Page 130 of The Wingman

“Please?” I ask.

He gives me a quick nod. “Okay.”

Relief loosens the worry in my chest, and I rise up on my toes, careful not to touch his shoulder, and press a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin is warm and scratchy with stubble.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Now let’s go home.”

CHAPTER 60

DARCY

In his bedroom,Hayden carefully pulls his t-shirt over his head before tossing it onto the chair. His hands come to his belt.

“I’ll do it.” I push his hands aside, and he lets out a long, heavy exhale, watching me with heat flickering behind the exhaustion in his eyes.

I unbuckle his belt, and emotion expands in my chest. My fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers. When I push them off, his erection springs free, and my mouth waters.

Hayden’s cock is beautiful. It’s long and thick, more than what I’m used to and a little intimidating, but the muscles between my legs clench in anticipation.

I wrap my hand around it and his breath stutters. Beneath my fingers, his length is hard like steel.

“You’re so warm.” My other hand comes to his balls, and he lets out a rough exhale.

“Darce.” His hand covers mine, pausing my movements.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no.” Our eyes meet, a question rising in his.

He’s not used to being put first. All those years supporting others, making sure others are okay and having fun.

“Let me get you off first,” he says.

I shake my head. “Not tonight.” I give him a soft, encouraging smile, gripping his cock a fraction harder, and his eyelids dip. “Please?”

He laughs, probably because he’s learning at the same time that I am that he has no defense against me when I use that word.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am really”—I give him a long stroke, and his breath hitches—“really, sure.”

“Can you take the jersey off?”

My mouth curves. “What’s the matter, you don’t like it?”

He huffs a tight laugh. “I like it. I really fucking like it, I just—” He rakes a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I like your tits more. I spent a long time picturing them before.” He swallows, pupils tipping black. “Years.”

My pulse throbs between my legs, and my mind spins with the high of being wanted by Hayden like this. Slowly, I pull the jersey over my head, then my sweater and t-shirt. I take my jeans off at a criminally slow rate, fizzing with delight at the tortured, desperate look on Hayden’s handsome face as I stand there in a new lingerie set—a dark maroon and sheer enough for him to see the pinched, aching points of my nipples. A tiny bow is sewn between my breasts, and when his eyes land on it, I know he wants to tug it with his teeth.

“How’s this?” I whisper.

He just swallows, staring at my body with a pained look. His cock twitches against his stomach, beading with moisture.

His eyes lift to mine, dark and drugged, and he swallows again. “New?”

I smile. “Yes. You bought this for me.” A couple of mornings ago, he left a gift card for the lingerie store on the kitchen counter for me.

He works his jaw, tracing the lines of the lingerie over my chest and shoulders, then down to my hips and thighs. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his broad and chiseled chest rising and falling fast.

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