Sweet Cheeks(84)

“Like you have to worry about morning breath,” I scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, Mr. I’m-A-Hollywood-God. The man who could have twenty-four seven halitosis and would still rake in the women. All you’d have to do is stand there shirtless in front of a female and she’d faint. And not from being bowled over by your morning breath.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I start to squirm away from his fingers tickling my ribs.

“No, I’m not. You’ve never had a lack of confidence in your whole life.”

His fingers fall lax on my ribcage and he rests his forehead against the back of my head. “Yes, I have.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

Once again his words not only surprise me, but prove to me how much he’s matured and is trying to let me in. “Why?”

He laughs more to himself than to me and then falls silent. I give him time to answer. “I thought you left the reception because it was all too much for you. I thought you regretted calling it off. That you still loved Mitch.” The fear he felt is transparent in his voice.

“Oh, Hayes. You’re crazy.”

“Maybe, but between that and you saying Mitch’s name in your sleep the other night, that’s what I thought.”

“Mitch’s name? What are you talking about?”

“You mumbled Mitch’s name after the first time we had sex.”

I wrack my brain to try and think of having had a dream about Mitch but can’t remember for the life of me having any in recent memory. “I promise you, the only dreams I’ve had of Mitch are ones where I’m chewing him out.” I shake my head and then really hear what he confessed to me. This time when I speak, my voice is full of wonderment. “How could you think I still loved him after everything that happened between us this weekend?”

“Because I know what it’s like to see an old love and feel like you’ve just been sucker-punched. How it makes you regret all of the things you did to them and at the same time reaffirms everything you feel for them instantly. That was how I felt when I walked into Sweet Cheeks that first day.” He pauses and a soft smile spreads on my lips because I felt the exact same. “Last night, I was freaked out and I couldn’t find you. And then I saw you and you said what you said and it was like . . . like lightning striking.”

“Oh, so apropos.” I giggle, loving this side of Hayes Whitley who can express his thoughts so much better than the teenager could.

“Shush.” The bed shifts and I’m lambasted with a soft down pillow to the head.

I struggle away. Giggling and laughing and finding purchase on a pillow of my own that I begin to swing with reckless abandon. We’re both on our knees, face to face, duking it out with the pillows. For every thud of down to flesh, there’s an equally loud sound of laughter and cursing and playful threats.

“Don’t get too close,” I squeal as he grabs my pillow and makes a sound of victory before gently tackling me to the mattress. His hands are on my wrists holding them to my sides and a smile is wide on his lips. “I thought I was supposed to steer clear of you, Mr. Morning Breath.”

His eyes light up to match the smile on his lips. “You were.” He shrugs. “But then you made fun of me.”

“What are you going to do about it?” A lift of my eyebrows. A taunt of a smirk.

His gaze travels down my body, scrapes over every inch of my flesh. We were having so much fun I didn’t think about the fact that we are both still naked from last night. Exactly how we collapsed into bed. When he looks back up, I can see the desire starting to darken in his eyes.

“I can think of a lot of things I can do.”

I’m more than ready to play this game with him. “No way. I’m gross and need to take a shower first.” I attempt to squirm away from him.

His laugh is loud and amused. “It’s only like day four and you’re already telling me no to sex? That gives me zero hope for what our sex life will be like in ten years.”

I hear his comment, his reference to our future, and while it makes my heart skip a beat, I don’t argue with him. Desire is clouding my thoughts and spurring on my words. I flash a coy smile, bat my lashes and let my legs fall open so he can see the pink of my skin there. “Mmm . . . there are a few positions I can think of where your nasty breath isn’t in my face.”

“Really? Will the position help your crazy-ass hair because it just might distract my flow.”

“Your flow, Mister You’re. A. God?” I laugh out, repeating his words from last night. Loving his playful side.