by Maren Moore
"I think you need someone to take care of you."
He dips his head down, dragging his nose along the underside of my jaw, and my legs turn to jelly. I clutch the counter harder, begging my stupid body to keep me upright and not melt into a willing puddle at his feet.
This is stupid. I hated Hayes. I always have.
Then why do just a few, raspy innuendoes make me so desperate for his touch? His proximity forces me to be honest with myself.
Do I want Hayes?
Of course I do. I’m just not fool enough to admit it out loud. Hello, Sexiest Man Alive. Even my poor, hormonal body can’t deny my attraction to him, regardless of whether I want to run him over or not.
"You're crazy," I whisper, my eyes searching his honey-flecked green pools of lava.
"Maybe, but I think that you want me just as much as I want you," he says, inching closer and closer until I feel his lips brush against mine.
I should stop this. I should push away both Hayes and the hazy cloud of lust that forms around my brain the second he looks at me with those eyes. But my body is a desperate wench, and I don’t have the strength or willpower to deny myself any longer.
"No. We can't. This complicates things, and we can't afford any more complications, Hayes," I tell him, more firmly this time.
"Complications are good."
I feel him place a gentle, soft kiss against the sensitive side of my neck, before his teeth nip the skin, then sooth it with his tongue.
"Have I rendered you speechless? Wow, it was that easy?" he teases. Pulling back, his eyes search mine, and I see the same desire that I feel. My hands find his chest, finally letting go of the safety of the counter.
I know deep down that the moment my hands leave the counter, I’m in his territory, and all bets are off. The second my fingers touch his chest, feeling the hard, delicious muscles that strain under the simple black tee he's wearing, I decide to worry about the consequences later.
"Shut up, Davis," I command. My hands fist in the front of his shirt, yanking him all the way towards me. I'm momentarily shocked by my brazen move, but the past four days have been torture. I’m wound tight and desperate for him to ease that tightness.
I can feel him smile against my lips until my tongue darts out and licks the seam of his, Then the smile is gone, replaced with frenzy. Together, we’re a mess of bumped teeth and hands that can’t stop. This time, I’ll remember every single second of being touched by Hayes Davis. I will savor it and relive it because this is never ever happening again.
Keep lying to yourself, St. James.
Panting, I murmur, "Wait, wait, wait," when his hands snake underneath the thin cotton of my t-shirt, moving against the soft flesh of my stomach.
"Okay."
He pulls back, his breath as erratic as mine as his eyes bore into mine.
"One time. That's it. Then we pretend it never happened. When it's over, we go back to coexisting. You on your side of the hall, me on mine."
His brow crinkles, and he opens his mouth as if he is going to say something but closes it again, clenching his jaw.
"Non-negotiable, Hayes. I'm pregnant with your child—I’m horny and hormonal, and all of this is your fault!"
He has the audacity to laugh but quickly corrects himself with a somber look.
"I'm sorry, Soph, I can't help that you find me so attractive."
I launch myself at him, all my focus on trying to reach his stupid, smug face so I can punch it, but he lifts me clear off my feet, and my legs lock around his tapered waist with the dips that make my mouth water. With our bodies pressed tightly together, I can feel his hardness digging into my most sensitive spot.
"This is crazy," I pant as he kisses a path down my neck to my chest, sucking small spots of skin into his mouth along the way and rolling them with his tongue.
"Stop thinking."
Pulling his lips from my skin, he lays me back on the cold granite, sliding his hand up and up until he reaches the lace of my bra. His fingers trail lightly over the cup until he reaches the swell of skin. The contact sends my back bowing from the counter, pushing myself closer to his touch.
"Hayes..." I moan breathlessly.
"So responsive," he murmurs. He dips his hand inside the cup of my bra to my now much larger breasts and grabs a handful, squeezing gently.
"Fuck, you're perfect, Sophia."
I bite my lip to stop the moan, but barely succeed. My body is lit up like a firework. Every brush of his hand sends shivers through me, and every time he grinds against the apex of my thighs, his hardness brushing over my clit through my thin sleep shorts, I feel like I might actually come.
Holy shit. What is he doing to me?
The second the rough pad of his thumb ghosts over my nipple, I squeeze my thighs together instinctively. I feel the delicious snake of my orgasm wind its way up my body, warming everything down to my toes.
"Sophia?" Hayes asks, pinching my nipple lightly and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. This time, the moan does escape. "Are you going to come, just from me playing with your nipples?"
His voice is scratchy, hoarse, and full of need, and it makes me even hotter.
"I can't help it. It's the hormones...the baby..." I breathe, trying not to think about anything but Hayes's magical fingers. Fingers that better not stop what they're doing, or I'm going to make sure he can never use said fingers ever again.
"You are the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen." He groans, then brings his hot mouth to my nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
I'm so close. I can't hold on as the orgasm takes hold of my body, and I grind myself against his hardness, my clit tingling with anticipation.
"Hayes," I moan.
Suddenly, my cotton shorts are shoved aside and Hayes finds me wet and dripping. He rubs his thumb against my clit, and I rock into his touch. When he slides a finger inside of me, I feel myself stretch around him.
"Goddamn, Sophia. You're so tight," he pants. He's as close to losing control as I am, and if we don't stop, I'm going to push him onto the floor of this kitchen and ride him until we're both spent.
Jeez, Sophia. Who are you right now?
A woman who is currently being fingerbanged by her fake fiancé/baby daddy on the floor of his ridiculously large and pristine kitchen, that’s who.
I'm distracted only momentarily until Hayes sucks my nipple back into his mouth, dragging his teeth against the sensitive peak and adding another finger inside of me.
Wow, he truly is a man of so many talents. Sucks that this is only a one-time thing, but this should be enough to tide me over until I buy a ridiculously awesome vibrator, and then I'll be fine.
"I want to be inside you," he groans.
I don't answer but begin yanking the black shirt over his head, until it gets stuck and he has to help me pull it the rest of the way. Once it's off, I can fully appreciate his body. His physique is immaculate. He obviously spends time in the gym working on himself, and I admire that. Pair that with his grueling hockey practices and strength conditioning, and the man was lethal—on and off the ice. Right now, he threatened to kill me with his magical fingers.
I place my hands on his stomach, dragging my nails down until I reach the line of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts and black boxer briefs.
God he’s sinful, and this is the very last thing we should be doing. It’s going to complicate things, but I’m was too far gone now to stop.
"I'm not having sex with you on my kitchen counter, Soph."
I pull back, removing my hands from him. "Well, why not?"
"Because, it has to be uncomfortable. And I want to take my time and worship every inch of you."
Now I'm annoyed because he's removed his magical fingers from my body and pulled the lace cup of my bra back up, putting an end to the fun time.
"Oh, so now you're worried about being the hero? Guess what, I like the villains more anyway." I huff, hopping down from the counter.
<
br /> I hate the laugh that leaves his lips because I'm one hundred percent serious and feeling rejected. Why the sudden change of heart? I pull my shirt up all the way and adjust it, avoiding his eyes.
"Sophia." He puts his hand on my chin, forcing my eyes on him. He’s so close I can count the freckles that dust his nose and the flecks of gold that line his deep green irises. "If you think for one second that I don't want to fuck you so hard you feel me tonight when you're tucked into your bed across the hall, clenching your thighs together and trying to be quiet as you bring yourself over the edge like you do most nights...you're insane." His thumb swipes along my bottom lip in a rough gesture that sends a shiver down my spine. "There's nothing I want more. But I always do it wrong, Sophia. I never get shit right, and I refuse to fuck this up."
"You're right, it was a one-time thing, and it isn't happening again."
He shrugs, "If that's what you want to tell yourself, but that doesn't mean that’s how it’s going to go. Either way, I'll respect you because that's what's important to me: you and the baby."
I soften, slightly.
I'm still horny, wound tight, and now have the worst case of lady blue balls in history. It's official.
Hayes Davis is a clit tease.
Thirteen
Sophia
"Remind me again why we have to do this?" I ask, my brow furrowed in frustration. A headache had formed there this morning and never gone away. I rub at the spot attempting to ease some of the tension and failing miserably.
"Because we told Kyle we'll do whatever it takes to keep both of us in the good graces of social magazines. That’s the whole point of our fake engagement, Soph.”
Hayes is standing in front of the mirror in the hallway, smoothing his hair out of his face. He looks entirely too good in his pressed black button down and dark jeans with loafers. How a man can look this good with absolutely no effort, I will never understand.
I'm a total ball of nerves, and he is cool as a damn cucumber. I might puke from nervousness.
No, really, I might. The medicine my new doctor prescribed seems to not be doing the job right now. It doesn't help that Kyle had an entire team of stylists, makeup artists, and hairdressers in my face at seven am this morning. I've been plucked, waxed, and styled to perfection. The makeup on my face is more than I put on in a year, but it does look great. I catch a glimpse of my reflection and decide, I love my hair this way, but I honestly can't wait to get out of these jeans and back into pajama pants.
"You look amazing," Hayes says. Our eyes connect through the mirror, and I give him a shy smile.
The man is a literal model, and his compliments make me feel...weird.
I'm not used to compliments from him. What I'm used to is our constant bickering and the headache that generally comes from being in the same room as him.
I can't deny that things have changed between us. Well, more like something has changed in Hayes.
"Thanks."
"Ready?' he asks.
"Uh, yeah. Let me just grab my purse and go pee really quick."
That seems to be all that I do lately: pee. And pee more. Then...pee again.
It was a never-ending cycle, and I never knew it was possible to loathe an inanimate object like I currently do. The toilet could suck it.
"You okay? You look like you want to stab me right now."
He's teasing, but he's not too far off base.
"I'm already sick of having to pee every five seconds, but...welcome to pregnancy." I laugh, then walk—albeit slowly in these ridiculous wedges—to my room to grab my purse and go to the bathroom.
When I walk back out, Hayes is leaning against the counter reading the baby book. Only now, there's at least fifty different colored tabs sticking out, and it looks like he's washed it twice. He's committed, I'll give him that.
"Did you know that at thirteen weeks, babies' teeth have formed in their gums? Even though you can't see them. That's cool as hell." He smiles, and I'm blinded for a moment.
By how damn handsome he looks.
It's annoying. He's annoying. Annoyingly cute with all of his random baby facts that he's got stored in that enormous brain of his.
He's kind, and caring, and it's cute that he's so happy about being a father. This is nothing like I expected.
"That is cool. Did you wash that book? It's about to fall apart," I say as he sets it on the counter, marking his spot before he grabs his keys and wallet.
"Nope, I just read it when I have a free moment."
Lots of free time lately, it seems.
The entire ride to the tv station, I'm mentally running through all of the different scenarios of how this can go wrong. I'm on scenario five when Hayes speaks, pulling me from the disaster I've somehow formed in my head.
"It's going to be okay, St. James. Don't worry."
"How did you know I was even worried?"
He shrugs, glancing at me, "I can see the wheels turning. Not to mention you've been staring quietly out the window the entire ride. You're never quiet."
"Not everyone can be as calm and collected as you, Hayes."
"Nothing to be nervous about. We'll answer a few questions about our engagement and be on our way."
"Fake engagement." I say, "That in itself is a recipe for disaster. I'm the world's worst liar."
"I know. Just like you lied and said you liked that shirt I wore the other day."
He looks offended, and it's actually a little cute. The big, bad Hayes Davis, the country's number one defender, set to be put in the Hockey Hall of Fame, is offended that I didn't like his shirt.
"It was mustard. The worst color in all of the color spectrum," I mutter.
"I'll have you know that my mother said it compliments my skin tone."
I shrug, "Fine. But I accidentally washed it. With bleach. And then threw it away."
He gasps just as he pulls the truck into the parking lot.
"I can't believe you did that, St. James. You don't hear me judging you for your furry bunny slippers and nightgowns."
"That's because you're too busy checking out my ass when I bend over to put them on."
He scoffs, like he can't believe I even knew that's what he was doing each time he "reached down to tie his shoe". "Whatever you say."
We walk side by side into the studio. The second we're over the threshold, a producer, young and energetic, meets us at the door.
"Hi Mr. Davis, my name is Brooke, and I'll be getting you and Miss St. James situated. We have a room off to the side stocked with water, drinks, and snacks in case you are hungry. Can I escort you this way to get fitted for a mic?" She's so energetic that her words run together, and I have a hard time even catching what she says, but then I'm led away from Hayes and put into a chair as we get set for the interview.
Thirty minutes later, I've been touched up, mic'd up, and introduced to Sarah, the newscaster who will be interviewing us.
Hayes takes his seat next to me and grabs my hand, squeezing it. Panic must be written all over my face.
He leans in and whispers against my ear, "It's okay, just breathe. It's not good for the baby for you to be this nervous."
He's right. I take a deep breath and the two newscasters join us on the stage.
"Alright you two, thanks again for coming out and offering us an exclusive interview. We appreciate you being here." Sarah, the newscaster, smiles and offers me a water, which I graciously take. "If you're ready then we are."
Hayes looks at me and nods.
My first television appearance and I might puke in front of everyone.
"And we are live in three... two... one..." The production assistant says, clicking the camera roll thing.
"Good morning Seattle, Sarah here with Seattle NBC, and today we have a very special surprise in store for you. We are here with the Seattle Wolves’ beloved defender, Hayes Davis—and someone very important to him."
The camera cuts to the both of us, and we smile and wave. Hayes does it so natu
rally—it's nothing to him.
"Hi Sarah, thank you again for having us here." He smiles the same heart throb smile I’ve seen grace the covers of countless magazines. "I want to introduce you to someone who is so incredibly special to me. I've been hiding her away for far too long. Her name is Sophia St. James, and she's stolen my heart." He places his hand over the spot where his heart is and taps it.
Oh god, I'm going to vomit.
I smile, even though I know my cheeks must be flaming red, "I think it's you that's stolen mine." I say sweetly.
Fake, right?
"So, tell us everything! I hear that the two of you are actually childhood loves. Is that true?" Sarah asks.
Hayes laughs, "Yeah, you could say so. I chased her around the playground in the fifth grade and pulled her pigtails until she agreed to marry me."
He remembers that?
That's not exactly how it happened, but close enough.
"Actually, I think it may have been me that chased you, Hayes." I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Shh, we can't let the world know that I'm a fool in love, Sophia. I have my masculine image to uphold." He squeezes my hand. "The truth is, I wasted a lot of time not loving Sophia, and now I'm making up for lost time. She is an amazing woman, and I'm lucky that she chose me. She makes me happy. She deals with my shit, and I know it's not easy. My mom always told me that when I found the girl of my dreams, it wouldn't be easy. It would be hard." He pauses and looks at me with fire in his eyes, "Love is easy. But finding a way to love each other through the hard times are the times…that’s what you’ll remember. Sophia is it for me. Forever."
His words strike a chord in me. The way that those lies so easily tumble from his lips… and the smallest part of me wishes that they were the truth. The same part of me knows that Hayes isn't capable of being with only one woman.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I won’t give him the chance to break my heart again.
"That's so sweet, Hayes. Sophia, how are you adjusting to the professional hockey player lifestyle?"
"Well, it's been an adjustment, that's for sure. I mean, like any couple, we have our ups and downs. We aren't perfect, but the important thing at the end of the day is that we trust each other, and when things get hard, we lean on each other. The rest of it is just background noise. All we see is each other."
