Page 6 of Tempted to Touch (Straight No More #1)

TEN MINUTES IS how long he makes me wait, my back plastered against the wall right where he left me. It's like a walk of shame, but motionless. Two people stroll by me one by one, and all I can do is drop my gaze to the ground and pretend they're not there.

When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I jump.

It's like I've forgotten phones exist. Like I've forgotten anything exists, really.

Anything other than a tall, black-haired man who somehow managed to convince both my brain and every piece of my body that a minor detail such as him being just that—a man—is really fucking insignificant.

I try not to let the "U coming?" text from earlier distract me and focus on the last one.

Two words and a number.

An address.

His address?

I'm not sure. Might as well be a slaughterhouse for all I know. And right now? I don't even care.

Finding my way back to my car is challenging, and driving seems outright reckless. Not that it stops me. Whatever buzz I had going on from my one drink earlier is long gone, and if I get pulled over for weaving, what are they gonna charge me with? Being horny?

When I make my last turn in the thankfully residential area and find the right house, I only half-register it's really fucking luxurious. But that doesn't matter either. I wouldn't care if it were a shed.

After I make my way up the driveway that bends and stretches for longer than a driveway should, I practically fly out of my car and all but sprint to the front door.

If he's watching me from a window, he knows I'm desperate.

Normally, I'd try to hide it, but I can't. Because.

..well, I'm really fucking desperate right now.

I skip up three large, stone steps, all brown and beige and grey, and knock on the door three times before I realize there's a doorbell. I press that as well and shake my body out as I wait, trying to think of an opener other than 'Please fuck me'.

I'll comment on the house, that's what I'll do. There's no way a firefighter's salary buys a house like that. Maybe he invests. Maybe he does porn on the side. Maybe he lied. Maybe—

The second the door swings open, I forget what I was thinking about. I'm not sure I've ever had any thoughts, ever.

Hayden opens the door all the way, one hand still on the handle as he puts his other arm on the frame and leans against it.

I take him in piece by piece, trying not to moan in the process.

He's changed. Or rather, he's shed ... There's a pair of dark grey joggers hanging low on his hips, and in place of the black button-up, there's absolutely fucking nothing, and I'm up close and personal with a broad, hairless chest that somehow looks even bigger than in the picture.

Also, his hair is now damp, which means...

I groan, because fuck appearances, and take a sharp step forward, then another, only to bounce off the unyielding wall of muscles in front of me.

"Sooo... Are you gonna let me in?" I ask, thankful for my voice coming out somewhat steady, considering the circumstances.

Hayden sucks in his lower lip and then slowly rolls it out as his eyes roam over my body for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, but doesn't move.

Umm. He's gonna let me in, right? He wouldn't be that cruel, would he?

Finally, he speaks. " Should I let you in?"

"Yep. Yes. You definitely should."

He raises a brow. "And why is that?"

God... He's fucking with me so hard I might actually come from that.

I step from foot to foot and scan my brain for something clever to say but come up empty.

"Because..." I tilt my head to the side and let my eyes swipe over his frame again.

Damn, those pants. Damn his hairless, probably shaved body.

And damn that V-line that's partly hidden, leading right to— Fuck it.

"Because I'm pretty sure I'd be good at giving head.

And if I'm not, then... well, I'd like you to evaluate my effort. "

The movement of his jaw is subtle, but not subtle enough for me to miss as he grinds his teeth and his eyelids fall closed slowly as he inhales. When he opens his eyes a second later, he pushes off the doorframe and steps to the side.

Air escapes my lungs in a sharp puff as I move, brushing my shoulder against his chest, because that's how much room he deemed appropriate to leave me, and I do my best not to think about the fact I have just offered to suck his dick.

I step in just enough to let him close the door comfortably and wait. When he doesn't step around me, I turn, only to find him leaning against the door, his hands tucked behind his lower back, and— fuck —his very obviously hardening dick tenting the gray fabric.

I swallow, and then swallow again, because apparently the man has me literally salivating. "So, um... Where to?" I motion dumbly to my right where a fucking wall is.

His voice is somehow even lower than usual, which I didn't know was possible. "And where would you like to go?"

"Fuck, I don't know. Your bed. Your couch. The kitchen floor. Take me right here if you want to." Yeah, I didn't plan on saying any of that out loud. Clearly I'm not in control anymore. Of anything.

The smirk he sends me is fucking devious. "I don't hate the sound of that." He slowly pushes off the door and strolls around me. As he passes me, he leans down to my ear and adds, "Eager little thing."

I all but stumble over, my hand flying to my right, hoping I can somehow grab a wall again.

What is even happening right now? All of this should feel...off. I'm a man. I'm usually the dominant one. I'm fucking two years older than he is, if his Grindr tag is honest. Yet here I am, regaining my balance and following a man like I'm a dog and he's a bone, a treat and my master combined.

My peripheral vision catches spaces, but my gaze is fixed on his back. I just can't look away from the way his muscles move under his tight skin, muscles I didn't know belonged in humans.

We walk down a long hallway, then something that's probably a living room.

Probably, because my eyes are currently glued to his ass.

Curvy. Perky. Solid. Another living room, apparently.

I wonder if his thighs are as muscular as the rest of him.

They must be. A third living room because why the fuck not at this point, and just as I move to contemplate his calves, I slam face-first into something solid and it fucking hurts.

I gasp and back away from where I just collided with Hayden's back as he's stopped by the foot of the stairs.

He looks at me over his shoulder. "You really do fall for me, don't you?"

I don't answer. I don't trust what might come out of my mouth, and instead, go back to ogling his ass as he leads me up the stairs, then left and through a door.

As he closes it behind us, I close my eyes and spin on my heel to face him, sighing. "Okay. I can't be sure, but I think I just saw a bed and—"

"Mmhmm?" he interjects and my eyes open on their own accord.

"And honestly, I'm not sure what to do with that information." My voice comes out less steady now as Hayden steps closer.

"Mmhmm?"

God, why does he sound so good? Why does he look so good? "And I just..." As he steps even closer, his body now an inch away from mine, my knees bend slightly, my eyelids fall halfway and I forget what I was rambling on about. "You smell good," I whisper. "Different than before."

"Mmmm."

Speak caveman to me all night. I don't mind .

I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and wait. Enjoying, cherishing every hot breath that lands on my face, I wait for scruff against my cheek. I wait to lose my breath. I wait for a kiss.

Large palms take me by surprise as Hayden puts them on my hips and slides them up, under my tight shirt and pulls it up, exposing my skin, slowly and greedily at the same time.

I open my eyes and moan, straight up fucking moan the moment I see his face, more focused than I've ever seen it, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, brows furrowed, eyes following the hem of my shirt as it keeps moving up.

Lifting my arms, I let him peel it off me. Once he's done, he holds my shirt in one hand and brushes the pads of his fingers over my stomach.

"Mmm. I like these abs. I like them a lot." The way his eyes devour me lets me know he's telling the truth.

"T—Thanks. I've built them myself." I don't even care anymore how dumb I sound.

Apparently, I don't care what I'm doing either, because the next thing I know, my hands are on his ass—no preamble, no hesitation, because I'm subtle like that.

I squeeze. Exactly as solid as I thought. Maybe even more. Inhuman.

Hayden lets out a grunt that shoots straight to my balls, and even if I tried, I couldn't stop my hand from sliding around his hip and then straight to his cock like it's as natural as a handshake.

We both make a sound at the same time. Hayden because I'm touching his dick, probably.

Me, because that fucking thing is filling most of my palm, girthier than I've ever thought a cock could be, putting mine to shame even though I've always considered myself big.

How will— Where— Oh fuck, I'm not even gonna think about that right now.

I hold my breath and grab it the best I can over the thick fabric.

None of this feels real. It's like I'm a guest star in someone else's movie, no longer the main character of my own.

I've never held a dick before, other than mine.

It was never in my script. And when Hayden flexes his, making it jump against my palm and lets out a low, whispery chuckle at the same time, one thing becomes clear—I fucking love this role.

I suck in my lips, because I don't trust the types of sounds that threaten to come out of me as I move my hand to his balls and blindly squeeze my other hand under his waistband.

There's nothing else there—no boxers, no briefs, no unnecessary layers for me to get out of the way.

Just his cock, massive and hard. Hard for me . Because of me .