It was her 2 percent of doubt, though, that grabbed his attention, promising possibilities he shouldn’t ever consider.
“Is that really all there is to it?”
Hadley lowered her gaze, suddenly seeming to find the collar of his stretched T-shirt completely fascinating. “Yes.”
“Whatever you say, Hadley.” But they both knew she was wrong, even if neither of them was going to do a damn thing about it.
Chapter Ten
Hadley lasted five dances past when she should, and every single one of them had been with Will. Now they were back in PawPaw’s apartment, and she was in the guest bathroom trying to reach the zipper tab on her dress without ripping it or popping her shoulder out of the socket. She reached behind and did a back bow deep enough to crack her spine but couldn’t reach it.
Blowing back the strands of hair that had come free from her braid during “Twist and Shout,” she changed tactics and went high, reaching over her shoulders that she’d slumped forward in an effort to reach the zipper. Still nada.
She’d worn sweaty sports bras that were easier to peel off than this dress.
Okay, there were three choices here. Sleep in the dress, ask Will for help, or gnaw off her own arm like a coyote caught in a trap. While option one was tempting, she couldn’t imagine that Alice would appreciate getting back a wrinkled, slept-in garment in the morning. That left only one realistic prospect—asking for help.
Biting back her distaste of having to ask a favor from the evil twin, she called out, “Will, can you help me with this zipper real quick?”
She barely got the words out before he was in the doorway, filling it up and making the already small bathroom seem minuscule.
“I can’t reach the zipper,” she said, trying—and failing—not to react to the fact that he’d already taken off that ridiculously small T-shirt. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d put another shirt on. He hadn’t. It was just him in a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips, showing off the tops of those vee marks on his hips that made forming words really fucking hard. “Can you just get me started?”
“Sure.” He closed the distance between them until he stood directly behind her as she faced the mirror over the bathroom sink. “Here, let me get the flowers first.”
Touch gentle, he tugged the ponytail holder from the bottom of her braid and then ran his hands through her long hair, combing out the long-stemmed daisies so they fell, landing in a circle around her bare feet. There wasn’t a sound in the room, as if the rest of the world had fallen away. His fingers combed through her hair until it was smooth and loose, then pushed it to the side, exposing the back of her neck. Watching him in the mirror, there was no missing the tension in his jaw or the way he swallowed hard before reaching for the zipper.
She held her breath as he paused, her heart hammering against her chest. Then he inched the zipper down, the fabric of the dress falling away as he did so. The muscle in his temple pulsed as he stood frozen behind her, looking down at her bare skin, want and need swirling in his green-eyed gaze.
The thrill of anticipation made her skin tingle as she watched it all play out on his face. Gone was the usual smirk, the cocky self-assurance. He was a man at a breaking point. He wasn’t alone in that.
An hour ago, Hadley would have known exactly what to do in this situation. She would have walked away with a cutting remark and one single triumphant look back. But now? She wasn’t going anywhere. Desire, warm and demanding, had her bare nipples puckering beneath the dress as she felt the back of his knuckles skim down the length of her spine at a leisurely pace that stole the air from her lungs, not stopping until he brushed the scalloped edge of her panties, sending a shiver of lust over her.
It was all she could do to stay upright as a languorous warmth flooded her body. Holy hell, she clenched her eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath in a desperate attempt to remember why this was a bad idea. But when she opened her eyes again, she found him looking back at her in the mirror, and all her best intentions melted away.
He raised an eyebrow in question, his fingers hovering over the edges of her open dress. One shake of her head and she knew he’d walk away. Both of them would act as if this moment had never happened—as much as that would be possible. It’s what she should do, because despite whatever was going on now, she knew Will Holt wasn’t for her.
They weren’t potential lovers. They weren’t friends. They barely tolerated each other. Yet here she was, practically burning with want and nodding her consent.
There weren’t words or an acknowledgment; he simply used the slightest touch to nudge the dress off her shoulders and down over her hips until it pooled on the floor. His sharp intake of breath thundered in the small bathroom as he reached around and cupped her bare breasts with his strong hands. The last bit of her hesitation faded away when he took her nipples between his fingers and rolled the hard peaks, tugging them lightly and sending pleasure shooting through her—the kind that made her knees buckle as she bit down on her bottom lip.
She planted her palms on the sink to help keep her balance under the blissful torture. There was just something about watching him tease her with slow, sure movements as they stood silently in front of the mirror that knocked her off balance, sped up her pulse, and left her yearning for more. It had to be the strangeness of the situation. It couldn’t be because of Will; that wasn’t even something she could consider.
It was just a case of right moment, wrong man—one with magical hands.
She’d just about gotten a handle on how fucking good it felt to have him touching her, sending the best kind of little shocks from her nipples to her clit, when he leaned down and kissed the spot right behind her ear, moving with deliberate intent down the side of her throat. Electric desire sizzled along her skin as he kissed and licked and sucked and nipped his way down to where her shoulder met her neck. That, in addition to the way he was tweaking her nipples, was exactly the kind of world-tilting teasing that had her holding on to the sink so she wouldn’t slide off the side of the earth into oblivion.
He lifted his head, and the mix of intense lust and surprised wonder on his face as he looked at her in the mirror knocked her back to rights. What in the hell was she doing? This was Will Holt. He was the worst. They couldn’t stand each other. She should stop things now and—
The tips of his fingers glided down her stomach, not stopping until he brushed the edge of her panties. Anticipation whipped through her. This wasn’t a good idea—but she nodded anyway. And when his fingers slid under the elastic band, she promised herself this wouldn’t change anything.
…
Will hadn’t walked into the bathroom with any plan beyond helping with Hadley’s zipper. He’d never meant to touch her silky skin, feel the way she responded to his touch, or let things get to the point where she was all but naked and he was sliding his fingers between her legs. God, she was soft and slick and so ready for him. And the look on her face when he circled her clit? The raw, honest desire was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
He could watch her like this the whole night, take her right up to the edge and then back off. “Tempting” didn’t even begin to cover it, but he was a greedy bastard and he wanted more. He wanted to watch her come.
Fingers slick with her, he moved against her, keeping rhythm with the rocking of her hips and the tightening of her body in anticipation. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping his way up to her ear, taking note of each time her breath caught, every barely perceptible sigh escaping her lips, and exactly how tight her grip on the sink became as her body moved closer and closer to that edge. And when he circled her clit again with two fingers, pressing with just enough pressure to make her bite down on her full bottom lip, she collapsed back against him.
Reaching behind her, she slid her hands between them, gripping his hard cock through his jeans. His entire body stiffened, and he let out a desperate hiss, the quiet sound booming in the otherwise silent bathroom. His gaze locked with hers in the mirror. She tugged her lip between her teeth and shot him a challenging, teasing look as she squeezed him tight.
Fuck. That’s how she wanted to do this? Two could play at that.
He increased the speed of his fingers, sliding through her wet folds and circling her swollen clit, getting her right to the edge and pulling back. By the time he stopped a third time, a flush stained her cheeks and she had a wild, desperate look in her eyes. Before he knew what she was about, she turned so she was facing him and she was unzipping his fly. His jeans were halfway down his thighs before his brain could catch up, and by the time it did, it was too late. He yanked his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a condom. While he rolled it on, Hadley turned back around and placed her hands on the sink again. What an inviting sight. If there was anything that could tear him away from watching her in the mirror, it was seeing his hands gripping her hips as he lined himself up. Sliding inside her, he ground his molars together, desperate to keep it together longer than a few short thrusts.
He would have stayed still inside her for longer if he could have, but she was too tight, too warm, too fucking perfect. He had to move. Thrusting forward, he sank into her before pulling back and doing it again and again. There weren’t any words, but they didn’t need any. She met him halfway on each advance, and when he reached around in front of her and dragged his finger over her clit, she responded by gripping him so tight, he nearly came on the spot.