Everyone Called Me His Girl, but He Said It Was Nothing novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: The Shop

Hayes didn't ask what I meant.

He looked at me for one long moment in the doorway, with the rain blowing in behind me.

Then he bent, picked up my father's toolbox, and set it inside the shop door.

He shut the door and turned the lock.

"You're freezing," he said.

"Then warm me up."

His eyes went dark.

"Upstairs."

The stairs were narrow and steep, and he went up behind me with one hand flat on my back.

The room at the top was one long space under a slanted roof, with a bed against the window and a lamp on the floor.

Rain ran down the glass in streaks.

I dropped my bag.

I peeled off my wet coat and let it fall, and he stood watching with his arms at his sides.

"Rhea," he said.

"Don't be careful with me."

"I wasn't going to be."

"Good."

I crossed the room and took the front of his shirt in both fists.

He was so tall that I had to go up on my toes.

I kissed him.

For half a second he didn't move.

Then he made a low sound in his chest and his hands came up and took my face.

He kissed me back.

It was hard and deep, and it tasted like coffee and rain.

I opened my mouth under his and pulled him down.

His hands slid into my wet hair and tightened.

I felt my back hit the wall beside the bed.

"God," he said against my mouth.

"I've been thinking about this since the diner."

"Then stop thinking."

I shoved my hands under his T-shirt and dragged it up his chest.

He broke the kiss long enough to yank it over his head.

He was broad and solid, with dark hair across his chest and a thick white scar along his ribs.

I put my palms flat on him.

His heart pounded against my hand.

"What happened here?" I said.

"A table saw."

"I was nineteen."

"Stupid."

"Very."

I leaned in and kissed the scar.

His breath went out of him in a rush, and his fingers closed on the back of my sweater.

"Take it off," I said.

He pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it.

My bra was plain and wet.

He looked at me, at my full breasts and my soft belly and the mole at my collarbone.

"Look at you," he said hoarsely.

"I'm looking," I said.

"Are you going to touch?"

He did.

He unhooked my bra with one hand, and when it fell he filled both hands with my breasts and brushed his thumbs over my nipples until I gasped.

They were hard and aching.

He bent and took one in his mouth.

I cried out and grabbed his hair.

His tongue circled and pulled, and heat rolled down through my belly and settled between my legs.

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