CHRISTOPHER
The walk back to the hostel is made in silence. Hayden’s arm is linked through mine, and we are walking along like we always do . . . except I’m not in comfortable silence like normal with her. There are a million questions running through my head at the speed of light.
You just don’t have the emotional intelligence that I’m looking for.
Everyone keeps telling me that I don’t have emotional intelligence, but why?
What is the point that I’m clearly missing?
What the fuck does an emotionally intelligent man do? Because I literally have no idea what I’m doing wrong here.
We get to the hostel, and as she goes to walk up the stairs, I pull her back and turn her toward me. “Hayden . . . wait.”
“What?”
I swallow a nervous lump in my throat. “I know I’m not the romantic kind of guy you want.”
Her eyes hold mine.
“But can you do something for me?”
“What?”
“Kiss me goodbye.”
“Chris . . .”
“Just once.”
I need to know.
“That’s all I’m asking, and then we’ll just be friends, and everything will return to normal.”
She goes to say something, and I cut her off as I kiss her softly. She tastes sweet and . . .
Delicious.
I slide my arms around her and kiss her properly this time, my tongue sliding between her parted lips. She kisses me back, and unexpected goose bumps scatter up my arms.
My cock begins to thump.
Oh . . .
Her body fits perfectly up against mine, and we kiss again. She’s measured, slow, and seductive . . . not at all what I was expecting. My eyes flutter closed.
What the fuck is this?
She jerks out of the kiss and steps back from me. Her eyes hold mine. “Goodbye, Christopher.”
She turns and bounces up the stairs and disappears into the building. I watch her, shocked, aroused, and confused.
Hmm . . . interesting.
I look down at the erection tenting my pants. “What are you fucking looking at?” I whisper angrily at him. I drag my hands through my hair in disgust. “Forget it. You can’t have her.”
I lie propped on my elbow and stare over at the seductress in her pure little pink pajamas, and under the covers she looks comfortable and relaxed.
Completely fuckable.
Hayden Whitmore.
Has there ever been a more annoying, infuriating temptation in the history of life?
I don’t think so.
It’s been a week since she casually kissed me, a week of imagining bending her over, a week of wanking in the shower until I nearly draw blood. And a very long week of following her around like a fucking puppy.
Not that she’d notice. She’s completely self-absorbed and most definitely not into me.
I think if I was on fire, she wouldn’t even notice, which is ironic because it feels like my dick actually is.
Everyone is out at the beach, and we are alone in our room.
She glances over. “How’s the book going?”
I curl my lip in disdain. I glance at the title:
EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE
“It’s okay, I guess.”
This book is a load of fucking baloney. The person who wrote this is not emotionally intelligent; they’re just plain fucking stupid.
“What made you buy that book?” she asks.
I fake a smile. I wonder.
She smirks knowingly and goes back to her book. “I like that you’re reading that.”
Shut. Up.
“I’m going to go out tonight,” I say to her.
“Okay.” She turns the page in her book, her eyes glued to the text.
“You going to come?” I ask.
“Hmm.” She scrunches up her nose. “Probably not.”
I frown. “Why? What are you doing?”
“I met some people downstairs last night. They’ve asked me to go to dinner with them.”
I narrow my eyes. “What people?”
I’m on high alert. Some romantic fucker is going to swoop in and steal her off me with pretty words and promises . . . wedding rings.
Not that I have her . . . but still.
“Some guys,” she mutters, uninterested.
“What guys?”
“The ones from Holland.”
Blond fuckers . . . ugh, my blood boils. She likes blonds.
“Suit yourself,” I snap.
She nods as she keeps reading, totally unaffected.
“Why don’t you come over here? I’ll cuddle your back while you read.”
“I’m good.” She rolls over and puts her back to me.
I know you’re fucking good. Good at being a prick-teasing asshole.
With no shame at all, I get up and climb into her bed. I’m allowed to spoon in bed with her; it’s something we’ve always done.
Only now I know how it ends.
I lie with her in my arms and imagine a million ways I could fuck her; I get turned on; she keeps reading her book-god only knows what’s so interesting in it-then I go to the shower and pull my dick alone.
I put my arm around her from behind and pull her close. I inhale her scent and smile into her hair as the world disappears.
She has this calming effect on me. As soon as she’s in my arms, all is well in the world.
She keeps reading . . . and reading . . . and reading.
Does she even know I’m here?
“What could possibly be so interesting in that stupid book?” I huff.
“Everything,” she murmurs, distracted. “I’m just getting to the good bit.”
“I don’t . . .”
“Shh.”
“Did you just shush me?”
“I did, baby. Go to sleep.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“Shh.”
“I mean . . .”
“Christopher,” she snaps. “I’m reading. If you are not going to sleep, go back to your own bed.”
“A lot of women would die to have me in their bed, you know?” I huff.
“Why don’t you go and see where they are, then?” she mutters as she turns the page.
“I’m going out,” I warn.
“Okay.”
Fucking woman has me bent over a barrel, and she knows it.
“I’m going out to meet women,” I warn again.
“Okay.” She kisses my arm. “Have fun.”
Screw this . . . I am going out to meet women, and I am having sex tonight.
No more Hayden Whitmore puppy patrol.
I sit up.
“If you are going to the locker, can you get my white dress out?” she says.
I narrow my eyes. I know that white dress . . . the one that makes me hard as a rock on sight.
“No, you’re not wearing that out without me.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t know those fuckers?”
“What fuckers?”
“The ones from Holland,” I snap. “Who knows what kind of perverts they might be.”
“Oh . . .” She keeps reading.
I climb out of bed. “Is Bernadette or Kimberly going with you?”
“I haven’t asked them.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Christopher.”
“In that dress, I disagree.”
She turns her head. “Are you going to cuddle my back and go to sleep or keep mouthing off?”
“I’ll give you mouthing off.” I pull her into my arms aggressively from behind. “Why don’t we fuck?” I suggest.
“Be still, my heart,” she whispers as she reads. “If you’re horny, just go and find a girl to play with. You’re getting annoying.”
“You would rather read a book than . . .” I press my lips together because words fail me right now.
“Yes,” she snaps. “I would, actually.”
“I have needs, Grumps.”
“Then go and meet them. We are not fucking, Christopher. Not now, not ever. Stop suggesting it. You’re beginning to piss me off.”
Right. That’s it. I don’t need to stay here and cop this abuse. I get out of bed in a huff. “I am going out.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t come looking for me.”
“I won’t.”
I stare at her as I begin to fume.
She really doesn’t want me.
How?
I march outside and go to my locker in a huff. I get my things out to wear tonight.
Screw this.
I’m not coming on to her again . . . ever again!
I’m done being her puppy.
I go through her bag and retrieve her white dress, and I stuff it into the bottom of my bag. She’ll never find it here. This dress is for my eyes only.
I’m done with Hayden Whitmore.
Two weeks later
HAYDEN
“Happy birthday, baby,” Christopher’s soft voice whispers.
I drag my eyes open to see a white box with a red ribbon sitting in prime position on my pillow. “Huh?” I frown. “You bought me a present?”
He kisses my cheek from behind me. “Of course I bought you a present. It’s your birthday.”
“But we have no money.” I frown as I sit up in bed.
“I would sell my left nut for you.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I giggle as I pick up the precious gift and shake it at my ear. “You might need that one day.”
He chuckles too. “Open it.”
I slowly unwrap the present as he watches. It’s a necklace. A fine chain and a silver disk. I smile. “It’s perfect.”
He turns it over in the box. “It’s engraved.”
I read the words:
GHW
ALWAYS
C
My eyes flick up to him. “GHW? What’s that?”