Havoc: Mayhem Series #4

by Jamie Shaw

  “Do I know you?” I ask, and his smile widens.

  “Sweetheart,” he says, tapping his glow stick against the top of my head, “I’m your fairy godfriend.”

  I lift an eyebrow, and his face falls.

  “Seriously? Again?” He shakes his head in disappointment and exhales a deep sigh of frustration. “What does a guy have to do to earn a reputation around here? When Kit didn’t recognize me, that was one thing, but—” He pins me with furrowed brows and says, “Big gay best friend? Not ringing any bells at all?”

  “Leti?” I ask, remembering stories that Rowan and Dee have shared over coffee, and his smile sparkles brighter than the flashing stage lights over at the pond.

  “You have heard of me!” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and starts walking me to God knows where. “Those girls were going to give me a complex. Hey”—he looks down at me, and I stare up at him—“you haven’t seen my boyfriend around here, have you? Kit’s brother.”

  “Oh!” I say, relieved I’m not actually losing my mind. “Buzzed head? Lots of tattoos?”

  “Mason?” Leti snorts. “No, not that one.”

  “Tall? Looks a little older?”

  “I think you’re talking about Ryan,” he says with a shake of his head. “He’s the oldest. I’m with her twin.”

  I think of the guy who was flirting with the group of girls, and I pray I’m wrong when I ask, “Muscular? Really short hair?”

  “Bryce.” Leti laughs, and I find myself relaxing under his arm. He feels safe in this chaos—like he’s a native of this strobe-lit Narnia and can help me find my way back home.

  Chin turned up in disbelief, I ask, “How many brothers does she have?”

  “Too many,” he says with a warm laugh as he types something on his phone. Then he slips it into his back pocket and smiles down at me again, “I’m with the one with the perfect hair and the perfect smile and the perfect shoe size and—”

  “Hey!” Mr. Perfect says as he jogs toward us, and I immediately see Kit in his dark hair and his even darker eyes. He’s just a little taller, with the same lean build, long lashes, and curved lips. Leti winks at me, and his boyfriend breathes a little heavy when he finally catches up.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he says to Leti, and Leti hugs my shoulder.

  “Look who I ran into.”

  I hold out my hand and introduce myself as Hailey, and Mr. Perfect tells me his name is Kale.

  “He didn’t use the fairy godfriend line on you, did he?” Kale asks. When Leti releases me to smack Kale’s arm with the back of his hand, Kale laughs. “He’s been planning that one all night.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Leti orders. “Our meeting was by chance. I wasn’t looking for you at all.”

  I look back and forth between them, but Kale just smiles at my confusion and says, “You looked amazing tonight. Kit said you were nervous, but you really couldn’t tell.”

  “You were gorgeous,” Leti agrees. “How do you like Dee’s dress?”

  “I love it,” I say, lifting the part that got caught on the pricker bush earlier, still in awe that it didn’t get torn. I glance toward the pond, wishing I could catch a glance of Mike through the masses of people.

  “She worked really hard on it,” Leti tells me. “When you were twirling out on that dock . . .” His golden eyes are full of admiration when he gives a little whistle. “Just wait until you see the video. It’s gorgeous. I mean, the whole thing, really—stunning.”

  He pauses a moment, with Kale at his side, and then he says, “But do you know what I thought was the most beautiful thing about the whole video?”

  “What?” I ask, and he grins.

  “The way Mike watched you like a lovesick Romeo during every single scene.”

  Heat creeps into my cheeks, and Leti’s smile widens just before he takes me under his arm again.

  “Can I bestow some fairy godfriend advice on you?” he asks as we walk, but I’m too busy flushing red to answer him. His voice abandons its humor, full of nothing but soft sincerity when he hugs me close to his side and says, “Realize that a look like that is special. It means something.”

  He lets me digest that, but I already know Mike has feelings for me. I still remember the way he looked at me when he told me he was in love with me—how I could have understood his feelings by the expression in his eyes alone.

  Leti pulls me from the memory when he leans down and says, “And you look at him the same way.”

  He winks when my eyes lock on his, and he releases me from under his arm just as we arrive near the crowd gathered around the pond.

  “There’s a funnel cake calling our name now, Hailey Harper,” Leti says as he backs away. “But should you need us . . .”

  “Did you just quote The Labyrinth?” Kale asks when Leti turns around, and Leti laughs as they walk into the dark.

  “I have a T-shirt with that line on it.”

  I’m standing there alone, staring at the spot where Leti and Kale disappeared and wondering if I should have tried following them, when a hand slides onto my lower back. “Hey.”

  I look up into Mike’s brown eyes, feeling even more lost than I did before. “How are you here?” I glance toward where Leti faded into the night, and then at the crowd jumping up and down nearby. Blue lights flash over their heads, and Adam’s singing carries over the mayhem. “Aren’t you guys playing right now?”

  “I had a friend fill in for me,” Mike says, joining his hands behind my back, until I’m just standing there in his arms, weak-kneed as I gaze up at him. “We’re down to nine hours,” he says, his words laced with a desperation that I feel under my own skin. “I don’t want to waste them.”

  This is his night—his moment—and he should be onstage. But he’s here, holding me in his arms, counting down each hour we have left.

  My heart swells, and I don’t know what to say, but Mike saves me from having to say anything at all, because he takes my hand in his and says, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  Chapter 33

  Nine hours is probably only three at best, because this night can’t last forever. Soon, the sun will rise, the magic will clear, and there will be nothing in this clearing but scraps left as a reminder—a Solo cup here, a dimmed glow stick there. But for now, there’s fog under our feet, lights in the air, and Mike’s hand in mine.

  “What countries are you touring?” I ask as he walks me through vibrant colors and loud noises and thousands and thousands of faces.

  “Canada, China, Korea, Indonesia—”

  “Wow,” I breathe, my voice lost under the music.

  “Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Australia, England . . . I’m probably forgetting some.”

  I wonder how many thousands of miles away those countries are, and then I try not to think about it.

  “Do you think you’ll have Internet?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t.

  This night can’t last forever.

  This night can’t last forever.

  Mike glances down at me just as another set of fireworks explodes in the sky. White sparks rain down from black clouds, and he says, “If you think I’m not calling you every single day, Hailey, you’re wrong.”

  He veers to the right then and leads me into the woods. We abandon electric light for moonlight, walking through bare-branched trees until the music quiets, the fog clears, and Mike releases my hand. I can still hear the band playing back in the clearing, but it feels like a world away.

  “What did you want to show me?” I ask in a voice barely loud enough to hear, and Mike’s answer is sure in the quiet night.

  “How I feel about you.”

  Nervous energy thrums through me, and I sound far more composed than I feel when I ask, “And how are you going to do that?”

  Mike reaches out and tucks a wild curl behind my ear, his fingers brushing a feather-light trail over sensitive skin. “Don’t pull away, Hailey.”

  When he starts
leaning in, everything in me threatens to do just what he told me not to. He’s going to kiss me, and I’m so nervous, I’m panicking. He’s going to kiss me. Mike is going to kiss me!

  When he places his lips near my ear instead of doing what I thought he would, the tension in my body softens only a fraction.

  “I’m more nervous than you are right now,” he whispers, and then he pulls away to search my eyes. His tentative gaze holds mine, his soft words a plea when he says, “Please don’t pull away.”

  My heart is beating furiously against my ribs when Mike begins leaning in again, and it pounds harder and harder the closer he draws. I close my eyes on a breath, and I hold it until unbelievably soft lips brush mine. Time stops, the heat of Mike’s satin mouth tests the seam of lips, and the entire world explodes around us. The fireworks have stopped, but everywhere, there are sparks. They consume me from the inside out—through my heart, into my fingertips—and before I know it, I’m stretching onto my tiptoes and burying my fingers in the thick of his hair.

  The silence of the forest is interrupted by the low, sexy sound Mike makes when I pull against him, and I can feel the moment my sparks set him on fire. I’m melting against his hard body when his hand curls around the nape of my neck, like he couldn’t bear for me to pull away right now, as if I’d even try. His tongue does this thing in my mouth that no tongue has ever done in my mouth before, and at the way I moan desperately and my knees start to quiver, his hands slide down my sides and wrap behind my thighs, lifting me into the air.

  “Oh my God,” I pant at the sky when the hard muscles of his stomach press firmly between my legs, and Mike drops his lips lower, making my blood rush like rapids just beneath my skin. His mouth explores the curve of my neck, and when he pulls away to gaze up at me—his face flushed, his lips kiss-swollen, and his hair a disheveled mess—the hungry look in his eyes could melt stone. Desperate for more of him, I hold his jaw in my hands and kiss him like I’ve never kissed anyone ever.

  Mike’s body is fire between my legs, and when I cross my ankles behind his back, squeezing him closer, I begin to tremble all around him. I’m lost in the heat of his mouth, the tension of his fingers, the strength of his arms. It feels like this moment has been building and building, and with the scruff of his jaw scraping the palms of my hands, all I want is to let go.

  “Take me home,” I beg, my voice rough with lust while Mike’s smooth lips graze mine. He pulls away only far enough to pin me with that dilated, feverish gaze again. It’s questioning, concerned, and I pin my forehead against his. Heat radiates between us—from me, from him—and I explain, “Your place. Take me to your place.”

  “You’re sure?” he asks after a moment, and if I wasn’t before, I am once he forces himself to ask those words.

  Nine hours.

  I answer by letting my fingers memorize the curve of his jaw, the scruff of his cheek, the soft hair on his temple. When my lips meet his, I memorize that too. I memorize the sweet way he lets me set the tone, the way his fingers tighten around my thighs with barely controlled restraint, the way he moans against my mouth when I kiss that restraint away from him.

  Mike carries my trembling body halfway from the forest, never stealing his lips from mine even as branches snap under his feet, until he eventually lowers me back to Earth and takes my hand in his. The music gets louder and louder until we eventually step back into the clearing, our pace quick as we steal across the grass. Someone calls Mike’s name, but he doesn’t even turn his head. Instead, he leads me straight to his truck, opening the door and helping me inside. The inside light is on when he opens his driver’s side door, and the flushed hue of his face sends sparks racing across my skin. His truck growls to life, and one of Mike’s hands grips the steering wheel while the other slides onto my thigh.

  He doesn’t say a word as he drives—just keeps glancing over at me with those seductively dark eyes of his, and with every single gear change, his hand inches a little higher. It sneaks under the tulle of my dress, sliding up over butter-soft leggings, and the trembles in my body turn to desperate, needy quakes.

  I squirm as his grip tightens and his palm slides slowly higher, higher. My fingers are white-knuckling the bottom hem of my leather jacket as I stare out the windshield, and my muscles ache from his teasing. I glance over at him, and he holds my gaze as his finger traces circles on the inside of my thigh, sending torturous waves of sparks to a place just a little bit higher.

  “Pull over,” I order once I release my lip from my teeth, already unbuckling my seat belt and turning in my seat. Mike gives me a look like he can’t even comprehend what I’m saying, but I can’t wait for him to understand—I’m desperate for the taste of the salt on his skin, and my lips are on his neck even before he pulls onto the shoulder.

  His truck shuts off, his seat slides back, and before I can finish climbing onto his lap, he pulls me the rest of the way.

  When I straddle him, he’s not a rock star. He’s not my cousin’s ex-boyfriend. He’s just mine. I feel it in the way he kisses me, in the way he clutches my ass and pulls me close until the heat between my legs is burning a brand against his stomach. His gluttonous hands squeeze my ass and move me against his body, just enough to torture me through my leggings, and I gasp and bite his lip between my teeth, fueled by the masculine moan that rumbles against my mouth. When I pull away, his lips follow, refusing to let me go, but I press against his shoulders until he’s pinned against the seat.

  I breathe heavily as I stare down at him, my small hands on his big shoulders and my knees framing his thighs. He’s so beautiful in the moonlight—his dark lashes, his moist lips, and those bedroom eyes that stare up at me like I’m a goddess gracing Earth.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, and I surrender to temptation, reaching out and running my fingers gently through his hair.

  Mike closes his eyes, and then he captures my hand and draws my palm to his mouth. His soft kiss scorches my skin, and heat pools between my legs when he opens his eyes with the center of my palm still held against his mouth. My body trembles with need as I hover above him, and I know he can feel it.

  “You deserve so much better than a truck along the side of the road,” he says when he releases my hand, and I worry at the regret in his voice.

  “Do you want to stop?” I ask, and he holds my gaze for just a moment before his hands slide up my thighs, grip my hips, and press me slowly, firmly down onto his lap. I gasp when his sex pushes against my heat, straining desperately against his jeans and my paper-thin leggings.

  “No,” he says, the lust in his voice soaking my panties. His hands travel beneath the tulle of my dress, feathering up my sides and making my entire body break into goose bumps. Our eyes lock when he sits up and brings his mouth within a breath of mine. “I’ll give you better later.”

  Mike’s mouth claims mine with enough heat to ignite us both, and his body awakens every one of my senses. His cock teases my sex even as his hands continue playing up my bare sides. They travel higher and higher, until he’s palming the swell of my breast and sweeping his thumb across my pebbled nipple.

  I gasp against his mouth, and Mike nips at my bottom lip. “You’re so soft,” he breathes, and when he lowers his hand and pulls away from me, my body weeps for him. “I want to see you,” he says, his gaze intent even as his voice questions.

  A lump forms in my throat, but I can’t deny those brown eyes that have made me melt even in my dreams. I’ve wondered this before—what he would look like beneath me. And now that I see it, now that I have it—I want to give him anything he wants. I want to give myself to him.

  I sit a little further back, and I find the hem of my dress. With shivering hands, I start to lift it up, but Mike finishes the job, his fingers grazing the undersides of my arms as he lifts it over my head.

  “Hailey,” he admires, his eyes caressing my body before feasting on my breasts. I fight the urge to cover them, to hide from him, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
Mike takes my hands in his, places them against the sides of his neck, and shifts in his seat until I’m lying back against the steering wheel and he’s taking my nipple into his mouth.

  I don’t recognize the sound of pleasure that bursts from my lips, or the way my fingers scratch into his hair and beg him to continue savoring me. His tongue swims across my nipple, sending waves of pleasure rippling under my skin. He sucks and pulls and pins it between his teeth while he rolls the other between smooth fingertips, and I can’t help the way my hips respond to him. I grind helplessly against his cock, and it tortures us both until he’s groaning against my breast and I’m moaning into the air.

  “Take them off,” I pant, and Mike doesn’t ask for clarification before he hooks his fingers inside my leggings and helps yank them off. I take off my boots to remove the black material the rest of the way, and then I settle on Mike’s lap again, my panties damp against his jeans.

  I grind against him purposefully this time, kissing him with wild lust that fogs the truck’s windows, and Mike grips my ass as I do, encouraging me to ride him. I move my hips until the feel of his denim fly against my thin cotton panties steals my ability to think, until my moans are desperate cries, and Mike steals his lips from my neck to pant, “Let me inside you, baby.”

  Oh God. I don’t know if it was the gravel in his voice or the way he called me baby, but I’m fumbling for his zipper even as he helps me out of the last article of clothing I have on. Mike shifts his jeans and boxers down in one swift movement, and then I’m hovering on my knees above the point of no return.

  On impulse, I gaze down, and my eyes widen when I see the size of what was straining inside his jeans.

  “Shit,” he breathes as he follows my gaze, a line forming in his brow. “I don’t keep any condoms in my—”

  I shake my head at him, shock still washing over me. “I’m on birth control. It’s just—”

  I glance down again and bite my lip between my teeth, and when I lift my eyes, his expression relaxes with relief.