I shake my head, my eyes moving back to the windows as the visibility is nothing but a blur of gray.
He says my name again before I feel his fingers on my face. Turning my head to look at him, his brows are furrowed deeply. “Everything is going to be fine. Don’t look out there, look at me.”
It’s really hard not to freak out when the walls shake with each strike of thunder. But I try for him.
“I’m scared, Hayes.” Whispering the words, I listened to the alert repeat in that same robotic voice a second time.
His thumb brushes along my cheek, slow and steady, like he’s trying to anchor me here. “You need a distraction,” he murmurs.
“Like what?” My voice is barely there, lost under another rumble of thunder.
Hayes doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops to my mouth, lingers there for a heartbeat. Then his thumb drifts lower, tracing the curve of my bottom lip. The touch is featherlight, but it sends a shiver down my limbs.
“Hayes…” I whisper his name, unsure what I’m even asking for.
He leans in, closing in on the space between us. He hesitates, his breath warm against my lips. A silent question. A chance for me to pull away.
But I don’t.
Closing the distance between us, his lips meet mine. Soft at first, testing, then deeper when I melt into him. The storm still rattles the walls, but all I feel is the heat of his mouth, the solid press of his body against mine, like he’s rewriting fear into something else entirely.
The kiss breaks too soon, both of us pulling back just enough to breathe. My lips tingle, still warm from his. Hayes’s eyes search mine, dark and intent, like he’s waiting for me to second-guess this.
I don’t. Instead, I’m wondering if I’ve already been taken out, and I’m imagining my greatest dreams during my last fleeting moments.
Flattening my palm against his chest and feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat under my fingers, I discover it’s just as unsteady as mine. Without a word, I shift forward, swinging one leg over his hips until I’m straddling his lap. His hands grip my waist instantly, holding me there like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
A rough exhale escapes him. One that is full of relief. “Kelsie…”
I don’t let him finish. I cup his face, my thumbs brushing the scruff along his jaw, the same beard I’ve fantasized stroking, and drag him back to me.
This kiss isn’t soft. It’s hungry, all teeth and shared breath, his groan vibrating against my mouth as I tilt his head to deepen it. His hands slide up my back, pressing me closer until there’s no space left between us, until the only thing shaking isn’t the walls but the way my body trembles against his.
The storm is a distant thing now, just background noise to the way Hayes nips at my bottom lip, his hunger endless. We break apart only to come back again, slower this time, savoring—like we’ve got all the time in the world, even as the wind howls outside.
His hands roam my waist, broad palms spanning the curve of me, fingers pressing in just enough to leave phantom marks I’ll feel later. One thumb brushes the sensitive hollow above my hip bone, a slow, deliberate circle that makes my breath hitch. He squeezes, not rough but possessive, like he’s testing the give of my flesh under his grip—memorizing me.
Then his touch slips higher, under the hem of my shirt. The warmth of his palm against the bare small of my back is a shock; his calluses drag lightly over my skin in a way that sparks a full-body shiver.
“Oh!” I gasp, arching into him without thought. His fingers flex in response, pressing me closer, and for a dizzying second, I imagine those hands wandering further up my spine, around my ribs, lower where my pulse throbs achingly between my thighs.Everywhere.
I’m not the only one under the influence. As my hips move, grinding against him, I can feel how easily his body betrays him.
This feels unreal. It’s making me want things, a whole long list. Things I can’t, not right now.
“Hayes, wait.” My voice is breathless, my forehead resting against his. “The cameras might be down, but… we can’t. Not here.” I glance at the booths around us, the bar where customers eat. “This place is—it’s not…”
Ireallydo not want to think about popping my cherry ten feet away whenever I’m serving drinks.
He exhales, rough but understanding, his thumb stroking my hip bone in slow circles as he nods like he’s in a daze. “You’re right.” A beat, then his lips brush mine again, softer this time. “So we just keep doing this?”
I nod, already pulling him back in. “Yeah. Just this.”
A slow smile curves his mouth against mine. “Can’t think of a better way to pass the time.”
Then his fingers are burying deep into my hair, tilting my face to his as we sink into another kiss—deep, unhurried, like we’re learning each other by touch alone. His other hand traces my jaw, my throat, the slope of my shoulder, never straying too far, never crossing the line we’ve drawn. It’s torture and heaven all at once, the way he teases the edges of control, the way I arch into every touch like I’m starving for it.
I’m swearing it to myself.
