Sweet Cheeks(19)

It has to be the alcohol. That has to be the explanation for my visceral and very carnal reaction to this man I shouldn’t want to like. Ten years should have curbed this desire.

And yet it didn’t.

His smile is quick and disarming. “Seems like pissing you off is something I know how to do all too well.”

I snort. Can’t think of anything else to do because between the brush of his body against mine and the alcohol swimming in my head, words fail me. All I want to do is hate him—validate the hurt I’ve harbored over the years—while at the same time sag back against him and just remember the feelings I once felt. Feelings he doesn’t deserve.

Stupid alcohol. Stupid feelings.

My defiance remains, but it’s much harder to stand by it when those chocolate-colored eyes are staring at me up close, and I know from memory that those little flecks in them are almost gold in color.

But I will resist you. Because you missed out, Hayes. You didn’t want me.

Or how his lips, now slightly parted and only inches from mine, could kiss me senseless. And that was when he was a teenager. He’s had years of practice now. I’m sure he’s gotten even better at it with age.

I don’t like you. You or your swoony eyes and perfect kisses.

Or what his body looks like. I’m tired. My feet hurt. I bet if I leaned against him his body would feel as muscular as it looks. Because I’ve never watched his movies. Ever. Never seen the sex scenes he acts in or the one where he walks bare-assed to the shower. Never rewound them to watch them again. Nope. Well, at least that’s what I’d tell him.

I giggle as his eyes narrow at me. A slight smirk on those lips again when I don’t want to think about them anymore.

He glances over to my brother and nods at something. I roll my eyes. Here we go again. They see each other for the first time in forever and without missing a beat, fall right back into their silent way of talking without words. Frustrating me because I know whatever they said is about me.

Just like they used to when we were kids.

But this time it can’t be about me because I made Ryder swear to never talk to Hayes about me again. Not even mention my name. Because he’s the reason I met Hayes. And Hayes is the one who hurt me. And so whatever Ryder just agreed to definitely has nothing to do with me.

“It’s closing time, Ships.”

“But they can’t close because I’m not even drunk yet.”

His laugh is loud and distinct, and I hate that it makes me smile.

“You’re plenty drunk. C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

“No.” I’m not going anywhere with you.

And then his arm is around my shoulders. His biceps firm. His cologne sexy. Everything about him so much more potent than my drinks tonight.

I’m sure I just said no. Or did I just think it and not say it?

“Yes.”

“I have a temper. Remember?”

That laugh again. “God, yes, I remember. It never scared me away before. I assure you it’s not going to scare me now.”





“Are you serious?” Saylor looks me over with those eyes of hers, wide with surprise, as the giggle falls from her mouth. At least this got a smile out of her, considering she’s been pouting like a damn five-year-old the whole time in the car—hating me one minute, liking me the next. A continuous battle between glaring at me in silence and then laughing with me like old times. “What are we doing here?”

“I wanted to see if it was still here.”

“Of course it is,” she says as she walks on the dirt path with unsteady feet. The certainty in her voice makes me smile. She glances back at me, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the brisk night air, and for a moment, I glimpse the girl I used to know. And it’s funny that even though she’s trying to be a hard ass, hold a grudge (which I deserve), the real Saylor still peeks through. “Did you think my parents tore it down just because we grew up?”

Her voice breaks on the last words, and I feel like such a callous asshole. Bringing her here on a whim. Not being considerate.

“I wasn’t sure what happened to it,” I murmur quietly, suddenly uncomfortable with what to say as we reach the bottom of the tree house just at the edge of her parents’ property. I look toward their old house up the hill and to the left of us.

All the lights are off.

“I’m sorry, Saylor. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

She looks to me, her smile bittersweet. “It’s a good place. Good memories. Ryder lives here now so it doesn’t make me sad anymore.” She stares up to the house for a moment. Nods her head as if she’s trying to accept her own words.