Page 53 of Cocky Prince
He doesn’t.
I switch out of my pajama pants and into pajama shorts that keep me cool at night, and brush my teeth. The second bedroom is an office and storage room—no bed in there—so I return to my bedroom and carefully ease under the blankets at the top of the bed. I could sleep on the couch, but the truth is, I’d rather be with Adam.
I ruffle around in the nightstand for the latest smut novel I borrowed from Mira (who gets her stash from Gen), and try to keep my eyes open.
After reading the same page three times, I give up the fight and turn off the light.
I’m cramped at the top of the bed and Adam is cramped at the bottom. One of us will shift positions and wake, and Adam will go home. No big deal. For now, I’m closing my eyes.
* * *
Adam
Remnants of my dream fade—one where I’m cruising through the mountains in the XKR with Hayden beside me, only she’s wearing tiny shorts and I can’t stop staring at her legs. Which would happen if this were reality. Hayden has gorgeous legs.
I rub my eyes and look around, and my back tenses.
This isn’t my room. I’m not in my bed.
And then I recognize the beautiful legs from my dream inches from my face. Or really, one leg. The other is under the covers. But the leg outside the blanket is outfitted in tiny sleep shorts. The bare hint of round ass showing immediately has blood pooling to the lower half of my body.
What the hell happened last night?
I sit up on my elbow and take in the rest of the beautiful girl at the top of the bed. And then I remember. I was about to leave, but my head was pounding like a son of a bitch. Hayden gave me a head massage, and I must have conked. Considering the low golden glow streaming in through the window, it seems I slept through the night.
Jesus. I don’t remember ever passing out like this, not even during my college days when I made it my business to power down cheap beer. And I’m certain it had everything to do with Hayden touching me.
When was the last time a woman touched me that way? Not for foreplay, just a gentle caress for the sake of caring for someone. Shit, has anyone besides my mother ever given me that kind of attention?
I rub my forehead, certain the answer is no. And not because I haven’t dated nice women. I neverwantedto be touched in a caring way. Until last night. With Hayden. She put her pretty little hands on me, and heaven spread through my body. Everything after that is a blur.
I woke with this horrible moment of panic too. For a second I thought I was in another woman’s bed. I worried I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Because the only bed I want to find myself in is Hayden’s.
This isn’t an attraction to a woman I work with. It’s never been that simple.
A light squeak sounds and Hayden stretches her arms above her head, her tank top straining against the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen. No bra this time.
I groan. She is killing me.
Hayden glances over and sits up, confusion filling her face as she looks around in surprise. “It’s morning?”
“It would seem that way.” I sit up, my movements slow, and run my fingers through my hair, which I sense is standing on end. “Sorry about last night. That was…unprecedented. I don’t usually fall asleep in women’s beds. I’m typically too busy.” I give her a lopsided grin.
She rolls her eyes and smiles shyly, and damn if she isn’t stunning. I’ve always dated attractive women, but none of them looked like sunshine and dreams when they first woke. Oh, Hayden’s hair is a hot mess, and she’s got sleep marks along one cheek, but make no mistake. She. Is. Fucking. Beautiful. Her beauty beams from the inside.
We’re a foot apart, and a war rages inside me. This is the same girl who fascinated me for reasons my puberty-stricken brain couldn’t interpret. This is also the woman my hands want to touch and hold. But Hayden doesn’t trust me, and I sense it’s not all due to the past.
“I should probably go,” I mumble. If I stay, I will kiss her, and I’m not sure she wants that. Being with Hayden isn’t something I wish to fuck up.
“Are you thirsty?” She swings her long legs over the bed, and of course, I’m staring. Becauseher legs. “Apple juice okay?”
I nod in a trance and follow her. She’s in a tiny tank top and shorts, and I can’t seem to think straight.
Hayden enters the kitchen and opens the fridge. She pulls out juice and reaches up for glasses in one of the cupboards. I watch the graceful, unself-conscious movements that make her so utterly fascinating. And sexy. She’s in pajamas with morning hair, and everything she does—the sound of her voice, the way she moves—calls to me.
She pours two glasses and hands me one. I drink half of mine in a single swallow, the ripe, fruity flavor heightening my senses, as though they weren’t already on overdrive.
Hayden takes her glass and walks to the end of the kitchen where I’m standing. She hops onto a lip of the counter that’s lower than the rest and supported by shelving. Her legs swing back and forth, her ankles hooked together. She smiles over her juice glass. A secret, private smile. And that’s it.
