Page 53 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
“Fuck, dove . . . Fuuuck,” he says breathlessly, his low voice crackling like hot coals.
The desperate sound of him, the hot, hard feel of him in my hands, is enough to drive me crazy. But I know I’ll get my reward later, so I focus my efforts on making Hayes lose his mind. And he does . . . quickly.
“I’m gonna come.” His fingers loosen their grasp, giving me an out if I need it.
I don’t back away and swallow him even deeper. When he finally catches his breath, I’m gazing up at him.
“Holy hell,” he says with a chuckle. Helping me to my feet, Hayes wraps me in his arms, warmth radiating from him like a bonfire. He mumbles against my neck, “I messed up your hair.”
“That’s okay.” I smile, nestling against him. I have so much affection for this man, I could burst.
“I needed that.” He sighs, leaning back to meet my gaze. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I say with a smile, pressing a light kiss to his smiling lips.
“Can I return the favor tonight?”
I nod once, my heart rate picking up at the idea of Hayes on his knees before me, treating me to white-hot pleasure. “Of course.”
His smile widens, and his eyes dance mischievously on mine.
Once we’ve collected ourselves and I’ve repaired my hair, we sneak out of the bathroom and back out through the busy ice cream shop. The cashier is too busy mopping up that little kid’s mess to be concerned with us.
We make our way outside, and it’s nearly dark out when the couple of the year returns, only separating their clasped hands to wave once they spot us at the edge of the beach. Hayes and I wave back, and Rosie cocks her head in response to his lazy smile.
“You really have a way with my grandson,” she says as they approach. “He’s so relaxed after a little alone time with you.”
She reaches out to pat Hayes on the shoulder, who barely manages to keep his game face together. Meanwhile, I’m as red as a stop sign. She doesn’t know the half of it.
The drive back to Riverside is oddly pleasant. Hayes invites Don to sit in the front seat with him, and I gladly join Rosie in the back. The men share an awkward but sweet conversation about the best things to do in Chicago, while Rosie and I share an awkward but sweet look of appreciation. He’s trying.
When we arrive, Rosie insists on walking Don back inside. I crawl up to the front seat, a tangle of knees and elbows that sends Hayes diving for cover.
“Why didn’t you just get out and get back in?” He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his shoulder from my shoe.
I laugh, shrugging. “Do you care?”
“No,” he says, a sexy little smile spreading across his face.
He reaches out, his fingers tracing my jawline before he presses his thumb softly against my chin. It’s a simple, chaste gesture, but it sends a warm wave of pleasure through me.
When Hayes looks out the window again, his smile drops like a bag of bricks. I follow his gaze to see Don and Rosie sharing a good-night kiss, and my heart explodes.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, bouncing in my seat. “That’s sooo cute.”
“It’s not cute, Mare. It’s weird. And ballsy, but not in a good way. I don’t know this guy. For all I know, he’s just trying to steal Rosie’s social security checks.”
I angle an eyebrow at him. “Does Rosie have a sizable pension or something?”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration before mumbling, “No.”
“Hmm.” I lean over, patting him softly on the thigh. “You may not know Don, but I do. So you don’t have to trust him. You can just trust me. Okay?”
Hayes struggles with this for a moment. Truthfully, my patience is wearing thin.
“Tell me what’s really worrying you.”
He sighs softly. “I’m worried about what every man is worried about when his grandmother falls in love with a ninety-year-old man.”
My eyes narrow on his. “Him dying?”
Hayes scoffs. “Him breaking her heart.”
“Relax, babe,” I mutter, wishing we could just skip ahead to the part where everyone’s chummy.
“Babe?” he asks, turning to me with an amused look that overpowers the discomfort that was threatening to set up base for good.
Oops . . . I guess that’s one way to make him feel better.
“Is that okay?” I ask cautiously. Maybe I took it too far.
“No, it’s great.” He gives me a big grin. “Just unexpected.”
“Says the guy who regularly calls me dove,” I shoot back with a sly smile, walking my fingers up his chest.
With a mischievous grin, he catches my hand, bringing my fingertips to his mouth to bite them softly between his teeth. I gasp, snatching them back and clutching that chiseled jaw I’ve spent decades daydreaming about. His eyes glitter in the moonlight, growing darker as he leans in. When he speaks, his voice is wrapped in velvet.
