She smiled, angling her head to the side. “Hm. Not really.” She pressed a finger to his lips, enjoying touching him, enjoying the texture of his mouth. She already knew its taste. Already knew that he could kiss her until she was a quivering boneless lump.
She lowered her head and pressed her open mouth to his neck. She licked and sucked at the salty-clean taste of his skin. He sighed beneath her, his breath rustling her hair. Sitting back up, her hands dived for the hem of his shirt. She tugged it up. He leaned forward and lifted his arms, helping her pull it over his head. The sight that greeted her punched the air right out of her chest and made her hate jocks a little less, if this was a factor of their existence.
He was lean and hard. His torso cut and defined. Her gaze lowered to his abs. Screw six-pack. She counted under her breath. Was that eight?
Air sawed roughly from his lips, and when she lowered her mouth to his chest, his breathing spiked a notch as she licked him.
His hands came up to circle her waist. She let them drift until they crept toward her breasts, then she stopped him, grabbing his wrists.
“I do the touching. You just relax.” She pushed him back on the couch, enjoying her control. Hovering over him, she felt empowered.
She took a savoring glimpse of his face, of his dark, gleaming eyes fastened on her, before lowering her attention to his chest. She kissed the broad expanse—gentle butterfly kisses, and then long, open-mouthed moist ones.
She inched up to his jaw and neck and blew in his ear before biting down on his earlobe. He tensed beneath her with a groan and she knew he liked it. She felt drunk, which was impossible considering she didn’t drink. It was Nolan. He muddled her head and made her blood pump like thick syrup in her veins.
He tried to kiss her and she dodged his mouth. She needed to avoid his kisses. They turned her brain to mush.
His eyes burned her up. “I want your lips,” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, you’re going to get them,” she promised.
“On mine,” he clarified.
“You’ll enjoy wherever I”—she kissed his collarbone and then the pulse point on his neck and then the top of his chest—“kiss you.” Her lips trailed down the center of his chest.
His hands drifted back to her waist, his warm palms caressing the exposed skin above her waistband. His touch was more than tempting, but she moved his hands back to his sides.
“Let me touch you,” he begged.
She dropped her hands to his jeans, her fingers closing around the snap and tugging the denim open.
“Hayden,” he choked, his voice thick and strangled as his hands came over hers, stalling her. She looked into his eyes and felt herself slipping, drowning. “You don’t need to do that.”
He lifted a hand to circle the back of her neck and bring her closer. She didn’t resist as his lips claimed hers and those feelings she feared came rushing to the surface.
Her brain turned to mush. He had a way of kissing that consumed her, that melted her bones and made her pudding in his hands.
Her heart gave a violent thud against her chest.
“Hayden!”
Hayden and Nolan sprang apart. Her gaze shot to the door, and she realized the violent thud hadn’t been her heart at all, but her mom flinging the door open and banging it into the wall.
Mom’s gaze swept over her. She laughed, cackled really—her mother had an awful drunken laugh Hayden knew all too well.
She pointed at Hayden as she scrambled for her clothes like she was some great circus spectacle. Most moms would be shouting, maybe even crying, tossing out threats of lifelong grounding. Not her mom. Her mom laughed and offered up a high-five that Hayden ignored.
She had a friend with her. Some guy that looked strung out. Mom elbowed him. “Chip off the old block, right?” Mom eyed Nolan up and down appraisingly. “Well, hello there. Nice job, Hayden. Where did you find this tasty snack?”
“Mom,” she said sharply, hot embarrassment flaming through her. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you were going to Galveston.” Mom liked to gamble on the casino boats with the money they didn’t have. Whenever she did that, Hayden didn’t see her until late the next day. Sometimes the day after that.
Mom motioned to the guy next to her. “Alan here thought—”
“Alex,” the guy supplied, his eyes tracking over Hayden hotly. Her skin crawled as she hastily finished dressing herself.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Nolan addressed her mother, reaching for his own shirt and slipping it on over his head in one smooth move. Then he actually offered Mom a handshake. “My name is Nolan Martin.”
Hayden fought back an eye roll. He was treating her mother like she was some kind of parent that might react in a normal way to her daughter making out half naked with a boy on the couch. It was sweet of him to think she had that kind of upbringing. Sweet and very misguided.
“Hey, don’t apologize,” Mom said. “I was a teenager once, too.” She waggled her eyebrows and looked at the douchebag she brought home. “Still have the hormones of one.”
God. Shoot me.
“Oh! Food.” Mom’s heavily lined eyes alighted on the fast food littering the coffee table. She stepped forward and dropped down on the couch, picking up Nolan’s half-eaten burger. “Come on, Alan. You hungry?”
“Yeah. Starving,” he said, even as his gaze continued to roam over Hayden like she was the turkey on Thanksgiving Day.
Gross. But then, Hayden was used to the gross guys her mom brought home. It was the only type of guy Mom seemed capable of attracting. That’s why Hayden had a padlock on the outside of her bedroom door and a deadbolt on the inside, and she slept with a bat under her bed. She didn’t leave anything to chance. Not while living with Mom.
This world was full of victims and survivors . . . and then there were the people fortunate enough to live a life safe and free of fear.
Someday Hayden would have that. Someday she would have her own place. Someday she would sleep in a bedroom without locks on the door. And that bat she owned? It would take its rightful place in the garage with other sports equipment. Until then, she functioned by expecting the worst at all times and being prepared for it.
Nolan moved to stand beside her.
“I’ll walk you to your truck. Come on, Nolan.”
He lingered as though he would do the whole polite farewell thing to her mother, but Mom was too busy stuffing her face and fishing for the remote control in the couch cushion. The gross guy was more interested in watching Hayden than eating. What a creep.
She spun around and exited the house, confident that Nolan would follow. She hurried down the walkway toward his truck, the sound of his footsteps fast after her. When she reached the driver’s door, she turned to face him, her hands rubbing up and down her arms as though warding off the chill night.
Immediately, his dark gaze was assessing, peeling back the layers as he looked at her. It made her skin itch.
“What . . .” He paused, clearly gathering his thoughts and words. Undoubtedly, he was wondering about her train wreck of a mother and that douchebag she just brought home.
Sighing, she looked back at her miserable little house, sagging like a hunkered old body in the night. She needed to get back inside. She had left Sanjana asleep in her bedroom, and even though Mom and her friend didn’t know there was anyone else in the house, she did not like the idea of leaving anyone unprotected while they were at her house. It wasn’t as though her mother was a predator. Her mother was simply indifferent to the predators who buzzed around her . . . and followed her home.