It felt like more.”

I shake my head and turn away from him to watch a couple crossing the quad. They’re wearing matching black coats and are so wrapped up in each other that it’s hard to work out where one starts and another ends. For a blink, I wonder if that kind of connection will ever happen to me. Will a decent man who’s not just looking to warm his dick for an hour ever want me? Can I find someone who sees me, the whole of me, and not just the curvy bits they want to consume, or am I destined to keep myself apart? My chest hollows like sadness has chased away some of my substance. It’s the same kind of sadness I felt after my mom died, and I carried around with me for most of the time I lived with the Draytons.

“It wasn’t,” I say softly.

“Shit.” He turns back to the coffee shop, exhaling through his nostrils.

“It’s no biggie, Hayes. You and your brothers are just people I crossed paths with a long time ago. No need to beat yourself up about it. We just keep clear of each other from now on.”

He studies me, his chin slightly extended, and eyes narrowed. Under his scrutiny, I feel strangely naked.

“Why? Why would you want to steer clear of me… and my brothers?” He adds the last bit like he forgot I’m talking about the three of them, not just him.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I remember their unkindness and would rather not encounter it again, but revealing the thorn in my side is too personal. We’re just strangers now.

“We were never friends, Hayes. Not then, and now… now, I’m not down with the constant hunt for places to stash your hockey sticks.” I glance down at his groin area and regret it immediately. Why did no one give me the memo about gray sweatpants and their clinginess to the pant python? Hayes’ huge dick is so visible, it’s practically punching its way out. My cheeks turn into hot tomato soup, and when my startled eyes drag themselves away from a part of Hayes Drayton I should never have found myself so familiar with, Hayes is staring at me.

“Hey, Hayes,” a booming voice bellows from behind him. A rumble of linebackers makes its way from the building across the way, with Forester spearheading the approach. He’s even bulkier in the cold light of day.

“Forester.” Hayes immediately puts himself between me and the approaching man, shielding me from what was an interested and slightly amused expression. God, I want to wipe the stupid jock’s smugness off his face with one sharp full-frontal punch to the dick.

“Just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night… I didn’t know Roxy’s your girl.”

“Riley,” I hiss before I clamp down my mouth.

Hayes quickly tips his head in my direction and then finds my hand, enveloping it in his own. His skin is dry and warm, and his grip is so strong, it makes me conscious of all the places my body craves to be grabbed and held tight.

“Riley. Yeah. Anyway, I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have broken the bro code.”

Oh my God. Is this guy serious? The urge to puke all over his shoes is real.

“Just…” Hayes pauses, taking time to think through his response. “Girls don’t like that approach, Forester. It’s too fucking forceful.”

Behind Forester, his teammates snicker, and the dark-haired linebacker’s jaw tics with annoyance. “What the fuck would you know about it? This is the first girl I’ve seen you with. And maybe tell people when you start dating someone. Why all the fucking secrecy, dude? You embarrassed of her or something?”

Fury is a volcano of lava on the cusp of exploding from my mouth, but Hayes squeezes my hand to let me know he’s got this.

“This girl…” He shakes his head. “The only place you’ll ever get to know this girl is in your dreams. And, if I keep her to myself, that’s because I’m possessive as fuck about her attention, and I don’t want other people speculating about our relationship or trying to break it apart. You get one pass, Forester, because you didn’t know. But keep my girl’s name out of your mouth.”

The ‘or’ remains unsaid, but it’s there, hanging between them. Manly aggression has never done much for me, but watching Hayes expand his chest as he draws himself to his full height, body tight with coiled violence that he’s on the cusp of unleashing, I’m wetter than a Texas sprinkler system in high summer. Forester’s eyes flick to me, then back to Hayes. I guess he decides that it’s not worth angering the bear any further because he shrugs.

“Good luck,” is his parting comment, like Hayes will need it being with me.

When Forester and his cronies leave, crossing the quad like a pack of bears, the man so set on defending my honor and my person turns to me.

He doesn’t release my hand.

“You’ve really dug in deep now with the whole relationship thing,” I say.

“Yeah.” He looks at our linked hands, tightening around mine with his long, thick fingers.

“What you said…” I want to say it touched me, but that just sounds full of ‘feels’ I shouldn’t have.

“I meant it. That guy doesn’t know how to treat a woman. He’s like a friggin’ barbarian.”

“I’ve seen you on the ice,” I say. “I’ve seen what you do out there.”

Hayes’ smile is sheepish, and I get a flash of the boy he once was. Time and hormones have worked wonders on him in a way only the divine could be responsible for.

“That’s a legitimate tactic of the game.”

“Oh yeah?”

His grin is sweet, revealing a chip on his front tooth and dimples that turn his usual seriousness into innocent charm. It’s so completely at odds with the man I believed him to be. The bruise on his neck and his threats of violence are far from innocent.

“Can you believe it’s been eight years?”

I shake my head. Eight years have passed so fast, but the time has swollen between us as wide as an ocean.

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s good. Busy. And your mom?”

“She married some asshole. Haven’t contacted her for nearly two years.” His shrug covers a whole barrel of feelings about the situation that he must have buried. His only living parent has chosen a man over her sons.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

He squeezes my fingers and then drops my hand, leaving me unmoored, adrift. Sad from his confession and confused by the contrast between my imagined Hayes and the man he seems to be.

“It’s probably best to tell Forester that we broke up.”

“No way,” Hayes says. “I’m not leaving you out there unclaimed so that his army of assholes can swarm. You know that’s his intention, right?”

“I’m not a beehive, Hayes,” I scoff, the image of a battalion of sexy football players fighting over me too ridiculous to entertain.

“Friday,” Hayes says. “After the game. I’m taking you out. We have a lot to catch up on, and Forester and his buddies need it hammered into their thick Neanderthal skulls that you’re under my protection.”

The assertion that I need to be under anyone’s protection irritates me, but the way Hayes sips at his lukewarm coffee with a smile tugging his lips over the prospect melts my ire.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We have a history, Riley. Seems stupid not to connect in the present.”

“Friends?” I say, not believing my own mouth and its schmaltzy sentiment. What happened to all the hurt I’ve been wrapping with indignation for years, the hurt I’ve exorcised through my channel. Hayes, with his quiet confidence and protectiveness, has nudged it aside. His brothers are still on my own personal shitlist, though.

“Friday,” he says again, not agreeing or disagreeing with my categorization. “I’ll meet you outside O’Connors.”

“What about Jacob and Shawn?” I don’t mean it to sound like I want them to come, but I guess it must come out that way because Hayes stiffens. Is there a fracture between them now? They were always tight, and I thought they were still that way. “I just mean, are you going to tell them?”

“No,” Hayes says softly. “I don’t think I am.”