Page 39 of Hayes
He nods. “Take your time. You should find anything you need in the bathroom and closet. I’m going to set everything up in the bedroom at the other end of the hall. Meet me there when you’re ready.” He leans in, brushing the softest of kisses against my lips, and then leaves before I can say anything.
I exhale a deep breath, tempted to follow him out of the room and tell him to hell with everything and everyone; I don’t care about the risks—fuck me right now.
But the need to survive long enough to get revenge wins out. I don’t know how they’d know if we fucked without recording ourselves. Or if they’d really kill us if we did, but I’ll go along with Hayes’s plan for now.
When I enter the bathroom and find a large free-standing tub, I decide to take advantage of it. I want to clean off everything that’s happened and calm my nerves before reuniting with Hayes.
I take far longer in the tub than I initially planned. Maybe it’s nerves. Maybe it’s because I was wrong about my attraction toward Hayes. Maybe I find him repulsive. Maybe I don’t trust him. Maybe it’s because I know I’m going to enjoy this when I should want to slice through his jugular until he bleeds out.
Hayes is a Retribution King, and he has secrets.
Is he really helping me? Or is he distracting me to keep me from killing more men until they figure out what to do with me?
I push the door open to the bedroom that he told me to meet him in, my decision made.
My heart catches in my throat when I see him. He’s showered and changed into a pair of tight black pants but didn’t bother with a shirt. His long dark hair is pulled back into a bun that drips water onto his strong back as he bends over the bed.
He stills when I enter, feeling me even though I haven’t said a word. All of my fears disappear as I step toward him. I’ve never wanted a man more. I don’t know who Hayes is. I know virtually nothing about him. I don’t know where his loyalties lie. I don’t know what gets him up in the morning. But I know he’s a good kisser, and he loves me.
Jesus, that word—love.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
He can’t love me. He doesn’t know me any more than I know him. He’s just infatuated with me because I have a pretty face, smart mouth, and know how to use a knife and a gun. Once he gets what he wants from me and fucks me, the infatuation will fade.
But then he paid to marry me…he’ll be in my life forever.
I shake my head, not letting myself go there.
Hayes turns, his broad chest and narrow waist taking my breath away.
He’s mine, the words shoot through me like a possessive fire.
Fuck, I’m so screwed.
The tattoo of the Retribution Kings is marked onto his chest, slightly covered by a bandage still over the spot where I stabbed him. Glancing up, I expect to see his always-present grin and equally adorable dimple. Instead, his mouth drops when he stares at me.
I glance down at the oversized black shirt that I’m sure belongs to him. It barely covers my ass. My red hair is curling at the ends as it slowly dries. I’m not wearing any makeup, nothing to hide who I am. There’s nothing special about what I’m wearing, but the way Hayes looks at me makes me feel like Cinderella descending the stairs at the ball. I’ve never seen a man look at me like I’m beautiful, special, his.
My tongue sweeps across my bottom lip. I don’t care about the ridiculous and cruel circumstances that have led to this. I want this. I want him.
Desire sweeps through the room, and I feel our bodies being pushed together as if by a force we don’t control.
Hayes’s lips lift up into his infectious grin. That dimple caves in at his cheek as my heart does small somersaults in my chest. His eyes sparkle with a mischievousness and playfulness that only he could find in a moment like this.
I crack my own smile, unable to keep my grumpy facade up for long around him.
“Do this right,” a deep voice from behind me makes me jump.
I spin to find a serious-looking man with dark brown skin, a shaved head, and a viscous look—the polar opposite of Hayes. His brows are furrowed, and his mouth curls into a sneer with an unyielding intensity that I’m glad I’m not on the other side of. He’s not looking at me; he’s looking at Hayes.
“You can’t afford to fuck this up, Hayes. You made your choice despite my protests. You know what will happen if you don’t.” He turns to me, and I shudder. His predatory gaze skims over me as if he’s about to pounce. And unlike Hayes, with this man, I doubt I’d enjoy it.
“You know I won’t fuck this up, Gage.”
Gage, that’s the man’s name. It fits.
His gaze sweeps over me one last time as if to determine if I’m worthy whatever price his friend will pay. I don’t know what he decides, but he turns toward where I see a laptop has been set up on a small table, and my stomach curls.
