He probably came to collect his things;
my subconscious takes a sip of her cheap white wine and flicks through her glossy magazine.
“Sammy––”
Without drawing my gaze from the highly sexual man in the doorway, I shake my head effectively halting Jess’s following words. “Let him in,” I breathe then perceive his guard as he visibly relaxes.
“Sam, I don’t think that’s such a––” I glare at Matt, causing him to discontinue with his opinion.
“I said. Let. Him. In.”
Resigned, both Jess and Matt hang their heads and step aside.
Stepping over the threshold, Hayden strolls towards me. His Dior cologne tantalizes my senses in ways I almost forgotten that it could as he stands towering over my towel-wrapped body. I’m transfixed, watching vigilantly at the motion offered by his Adam’s apple as he forces a swallow. Just like King Arthur wielding Excalibur, this single particular action has Hayden wielding my excitement, my yearning, and the dark places of my body––places that he knows all of my secrets to––begin to reawakening.
“We’ll talk in my room,” I finally push past the constriction in my throat. His sexy, floppy lock at the front of his hairline bounces as he nods in agreement.
“We will be right here for you, sweetie.” I motion a nod and smile with gratitude at my roommate, who is already in her ivory satin pyjamas, before turning on my heel and retreating back to my room, with Hayden in tow.
I expect Hayden to perch himself next to me when I lower myself on the edge of my bed. He shocks me by pulling out the white dressing stool from under the table opposite. Lowering himself onto the lilac cushion that covers it, he rests with his legs spread, his forearms propped on his knees. His knotted fingers hang in the vacant space in-between.
I am loosely aware of the soft music playing over the speakers of my iPod dock, yet the awkward uncomfortable feeling that two people experience on a first date is stifling. Countless words which need to be voiced are replaced with the occasional, small shy glances.
Feeling awfully underdressed as my ex-fiancé gazes at me with conflicted yet sensuous eyes; I clear my throat and tighten the towel around my naked body, secretly grateful that I hadn’t already taken my bath before he paid a visit.
“How have you been?” I ask.
Bearing the weight through his arms, his shoulders hunched, he peers up at me with an unreadable expression. “You are kidding me, right?”
I shrug my shoulders shakily. “I’m sorry; I don’t know the protocol for what this”––I draw an invisible line between us––“situation is, Hayden.”
He hangs his head, releasing a heavy sigh. “No,” his head resumes hanging low, but I am pinned by his intense gaze. “I’m sorry. Sorrier than you will ever know,” he’s barely audible; still, his eyes are both glossy and rueful.
Irritated by the prolonged stint of the conversation, I mutter, “Why are you here, Hayden?”
“I have been a complete idiot,” he frowns. “I want to apologize, and hopefully, you’ll grant me time to try and explain myself.”
I cock my head to the right, my brow arched as he remains reticent. “Well?” I urge, wrapping my arms around my middle.
“Thursday morning, I found out that Addison has come back. I am not using that as an excuse for my behavior that night, but I want to be completely honest with you, because you deserve nothing less.” I see his pain and fretfulness in his expression. He unlocks his fingers and rubs his hands together. I notice he is still wearing the Claddagh ring I gave him at Christmas.
“She’s back? As in…”
“As in, she is back in San Francisco. Samantha, I was scared. The last thing I want is her tarnishing my future with you. I told you how vindictive she is, I don’t want you being dragged into it.”
“Hayden, I’m a big girl. Trust me when I say, Addison is no threat to me.”
I watch him carefully as he traces his tongue over his lips and hangs his head again.
“But I want there to be an ‘us’, Samantha,” his voice breaks and as he slowly rears his head up to face me, twin tears escape his eyes and trail down his cheeks, before dropping onto the knuckles of his left hand.
I close my eyes as though his words have wounded me. “Hayden…”
“Please. Sam,” when I open my lids, Hayden is already rising from the stool. He pulls it nearer to the side of the bed so he’s sat directly in front of me. “I was trying to save myself from any future hurt that there was a chance I could experience. I was living in the past––in your past, and that was wrong,” distracted, he shakes his head, “So very wrong. I will do anything; I will seek any form of help. I just want you back. God, the last forty-eight hours have been Hell.” He fists his hands through his hair while Snow Patrol duets with a soft voiced female about setting fire to the third bar.
“Do you remember Christmas Eve?”
I frown, “Of course I do, you proposed.” I smile at the memory of the Kodak moment. “It’s not something you forget.”
“I made a silent vow that night, that I would follow you into the nine circles of Hell if I had to. I meant it. But at the time when you felt most alone when that jackass demeaned, and oppressed you the other night,”––he closes his eyes and forces himself to swallow––“I broke that promise, I allowed it, and I allowed you to walk away.” He captures my hands in his, closing around them like an oyster shell, and searches my eyes that are now swimming with tears. “It was the worst mistake of my life. I will never, ever do that again. I will never leave you again, Samantha.”
“Hayden, I have already told you about the guilt and shame I hold from those years. I don’t want to have to be reminded of the fucked-up things that I did, especially by you––the person who I changed for because I love you so Goddam much and would do anything for, to have you in my life. It’s not fair.”
I pull my hand free from his oyster-clutch and press it to the side of his face. Caressing the arch of his cheekbone, he leans into my touch.
“I gave you the chance right here in this room, to walk from me after you saw that sliver of the old me, after I told you the truth about myself. I opened that door for you, but you choose to stay, you choose to put that behind us and to move on. Yes, it’s been tiring, but we fought through it. You asked me to spend the rest of my life with you, for God sake. You cannot keep throwing this at me. It’s the actions after the feat that counts. And I haven’t given you any further reason to doubt me.”
He pulls my hand from his cheek and leads it down to his lips. They are so soft and warm on my palm. The devotion he feels is abundant as he presses a kiss in the center of it.
“Samantha, I’m going to be honest. I can’t accept it. I can’t accept that part of you, I wish I could explain why, and attempt to get you to understand, but it’s just something I’m unable to do, because it doesn’t even make complete sense to me. But I will change, I’m not giving up, I’m not letting that grating voice get the better of me anymore. From now on, it’s me, you, and the baby. Just, say you will take me back.” And it’s an impassioned plea that strains my heart.
Oh, Hayden, I don’t want you to change. It’s the way you cope.
I have never once doubted his abilities to be a gentleman, but his mind can turn so dark, so suddenly. I observe him closely, absorbing every detail of his handsome face. Hayden Wentworth––the man with an angelic face but with a mind of a demon.
I shake my head. “Hayden, I don’t want you to change. Okay, you can’t accept what I have done, but I need you to accept the fact, that just like you, I have a past, and get over it, because I have. Neither of us can focus on the future, if we are still monitoring and living in the past.” I lean in and rest my brow against his. “Just let it go. We don’t want to sacrifice what we could have, for the mistakes that we should have learned from.”
He sniffles, and nods his head without resistance.
The tips of our noses are touching; the warm, minty scent of his chewing gum spirals and strokes my face, setting my body ablaze. I cannot think of a solitary thing that I want more, than him.
Searching each other’s eyes, we wait for each other’s consent to move closer. I’m the first to concede, our mouths colliding at once as soon as I lift my head. I’m rewarded with his warm, full lips working against my own as we invade each other’s mouths with passionate intent, reacquainting ourselves to the territory that we never want to leave ever again. I’m vaguely aware of his movement, as he shifts from the stool and sits next to me on the bed, his lips refusing to leave mine.
His hand slips into my hair and cradles the back of my head as the pressure and urgency of the kiss intensifies. I never want to let him go. He may have let me walk away, but I was the one
to
walk away. I don’t ever want to make the same mistake again. With my unspoken resolve, I capture his face in my hands. My thumbs graze the stubble which coats his jawline before gliding to his throat, his neck and into his hair. I’ve missed him so much.
We are breathless when we pull away.
“We are going to be the death of one another; you do realize that, don’t you?” I breathe against his lips.
Pulling away farther, Hayden positions his warm, masculine hands on the sides of my face and gazes at me intently.
“We’ve known that for a while, but we have accepted it…because it is
us
. Samantha, I would sacrifice my sanity, my life, to hold you in my arms, to feel your lips against mine once more. If the last few days have taught me anything, it’s that I have no use for either if I lose you.” He presses his mouth against mine for a second time. When he pulls away, he delves into his front pocket, pulling out a familiar, white gold band with an elaborate, brilliant-cut diamond perched in the claw. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, I smile and snare my lower lip between my teeth.
“Samantha Kennedy. I have been the biggest idiot in the world. I want to greet each sunrise with you, and walk beside you as it sets. I will no longer dwell on the past, but focus on the future…our future. Will you marry me?”
I nod. “You, Hayden Wentworth, are the only person I could ever see myself marrying.” And with that, he slips the band onto my ring finger. I wriggle my fingers, opening and closing them as I adjust myself to the sensation of the adornment again.
“Please, never take that off, beautiful.” He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear.
“Never, I promise.”
I lean in to kiss him, every emotion that I recognize, passion, hunger, love, lust, relief, remorse––everything, being utilized and expressed within one fluid movement, one solid connection. I never want to experience one more morning of waking up without him by my side, ever again.
His hands are roving feverishly over my figure, influencing my entire body, my already rampant hormones, my desires and unspoken requests. I want him, I need him, I don’t care how––all I know is that I have got to have him, I need him to take me, to claim me as his again, to reseek that connection.
With my desires scattered on demanding breaths and passionate whimpers, I reflect his own eagerness and scramble to unbutton his navy shirt. Slipping it over his well-defined shoulders before peeling it down his arms, the heat of his body radiates toward me, heating my already scorching lust through the material of his white tank-top.
I pull him up with me as I push myself up from the bed. He towers over me at six foot two inches of alluring, unadulterated, sexual masculinity. I have to stand on my toes to reach up if we are to keep our lips sealed over each other.
“Arms,” I mutter against his lips and seize the hem of his tank-top, pulling it up his torso. He lifts them straight, allowing me to divest him of the white material while my fingertips skim over the muscles of his body. I toss the material onto the bed.
Standing topless, I already sense the effect which he has on my body as I drink him in, the shinning silver cross hanging around his neck resting against the light-golden tone of his flesh, his denim pants sitting perfectly on his hips, revealing the top of the V of his hipbone. His stomach tautens the minute my hands slither across his skin, dipping into the chasms between each muscle and circling his navel.
I peer up at him as soon as I hear him gasp as my fingers connect with the darkened disc of his nipple. His lips are parted, his eyes ravenous, while his nipple strains against my softly issued strokes. I offer a coquettish grin before snaring the side of my lower lip between my teeth.
I’m pulled flush against his body, as he presses one hand at the center of my back whilst the other fists into my hair. Lining teasing, rousing kisses down my jaw to my neck, I consciously tip my head back. I’m consumed instantly as the addictive abrasion of his stubble burns and prickles against my throat. The combination of gentle nips of his teeth and the enticing flicks of his tongue is mind-blowing.
My God, how I have missed his man and the feelings he elicits on my body, my mind.
After much fumbling with his zipper, I finally manage to undo his pants, the rugged sound of it lowering, along with the insight of what our actions will result in, fills me with raring anticipation. I pull away from him and hold his gaze. He watches me slowly sinking to my knees, stripping him of his jeans and his boxer briefs. He steadily steps out of one leg, and then the other. I’m momentarily shocked that I failed to notice, he had already rid himself of his shoes. I remove his black socks and discard them onto the growing pile of clothing.
“You are gorgeous, Hayden.” I rest back onto my heels, and slowly appraise my man, while he stands fixed to the spot, a small doubtful grin dancing its way fleetingly across his mouth.
He pushes his hand back through my hair before cupping my chin. “And you’re beautiful.”
Taking the moment to fully appreciate his God-like body, I begin at his ankles, and skate my hands up either leg, pushing myself up onto my knees as I climb higher, breathing him in as I go. He has hiker’s thighs, muscular, perfectly shaped thighs. I skirt my hands up and over his hips, and round him to squeeze his perfect ass. I smile up at him as my fingertips bore into his flesh.