“Your parents are sort of incredible.” Hayden unpacked her suitcase, stashing her clothes in the dresser in the guest bedroom.
On that count, Tate had to agree. The weirdest part about meeting them was that they no longer felt like strangers. They’d discussed Spright Island, Jane and George both eager to hear of Tate’s success with the community. Jane abashedly admitted that she’d “Googled it” and was “quite impressed.”
He’d always been proud of the work he’d done there. The wellness community was his passion, but also his legacy. He’d never thought much about having a family of his own, always focusing instead on work. Claire had been equally focused on her career and stated she’d never wanted to have children. After having met the members of his actual family tree, though, Tate had briefly entertained the idea of having a family of his own. He supposed that was inevitable considering the circumstances.
Hayden hid her suitcase in the closet, yawning as she shut the bedroom door. He wondered if she wanted children. She’d never mentioned it before, but given the hints that her family was rife with conflict, maybe she didn’t. It wasn’t the kind of discussion two people having a day-to-day affair would have, but he couldn’t stop the vision of a little boy with dark hair and his blue eyes. Or twins.
“Jesus.” He pulled a hand down his face to staunch the thoughts.
“I know. I’m tired, too.” Hayden yawned again and he was glad she’d assumed he was tired rather than considering her potentially bearing his children. Maybe he could blame fatigue on his thoughts. They certainly weren’t par for course.
Is any of this?
“Why don’t you stay up here and rest.” The guest room was hidden away at the back of the upstairs hallway, and he knew his parents wouldn’t mind Hayden not showing for cocktail hour. Besides, it’d been George that had had invited Tate and Reid for brandy. Pregnant Drew had begged off to bed and his mother told Tate she’d happily join Hayden for a nip, but only if Hayden wasn’t too tired. “Jane meant what she said when she told you to do what you like.”
Hayden tilted her head and studied him, a spark of interest in her eyes despite the fatigue. “Do you think you’ll ever be comfortable calling her Mom? Or Mum, as Reid calls her?”
Tate sucked in a breath. He guessed it wasn’t that alarming to be thinking of having a family. He was surrounded by family and piecing the relationships together as best he could.
“Maybe someday,” he said, but oddly that felt like a betrayal to his adoptive mother.
“You’re handling this really well.” Hayden palmed his cheek.
Placing his hands on her hips, Tate pulled her closer, and she draped her forearms over his shoulders. She fit there, in his embrace. Claire hadn’t fit in his arms like she was meant to be there—a detail he’d always overlooked. And now that he’d met George and Jane and Reid Singleton, he wondered if in hindsight he’d find that he never fit with his family in California, either.
“Deep thoughts?”
“How do you know where you belong? Is it with the people who are familiar, or the people who are related?”
“That’s a whopper, Tate Duncan,” She paused to consider. “I used to feel comfortable in chaos, but now I crave a stable environment. In your very unique case, I don’t think you’ll have to choose. You have room in your life for your adoptive parents and your birth parents, for Reid and Drew, and for your new niece or nephew when he or she is born.”
And you.
Pretending to be engaged to Hayden, pretending they had a future with “forever” implied, it wasn’t hard to picture her there during his brother’s wedding, the birth of a niece or nephew, or even a vacation to California to meet his adoptive parents.
That, too, felt dangerous, but this was also a safe place to consider the possibility of what life would be like if he and Hayden were truly engaged.
How it’d be expected to linger in their shared bedroom...
“How tired are you?” Tate lowered his mouth to her neck.
“Mmm,” she purred.
He took to her lips for a brief kiss that didn’t stay that way. Sliding his tongue along hers was the foolproof cure for jet lag. He backed her toward the bed.
“Tate,” she whispered, and he was sure “we can’t” would follow.
“Don’t tell me to stop.” He needed her. Needed to ground himself in the only reality that made sense right now. If there was one component that wasn’t pretend, it was their explosive chemistry.
She raised and lowered one eyebrow, suddenly alert. “I was going to say brandy with George and Reid can wait.”
“Hell, yes, it can.”
She’d dressed for dinner in a long-sleeved black shirt made from material that held the slightest shimmer. He slipped a hand beneath it and along her smooth skin.
She tipped her head back, her dark hair falling over her shoulders while his hands explored her full breasts over the smooth cups of her bra.
Her moan of approval spurred him on. And like that first time he was with her, he didn’t want to rush. Brandy with his family be damned.
He made short work of stripping her of her shirt and bra. Cupping her breasts, he thumbed her nipples and then kissed the tips of each. Her hands explored his hair, wrecking it. He took that as encouragement and continued circling one nipple with his tongue.
He unbuttoned her dark pants, slipping his hand past the waistband of her panties to tease her smooth folds. Spreading that wetness over her clit, he guided his fingers back and forth, until Hayden’s hands clutched his shoulders and her moans elevated to bleats of pleasure.
Yanking his head from her chest, she kissed him with ferocity, none of her earlier fatigue present. He tenderly stroked her into her first orgasm. Watching her mouth round in pleasure and her beautiful face contort wouldn’t be a sight he’d soon forget.
She shuddered in his arms, and he supported her weight, bracing her waist and kissing a trail from her jaw to her ear.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you do that,” he rasped. “This time, do it again, but with me inside you.”
“Sounds good to me.” She smiled. A challenge.
He lifted her into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced, stifling her laugh with a hand over her lips while he tugged off her heeled shoes and pants.
She daintily scooted back, folding her long legs to one side and looking up at him sexily. She was like every wet dream he’d ever had, only better—because she was here. She was real. And he was really going to enjoy coaxing forth her next orgasm.
Tate took off his shirt, and Hayden’s dark eyes flared. That she looked at him the way he looked at her—like she couldn’t believe how damn lucky she was to have him naked—hardened his erection and sharpened his desire.
He finished undressing and climbed over her, tickling her lips with a series of gentle kisses before trailing his mouth down her neck to her breasts. He made a pit stop at each one—he’d never be able to resist the lure of her perfect nipples—and then made himself comfortable between her thighs.
Ruined.
Tate had ruined her for anyone else. Which was alarming, since she didn’t spend much time considering a man permanently being around for sex, or dating, or...anything, really.
But, she wasn’t above having fun.
Which was what this is, she reminded herself sternly.
George and Jane, and even Reid and Drew who knew the engagement was for show, had treated Hayden like family tonight. There was a part of her that had basked in that attention. At the idea of being a part of a family that genuinely seemed to want for each other, not from each other.
But Tate wasn’t a permanent fixture. This was a fairy tale. One where she’d been whisked to London by a wealthy prince—one who really knew how to use his freaking tongue.
The sound of the condom wrapper being torn open jolted her out of her post-orgasmic bliss.
“Wait!”
Tate looked almost alarmed at her outburst, which was sort of funny.
“Let’s hold off on this part.” She took the condom from his hand. “There’s something I wanted to do first.”
Shoving him onto his back, she pressed a kiss to first one pectoral and then the other and positioned herself over him. As she kissed her way down his torso, Tate grew reverently silent. She knew he’d figured out her intentions the moment he scooped her hair into his hands and watched her work.
And oh, did she work.
She held his shaft at the base, flicking him a sultry glance while licking the tip of his cock. His mouth dropped open, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief.
He smelled of soap from their earlier—and sadly, separate—showers, and the musky smell that was his and his alone.
She alternated with teasing licks and loving kisses and then swallowed him whole, tickling his balls while the air sawed out of his lungs in uneven gasps.
Moments before she would have swallowed his release, he tugged her hair, still wrapped in his fists. “Hayden.”
When she didn’t stop right away, his voice grew gruff, more demanding, “Hayden.”
She let him go with a soft pop, licking her lips. “Fine. I’ll stop, but only bec—”
Without warning, he flipped her to her back and was over her in an instant. She yelped in surprise then slapped a hand over her mouth. The house was large, but not that large. No need to broadcast that she was upstairs shagging the Singletons’ newfound son.
“Condom,” she reminded him as he nudged her entrance with his very hard member.
“Right. Of course.” He blinked once, then twice like he was trying to bring his brain back online. He rolled on the condom in record time and, before her next breath, entered her in one long, slow slide. Buried to the root, he paused to blow out a careful, measured breath.
“You okay, COO of Gorgeous Inc.?” She feathered his hair from his forehead, and he offered a narrow-eyed glare. “COO? Founder? Which do you prefer?”
“I prefer—” he slid out and then in again “—for you to call me by my name. Repeatedly. And with growing enthusiasm,” he added as he continued moving.
“Tate.” He seemed to gain strength as she repeated his name over and over. As if he’d needed, more than anything, that reminder of who he was. As if hearing his name had anchored him.
“Come for me, Hayden.” He lifted her calf, and she stretched her leg to rest it easily on his shoulder. The angle made it easier for him to hit her G-spot, which he had a knack for finding.
“There,” she said with a gasp. Damn, he was good.
“One more for me. Then I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.”
He grinned, and she returned it. Her smile fell when she felt the telltale building of a showstopper of an orgasm.
“Tate.” She continued worshipping as she gripped the blankets with kneading fists. Her nipples pebbled in the cool bedroom air even as sweat beaded his forehead from his workout.
The fourth stroke was the charm.
She dissolved, the release hitting her so hard she squeezed her eyes shut to absorb the impact. He wasn’t far behind her, growling his release. He came to a jerky stop moments before collapsing on top of her.
His weight pressed her into the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat sticking his chest to hers. “By far my favorite work out is having sex with you.”
“Agreed.” She swept a hand through his hair and kissed his temple.
He left to deal with the condom, but by the time he returned, her eyes refused to stay open. She was vaguely aware of the sound of him pulling on his clothes, barely awake when he feathered a kiss on her cheek.
The last words she remembered was his whispered promise of, “Rest up. You’ll need your strength for later.”