His grip on my hair loosens, his fingers slipping away as his gaze flickers to the door. His jaw ticks.
“Outside. In the barn and on the grass.”
I draw in a sharp breath. My mind fills in the blanks my memory won’t. The heat of the summer air. The rough scratch of hay against my back. His body pressing me down, strong and unrelenting. God. No wonder I feel this pull to him even when I don’t remember why. My body remembers. Isn’t that what they say? Your mind might forget but your body keeps the score.
My nipples rub against my dress, and I know they’re hard without looking. Hayes must notice too because his gaze drops there and his brows pinch together again like it pains him to see me. My whole body is flooded with the overwhelming sensation of need.
“Where else?” I whisper.
His eyes darken, a slow, consuming fire before they drag up to meet my gaze again. “In my bed. Upstairs.”
Fuck.
My thighs clench. My pulse pounds at the base of my throat. We were in his bed. What the hell were we thinking? What were we doing? Did we both want more?
“The night before our second wedding,” he finishes. His voice is gravel, and it hits me low, winding through my veins like a drug.
I chew my lip, trying to tamp down the flush that’s rising over my skin. But the damage is already done. I’m warm, too warm, turned on in a way that I’m not sure I know how to handle.
Hayes notices. Of course, he does.
“What did we do?” I ask because I want to know everything now. Every dirty detail like I’m watching a movie of my life that I’ve never seen before.
His arms fold across his chest, muscles flexing, stretching the fabric of his shirt. He smirks, slow and knowing. “Regan,” his voice drops, deep and rough, “are you getting turned on by this conversation?”
I shake my head, a pathetic attempt at denial, because the answer is a resoundinghell yes, I am. If reading romance is a turn on for me, well hearing about my past sexcapades that I don’t remember is the same thing.
He chuckles, watching me squirm. “Do you remember the night we spent together seven years ago?”
My stomach tightens. “Um…”Yes. So clearly it feels like yesterday.“Yeah, I do.”
He nods, gaze never wavering. “We did that. Andmore.”
My eyes widen as I look at him.
“I licked your pussy in my bed, felt you come against my tongue, and then pinned you down outside in the wet grass and took you.Raw.”
I inhale too sharply, the breath catching wrong, and suddenly, I’m choking. Hayes’ lips twitch, fighting back a smile. When I finally manage to recover, I push out a breathless, “I should… probably go to bed.”
His head tilts. “Is that what you want?”
No. I want him to pin me to this couch and remind me exactly what we did in that bed. I want to relive every moment my mind won’t give back to me. I want to know if what he just said is true, but I can’t say that.
“Yeah, I think so.”
I move to stand, but he’s already up, already stepping into my space, the firelight casting golden shadows over his sharp jaw, the determined set of his mouth. He lifts a hand, cups my chin, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles along my cheek.
My breath stutters.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Regan? You sure you’re not thinking about me doing something else to you right now?” His other hand finds my hip, a steady, grounding weight but I can’t think straight. “Regan,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel, rough and smooth all at once. His thumb brushes across my bottom lip, the softest graze, before he pushes just past the seam, slipping inside, pressing against my tongue. Instinct kicks in, and I suck, slow and hard, flicking the tip with my tongue before releasing him with a pop.
His pupils blow wide.
My knees feel unsteady.
Maybe that was too much.
Then, his voice drops, a low, rough whisper. “Did Declan kiss you tonight?”
