Page 53 of The Best Kind of Forever
“Oh, yeah. I’m like one of those Tootsie Pops you have to lick to get to the center of.”
“So you’re saying that I’ll eventually get to your ooey-gooey center if I keep licking enough?”
“In the right places,” he drawls, cupping my face in his hands and planting a soft, slow kiss to my lips. He licks the silk of my mouth, tasting the acrid citrus on my tongue from the champagne, and my arms come up to braid around his neck.
When we pull away, my eyes fly open in surprise. “What was that for?”
“I can’t give my beautiful girlfriend a kiss?” he teases as he thumbs the fabric of my dress. “Also, this dress is my new favorite. I’m going to need you to wear this from here on out. For every occasion.”
“Every occasion, huh?”
“Every occasion,” he repeats, making hot coals burn in the bed of my sternum. “Though I’m pretty sure you could turn me on even dressed in a potato sack.”
I swear Hayes must’ve been blessed with endless charisma because every time he compliments me, my ovaries all simultaneously explode. I need them intact and uninfluenced, okay? We don’t need a miniature Hayes running around and wreaking havoc.
After making a few rounds, I need a break from the small talk and civil handshakes. It feels like my mouth’s permanently stuck from all the smiling I’ve done. I definitely won’t remember any of these people in the morning.
“I have no idea how you do this all day,” I grumble, exhaustion beginning to steamroll through me as I rub my temples.
“It’s definitely not the most exciting part of the job,” he laughs, the cadence like unfiltered magic in my ears. “We mostly come for the food.”
“I could go for some food,” I say.
I need to busy my mouth, preferably with eating rather than talking. Even after having some time to adjust, my heart hasn’t stopped racing from the nerves. I don’t think my body’s fully differentiated between an actual threat and an anxiety-inducing party—which I’ve experienced plenty of thanks to my impressionable college years.
“Good, because I’m starving.” Hayes hooks his arm through mine and leads me over to the buffet table.
What I thought was going to be a quick stop actually turns into a thirty-minute stop. Hayes makes himself a plate of food ranging from crab cakes to pull-apart meatball sliders to miniature spinach quiches. He’s like a walking garbage disposal.
“Thank you for coming, Aeris. It really means a lot,” he mumbles through the flaky exterior of a quiche.
“Of course. I’ve been having a great time.”
He calls my bluff. “Oh, really? You didn’t strike me as a fan of black-tie events.”
An indignant noise huffs out of me as I pick up a brownie bite. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I love listening to old guys boast about their cryptocurrency and all the MILFs they’ve been fucking.”
Hayes swallows a slider in one bite, brushing some crumbs from his mouth. “Jesus, that’s something I definitely didn’t need to know.”
“Yeah, imagine hearing the gritty details.”
“I thought you liked dirty talk.”
“Yeah, if the talk isn’t coming from someone who’s a Life Alert away from going to the afterlife.”
“Are you saying you won’t be attracted to me when I’m older?”
I cut him a curious glance. “You might age like spoiled milk. I have no idea.”
He mock-gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls. “Hey, my hair isn’t going to recede until I’m at least eighty.”
“Eighty is being generous. And who knows, maybe you’ll even get a beer gut.” I thrust my finger into his hard abdomen for emphasis, then frown. “Okay, probably not. You’ll have the hottest eight-pack in the nursing home. Ugh, screw you and your fast metabolism.”
He scarfs down the rest of his food, then throws his plate in the garbage. “I don’t know what to tell you, Stacks. I’m a well-oiled machine.”
“If you flex, I’ll walk out of here. Right now.”
He winks. “Ah, you’re right. I wouldn’t want the gun show to blow you away.”
