I’m tempted to come up behind her and wrap my arms around her middle, trail my lips down the side of her neck, and kiss the spot that makes her moan, but I stay where I am and watch her in the mirror.
She tosses the makeup wipes in the trash can under the vanity and washes her face in the sink without saying a word.
Sometimes I feel so close to Hayley, like earlier in the club when we were dancing or that night in New York when she sat on my lap, and we talked about what happened in London. But other times I feel like she puts up invisible walls.
Sure, this past week has been fun. I love seeing Hayley let loose and have a good time, but I think her change in behavior has a lot to do with Jules’ announcement.
Hayley doesn’t do well with change. If it were up to her, she would keep all the people she loves in a safe little bubble, and no one would ever leave her side. So even though she will fully support Jules, she’s taking it hard that he’s leaving.
And losing Aiden on top of that is going to hurt even more. Out of all her band members, she and Aiden are the closest.
While she massages serum into her skin, I listen to the lyrics of “I Should Live in Salt” and it reminds me of us. Sometimes I wish I could read Hayley’s mind the way I always claim I can. Or at least, used to be able to before it all went sideways.
When Hayley finishes the last step of her skincare regimen, she turns to face me. “Dean’s going to kick Aiden off the tour, isn’t he?”
I nod slowly, my eyes flitting over her face, trying to gauge her mood. “Yeah.”
She marches past me, grabs her phone off the bedside table, and taps her foot while she waits for whoever she’s calling to answer the phone.
“Voicemail,” she grits out, and it dawns on me that she’s more angry than upset.
“Dean,” she says. “I swear to God, if you kick Aiden off the tour, I’m going to cancel the rest of my shows. I’m not joking, Dean. I refuse to get on that stage without Aiden. Just make sure he’s all right. That’s theonlything that matters. And he’d better be in Nashville tomorrow. If he’s not, I will fly him down there myself. I won’t lose him just because he got into a stupid fight.” She cuts the call and throws her phone down before spinning to face me and I’m staring at her. Fucking gawking.
She raises her brows and plants her hands on her hips. “What?”
I scrub my hand down my face and shake my head. “That has got to be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
Hayley bites her lip and fights a smile. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm.”
She shrugs but can’t hide her triumphant smile. “I thought it was time to grow a set of balls.”
I grab her hips and pull her against me so she can feel how hard she’s made me. “How about you leave the balls to me?” I grab her ass cheeks in my hands and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Have I told you how much I love that sweet pussy of yours?”
“Don’t tell me.” Her nails dig into my back as her teeth sink into my bottom lip. She sucks on it to ease the sting, but I love her brand of pain. “Showme,” she challenges.
My hand tangles in her hair and I yank it. She gasps, her neck arching and I dip my head, my lips and teeth grazing the thin skin over her pulse point as her fingers fumble with the buttons of my pants. She slides her hand under my waistband and wraps it around my dick, squeezing. My cock swells in her hand as she jerks it, hard, and I need to be inside her right the fuck now.
“I fucking love this side of you,” I murmur against her lips.
“Mmm.”
I lift her up and she squeals, laughing when I toss her onto the mattress and make quick work of undressing her. In seconds, she’s lying naked on the bed, my clothes are on the floor and I’m working my way up her body, brandishing every inch of her skin with my lips and fingers while she writhes beneath me.
“Almost as much as I love your sweet pussy.” I dip my head and take the first taste.
Just like heaven.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hayley
“Good afternoon,Nashville. This is the Danny & Shay Lunchbox Special, where we get the inside scoop on the inspiration behind the music topping the charts. If you’ve just tuned in, we have Hayley Saint James in the studio today,” Danny says. He’s a bearded hipster with black-framed glasses and an encyclopedic knowledge of music.
“Hayley, we’re so thrilled to have you joining us today,” Shay says, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “How’s the Hot Chicken?”
“Hot.” I laugh, reaching for my water. “But in a good way. I love spicy food.”