Page 61 of Switching Graves

“Who knows how Whitlock got his hands on it,” I scoff.

It doesn’t surprise me at all that he has this special space. The man somehow gets whatever he wants.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Hayes says in a near whisper, his words a little slurred.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

It was nice to separate myself from my laptop and venture out of my dorm, even if I ended up drinking a little too much and embarrassing myself.

As it turns out, being hunted is just as fun as it sounds.

Brushing his fingers up and down my arms, he leans in to nibble on my ear, occasionally breaking off to place soft kisses along my neck. Guilt wraps my chest into its iron grip, reminding me of every reason thisshouldn’thappen.

I have no intention of taking this any further than a quick hookup, and Hayes is a good guy. He deserves more than that.

He deserves someone honest. Someonereal.

He doesn’t even know my name.

“Hayes, I’m not sure if we should—” I begin to protest, but he covers my mouth with his in a sloppy, drunken kiss.

I’m swept up in it, my body too relaxed and my mind too slow to make any moves to stop him.

Finally, he pulls away, placing his hands on my upper arms to steady me when I almost topple over. “If you want to stop, we can end this right here. I’ll respect your decision without question. But I like you, Poppy. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but this doesn’t have to be anything more or less than what you want it to be,” he assures.

Truthfully, I should like Hayes too. Maybe in another life, I could. He’s almost perfect.

Brilliant, handsome as hell, funny, respectful—all the best things wrapped into one. Yet, for some odd reason, I can’t see myself in the future with him. I don’t get those nauseating butterflies whenever he’s near.

Not like I do when a certain annoying man is around. The one who shouldn’t even be on my radar.

My gaze swings over to his closed door, wondering where he is right now. Who he’s with.

No. I can’t even go there.

So what, though? Why does everything have to be so serious all the time? Why can’t I ever let myself have fun?

It’s what Poppy would do.

Turning back to Hayes, I offer him a reluctant smile.

“I like you, too,” I admit, testing the words on my tongue. Perhaps saying them aloud will make them come true.

“Good,” he smirks, pulling me back into his chest. “What about a trial run? We can give it a shot tonight and see where it goes. If you regret it tomorrow, then we’ll never speak of it again.”

“A trial run . . . ”

“Yeah, why not?”

Nodding so hard, my head spins again, I agree. “I can do that.”

With his hand on the small of my back, he guides me down onto his desk, never breaking our kiss. My legs wrap around his hips as his lips trail down my neck, my chest, and eventually over my shoulders as he pushes the straps of my dress out of the way. Time seems to pass by in random blinks as the alcohol settles deeper into my system. One moment, he’s hovering over me, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth. The next one, he’s standing again, his unskilled fingers tugging my gown and bra over my head to expose my entire body to the cold night air. His hands grope my breasts, lips and tongue running over them before he’s kneeling between my legs.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs into my thigh, swiping his hand across my thong before hooking a finger around it and tugging it down. He doesn’t waste any time diving right in and placing his cold lips against my warm skin.

His mouth works sloppily against my clit, somehow managing to pass by the most sensitive spot to focus on whatever is next to, above, or below it. I’m so frustrated after only a few moments, I lift my hips and grind into his face, hoping for some sort of friction in the right places. When even that doesn’t work, I let my head fall back against the desk, crossing my arm behind my head to relax and find some semblance of pleasure from whatever the hell he’s doing.

Something shifts to my left, so subtle that I’m sure I’ve imagined it.

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