HAYDEN
My eyes widen in horror. “Christopher,” I yell. “What are you doing?”
Christopher glares at the guy he has in a choke hold. “You do not fucking touch her. Do you understand me!” he yells in his face.
The guy pushes him off. “Fuck off, pretty boy.” He then grabs me aggressively around the waist and slams my body into his. “I’ll do whatever I want with her.”
Oh no.
Christopher snaps. He pulls me from the idiot’s grip and pushes me out of the way and then punches the guy full in the face.
“Ahh,” I cry as the hit connects.
The guy returns a hit, and Christopher staggers back. He runs forward and tackles the guy to the ground as they fight. They wrestle around, arms and punches flying everywhere.
“Oh my god, stop it,” I cry. I try to run in to break it up, and someone holds me back. People are shuffling in, trying to see. A few people step in to help Christopher, and then some stick up for the other guy.
It gets broken up, and the two men are held back from each other.
Christopher’s eyes find me across the crowd, and I throw up my arms. “What the hell are you doing?”
His nostrils flare. He turns and marches out of the hostel.
What the hell is wrong with him?
He practically runs down the corridor and pushes out the large front doors and down the stairs. He begins to walk off into the darkness up the road as I follow.
“Christopher,” I call.
He ignores me and keeps walking.
“Christopher,” I yell. “Don’t you dare ignore me!”
He stops, his back still to me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Getting the fuck out of here,” he says, his back still turned.
I catch up and walk around to see his face, and my heart drops. He’s upset.
“What are you doing?” I ask softly.
His eyes hold mine.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I don’t fucking know,” he cries. His eyes are wild, his hair is tousled, and his chest rises and falls as if he’s gasping for air. The adrenaline in his system must be through the roof.
I frown, taken aback. Something’s going on with him. He’s in the middle of another major freak-out.
“It’s okay . . . ,” I say softly.
“Nothing about this is okay, Hayden,” he cries. “I’m going fucking crazy.”
I stare at him, unsure what to say.
“I’ve been frantic all fucking day over you, and now . . .” He throws his arms up in surrender. “I saw him touch you, and . . .” He drags his hands through his hair.
“You got jealous,” I say softly.
“I do not get jealous,” he yells, infuriated.
He’s having some kind of episode here, and I don’t want to throw fuel on the fire.
I need to try to calm him down.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone today. I didn’t mean to worry you,” I say.
“That’s the point. I don’t worry. I don’t get jealous, Hayden. I don’t know if I’m up or down or just going fucking crazy,” he cries. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
I stare at him. He really has no idea . . .
“You’re in love with me,” I say softly.
His face falls.
“But that’s okay.” I smile hopefully. “Because I love you too.”
His eyes search mine.
“And now you’ve gone and ruined a very special moment between us.” I put my hands on my hips.
He stares at me, shocked to silence.
“Get your shit together and go back inside and finish your shift,” I demand.
Perspiration beads on his brow. His eyes are crazy, and I’m unsure if he’s about to run. I just need him to calm down and go back and work. If he runs now, it’s all over between us. I’m not going through that shit again.
“This is unacceptable behavior, Christopher. You can’t beat up every man who tries to talk to me. It’s not okay.” I shrug, frustrated. “I’m not a possession. You don’t have the right to act like that.”
“He was asking for it.”
“So be the bigger person and walk away. This isn’t who you are. You’re a lover, not a fighter.”
His eyes hold mine.
“Go and finish your shift. I’m going to bed.”
“You’re not coming back to the party?”
“No. My dickhead boyfriend spoiled my mood.”
He exhales heavily, disappointed in himself.
“Just go.” I point inside, and he turns and trudges back up the stairs.
“You’re really going to bed?” he asks me again.
“Yes,” I snap. I march past him down the corridor to our room as he follows me.
I open the door to our room, and I glance up at him.
“I’ll see you when I finish?” he asks hopefully.
“If you carry on like an idiot and get in one more fight tonight . . . so help me god.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” I march into the room, and he stands tentatively by the door. “And you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” I add.
He nods and then lingers as if waiting for something.
“And I’m not telling you I love you . . . because you’re just an idiot.” I turn down the blankets in a huff.
“I’m not telling you either,” he says.
I smirk, trying to hide my smile, and I know it’s going to be okay. “Good, don’t then.” I climb into bed. “Get out.”
His eyes twinkle with a certain something. “I think you have anger issues,” he says.
“So help me god, Christopher.” I throw a cushion at him. “Get out.” It hits the wall beside his head, and he smiles his first genuine smile.
“Good night, Grumpy.”
“There is nothing good about this night,” I lie.
The door quietly closes, and I smile into the darkness.
We fought, and he stayed . . . progress.
It’s just at 3:00 a. m. when I hear the door open. Christopher tiptoes in to the flashlight on his phone, undresses, and climbs into bed behind me and snuggles up to my back. He smells of soap, freshly showered, and I smile with my eyes closed.
He’s home.
It’s been a long night without him. Even when fighting, he was still missed.
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Three.” He kisses my temple. “Go back to sleep, baby.” He kisses my shoulder from behind, and goose bumps scatter up my spine. He pulls my hair back and gently kisses my neck. “I’m sorry about tonight,” he murmurs against my skin; his fingers trail up and down my skin as he thinks. “I just can’t stand the thought of someone taking you from me,” he murmurs sadly. “It makes me fucking crazy.”
I can feel his erection as it grows behind me. Christopher Miles is a sexual being. This is his way of making up. He’s scared; I want to make him feel better.
I stretch my neck out, granting him access and taking the cue. His hand roams over my skin up to my breast, his thumb dusting over my nipple as he takes my earlobe between his teeth.
His erection digs into my hip, and even in darkness I can see it so clearly.
I roll over and straddle his large body. He stares up at me.
The air crackles between us.
I lift myself onto my knees and slide down onto his large erection. I rock from side to side to loosen myself up and grant him entry.
His length is thick and hungry. My body slowly sinks deep down onto his. He holds my hip bones as he stares up at me in awe.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” I whisper. “I’m all yours.”
He sits up in a rush, his lips crashing against mine as he kisses me and holds me close. Emotional overload. Too intense to try to contain. An intimacy that I never knew I needed.
We rock together in the darkness, feeding our bodies, surrendering to the feelings between us.
I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life, done things that I regret. But there is one thing in life that I do know for certain . . . I am utterly and irrevocably in love with the beautiful Christopher Miles.
We were meant to meet.
He’s the one.