Page 107 of The Wingman

She nods, eyebrows sliding together.

“It’s because you turned me on so goddamn much, Darce, that I needed to come, and I can’t come quietly.” My mouth hooks in a lazy grin. “As you now know.”

She swallows, cheeks going pink. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a flare of surprise in her eyes, and I know, inside her head, she’s processing this info.

That’s fine. I’ll give her time to let it sink in.

“You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

She chuckles into my shoulder before glancing at the door, hesitating.

“You’re not going back to your bed,” I tell her.

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think she’s relieved. “Bossy.”

I kiss her forehead, inhaling her, stroking my hand over her back. “You want some water?”

She shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slow, her body relaxing into mine. I listen to her soft breathing as she falls asleep, and my thoughts begin to clear.

I’m done with being her wingman, and I’ll do what it takes to convince Darcy she’s mine.

She’ll need time to process this, and the last thing I want to do is rush her. Telling her she’s it for me, that she’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted and will ever want, will make her panic.

So I’ll give her time. I’ll take the pressure off.

My heart does an uneasy tug. What if I show her how good we could be together, but it’s still not enough?

Just a pretty face and a good fuck.

I tighten my arm around her. In her sleep, she sighs and nestles farther into my chest, and determination floods me.

I’m racing toward a cliff with a cut brake line. My only option is to push the pedal to the floor and hope I clear it.

CHAPTER 50

DARCY

I wakein Hayden’s bed, wrapped up tight in his arms. His sheets are softer than ever, and gentle sunlight filters into the room as his exhales tickle the back of my neck. On his bedside table sits the photo of us from university, the one I gave him for Valentine’s Day. My brows slide together and I blink at it, biting back a smile. Was that there last night?

He must notice the change in my breathing, because the arm he has strewn across my chest tightens, pulling me to him.

“Morning,” he mumbles against me, low voice raspy with sleep.

“Good morning.”

I revel in the comfort of this moment for about four seconds before the questions start pinging around my brain.

Was that the best, dirtiest, most vivid dream of my life, or did I let my best friend and wingman give me the best orgasm of my life?

Did he enjoy it as much as he seemed to?

Is he freaking out?

Am I?

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