Page 67 of Cocky Prince
“Well, now that you mention it, I’d love for you to finish that closet. And when you’re done with that—”
Adam tickles my neck with fluttery kisses while his fingers dig into my sides. “You are a bad girl. You know what I want on that list.”
I laugh and shove his hands aside unsuccessfully. “But it’s my honey-do list!”
He stops tickling me, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Then I better make my own.” He quirks his eyebrows.
“You are so single-minded.”
He tugs me up with him and reaches for the discarded boxer briefs. “Let that be a lesson to you. Food first, becausemycavewoman needs it. Then we’ll get back to the honey-do list I’m mentally tacking items to. Of course, it all involves being naked, or partially clothed, if we’re getting imaginative.”
I shake my head as if exasperated. But secretly, I love it. Love this moment and what we shared, and being here with him—all of it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adam
Isitacross from Hayden at her small kitchen table, a jar filled with wildflowers between us, and watch her munch away on a burrito. I should be thinking about the explosive sex we just had… Who am I kidding? I am thinking about that. But I’m also thinking about how much I like this girl. Everything—the way she tastes, the feel of her pressed to my skin, her ridiculous obsession with shoes I seem to find charming. For the first time,likedoesn’t fit.
Everything about Hayden is charming or intelligent or kind, and she has so much integrity. I see her—all of her—and I can’t look away. I wasn’t kidding when I said I enjoyed the sound of Hayden being mine. I think of her as mine, which I’ve never done with anyone. I’veneverwanted more than pleasure and company. But right now, all I can think about is how great it would be to wake up to Hayden every day. To make love to her at night and fall asleep with her in my arms…
Sex with her has knocked a screw loose.
This isn’t me. In a few hours, I’ll be back to normal. Won’t feel this pressing urge to bundle her up and never let her go.
Popping the last bite of chicken burrito in my mouth, I watch as she wraps half of hers and carries it to the fridge. She sets it inside and leans over, her forehead puckered in concentration. Her cute ass is in the air, giving me all sorts of ideas of walking up behind her and having my way with her. Before I can enact my fantasy, she closes the fridge and walks to a cupboard, reaching for something up high. I’m about to walk over and help, but that would interrupt the fascinating food scavenging she’s doing and the view she’s giving me. Her tank top has ridden up, exposing her panties and the most beautiful feminine form I’ve ever seen.
Can’t interrupt. The view is too good. Sheisbeautiful. Physically, but even more so inside.
Hayden has morals. She’s being a pain in my ass at work, but it’s because she fights for what she thinks is right. I could learn something from her.
I ball up the wrapper from my burrito and toss it in the trashcan at the end of the counter. Hayden walks over, gazing lustfully at a piece of dark chocolate she must have procured from the cupboard.
“Why did you leave?” I ask as she sits down. I’m fascinated by everything about Hayden, and I want to know the parts I missed.
Things were shitty for her when the rumor broke out during high school, but Hayden is strong. Most people would have freaked out over what happened, except Hayden isn’t like most people. She’s ballsy and hardheaded.
She chews the chocolate, her gaze on the table. She gives a light shrug as though coming to some sort of decision. “They stoned me.”
For a moment, an image flashes in my mind of women being stoned in countries where they’re not allowed to show their skin, or be seen walking with a man who isn’t a relative. But that can’t be what she meant. “Excuse me?”
Hayden scoops crumbs from the table with the side of her hand and brushes them into the trashcan. I still can’t believe how tidy her home is compared to her office. Not that I give two shits, but it does give me pause. “My parents couldn’t spare the car one day, so I walked home from school. Kids in class had been whispering about me. Someone had knocked me into a wall on my way from last period. All typical behavior since the rumor came out.”
She glances up, looking slightly nervous, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s talking about something uncomfortable, or if it’s because my face probably looks like I want to murder someone. “I was a couple of blocks from the school parking lot. I’d just turned down a side street filled with apartments. There were hardly any cars around. I remember feeling leery, but I had to get home somehow, and it seemed stupid to turn back.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “A car pulled up and someone threw a soda can at my head.”
What the fuck?
“I heard them laughing and I started running,” she continues. “A paper bag with food came at me next. I kept running. Then I heard car doors closing and footsteps pounding behind me.”
Her breathing is shaky, as though she’s reliving the moment. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand so tightly I have to force myself to ease up.
“A rain of rocks came hurtling at my back,” she says. “One of them was so large it bruised my shoulder blade and I stumbled, but I didn’t stop. If anything, I became frantic, and that stupid street was so damn long. I was gasping and crying and calling out. And then a fist-sized stone slammed into the back of my skull.” The hand I’m not holding absently touches the back of her head. “I woke up on the ground. They were gone, and I was bleeding.”
I lean forward. “Are you fucking kidding me?”Furiousdoesn’t begin to describe what I feel right now, as the woman I…care about…tells me how some dicks could have killed her.
She tries for a light smile. “If it makes any difference, I don’t think they planned to throw rocks at me. I was running from them—it was one of those heat-of-the-moment things. I called my parents and they found me. They took me to the hospital. I needed a couple of stitches, but otherwise I was fine. But that was it. My parents decided to move, and I supported it because I didn’t want to worry them anymore.”
Her expression shows a mixture of guilt and nervousness, which I don’t understand. “Why does that bother you? You had no choice. It was dangerous for you to stay.”
