Too Long: Hayes Brothers Book 6

“WILL YOU PLEASE TELL ME THE WHOLE STORY or am I supposed to let my imagination run?” I ask as we settle on the mass of blankets and pillows spread by the pool.

Addie lays on her side, knees curled in, one arm supporting her head. The purple glow of Serenity’s lighting illuminates her skin, her long eyelashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks.

“There’s not much to tell,” she admits. “Grant’s your age. He was twenty-one when we started dating. I’m sure you remember what it’s like to be twenty-one. There’s one thing men that age are particularly interested in.”

I sit up. “You were sixteen…”

“Technically, I was still fifteen. Three months shy of my sixteenth birthday.” She takes a slow swig of her beer, eyes unfocused, like she’s traveling back in time.

“Did he…? Fuck, did he force himself on you? He was an adult, Addie, that’s—”

“Wrong?” she supplies. “Inappropriate?”

“Illegal.”

“Underage drinking is illegal, too, but everyone does it. Are you saying you waited until you were eighteen to have sex?”

“No, but it was consensual between two minors. I never touched an underaged girl after I was legally an adult, however slight the age difference.”

She smiles, drumming her fingers on the neck of the bottle. “Not everyone’s so principled. Grant sure wasn’t. He had no issue with the age difference.”

My palms start sweating. Unspoken scenarios flood my mind, spreading like a drop of ink in water.

If he hurt her… if he forced himself on her… he’s dead fucking meat, I swear.

It’s hard to keep the questions on the tip of my tongue from spilling over. The only reason I haven’t asked yet is the contemplative look on her pretty face. If anything did happen, talking about it won’t be easy, especially with someone she only met a few days ago, so I let her get the words out at her own pace.

She rolls onto her stomach, pushing herself up on her elbows. “I was very immature for my age. Naïve. Most of my friends lost their V-cards before they turned fifteen.”

“There’s nothing immature or naïve about waiting until you are ready, Addie. It’s more mature than giving in to peer pressure.”

“I guess… To cut a long story short, Grant was twenty-one and I refused to have sex, so… you can probably guess the rest.”

My pulse hammers away, my muscles seizing. Jesus… I’ll break his fucking hands first. It doesn’t matter how long ago this happened or how okay Addie seems. Grant’s getting the kicking of his life. I set the bottle aside, pumping my fists, fury engulfing my mind.

Staring at her bottle, oblivious to the change in atmosphere, Addie resumes her story. “I saw the signs, but I was so fascinated that he actually looked at me I ignored them all. I was scrawny back then. No shape, no confidence… an ugly duckling.” She sighs, taking another long sip of beer. “When I caught him red-handed, there was no pretending. Though he did try the it’s not what it looks like line.”

“Jesus…” I grunt, the knots in my muscles slackening a little. “Fuck, Addie, you should’ve led with that. I had way worse in my head just now, and very detailed ideas on how I’d disembowel the fucker.”

She looks up with an adorable frown, then her eyes grow wider once she realizes what she’d unintentionally implied. “Oh God. I’m sorry. No, he didn’t do that. He never hurt me. He was pushy, but always understood no. He’s just a cheating swine.”

“Does your mom know about this?”

Addie nods, sadness coating her next words. “Yeah, she does. She claims he was a kid and he’s changed.”

He wasn’t a kid. He was an adult perfectly capable of keeping his dick on a leash. Conor was twenty-one when he met Vee. Cody was twenty-two when he found Blair, both of them got married and are still going strong. Age isn’t an excuse. It doesn’t define a person. Their actions do. Cheating on a sixteen-year-old girl because she won’t put out is fucking low.

Cheating is always fucking low.

To this day, I still haven’t fully forgiven my father for cheating on Mom all those years ago. She did, but I don’t think I ever will. I have six brothers and none of them have ever cheated. It’s not that fucking difficult.

“What did he say when you caught him?”

She laughs softly, the sound so genuine my heart stutters with a weird pirouette. “Apart from it’s not what it looks like, he said he only loved and wanted me, but he had needs. He swore he’d stop once I was ready for sex.”

“How very nice of him.”

“That’s what I said!” She laughs harder. “He begged me for weeks before giving up. I don’t know what deal he struck with my mother to make her so adamant I marry him, but she invited him to my eighteenth birthday party and he showed up with a ring.”

“Please tell me you shot down his proposal.”

“In front of almost two hundred unsuspecting guests.” She beams, handing me her empty bottle. “Then again, and again, and again… I’ve lost track at this point, but we must be at half a dozen rejected proposals by now.”

She goes on, listing every occasion when Grant popped the question, while we wait for the food. The appetizers arrive first; she laughs some more at the cringe on my face and I catch myself thinking I found a new favorite sound. Who thinks shit like this after four days?

Addie ordered traditional English cuisine since, obviously, I’m such a fan…

We spend over an hour eating, talking, getting to know each other better, and trying to guess what tomorrow’s task is. The conversation flows, no awkward silences, or uncomfortable topics. I lap up every word she speaks.

There’s a lingering curiosity around her. Like there’s a question right on the tip of her tongue but she keeps changing her mind about asking it.

I’m pretty sure I know what she wants to know. If she asks, I’ll tell her, but I won’t volunteer the story.

“What did you enjoy most so far?” Addie asks when the waiter clears our plates. “Don’t tell me it was all bad.”

I rearrange a few cushions so I can comfortably rest my head. “Not all of it. Just most of it. Cottage pie was alright, but that soup… be glad it’s staying down.”

“You only had a spoonful!”

“More than enough.” I wash the memory of the pea and ham soup down with beer. “So what’s for dessert?”

She pinches her lips, clearly amused. “Spotted dick.”

While we were eating, she went through a few other dishes she’d been tempted to make me try before she settled on cottage pie and that godawful pea disaster. The runners-up included cock-a-leekie soup, bangers and mash, toad in the hole, and my personal favorite: knickerbocker glory.

“Who the hell came up with that name?” I ask, raking my hair back. “It sounds like a symptom… Well, I didn’t have any condoms, doc. She said she’s clean, but I think she was lying because look at my spotted dick!”

Addie laughs so hard she tears up. “It’s delicious, I promise.”

“I think my gay brother would disagree.”

She whacks my shoulder, still laughing. Fuck, I love that sound. I love when her cheeks pink up and she’s this carefree.

It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower not to lean over and taste her sweet lips. I’ve wanted to kiss her a million times, but it doesn’t feel right while we’re here, pretending. When I kiss her, I don’t want her thinking I did it for show.

How I’ll survive five more days is anyone’s guess.

She calms down, but once the waiter arrives, proudly announcing “Spotted dick, as requested” she loses it again as he places two plates before us.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Addie asks between big bites. “Try it. It’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh come on! Don’t be such a melt. Just one piece.” She holds out a forkful, apparently trying to feed me. “Open up.”

Pressing the bottle to my lips, I shake my head.

Pointless. I should know by now that Addie doesn’t let things go without a fight. She rises to her knees, half crawling the short distance between us.

Jesus… she’s trying to kill me. Every move she makes is ridiculously titillating. Choreographed to arouse. I’m showering three times a day, shooting my load on the tiles like a sex-crazed teen because of this girl.

“Just one bite,” she pleads. “You can spit it out if you don’t like it.” Seeing my single brow raise, she slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes full of giggles. “You’re impossible!”

“Me? Who’s been talking about cock-a-leekie soups and ordering spotted dicks?”

“I promise I’ll stop if you try it.” She shoves the fork closer, using the other hand to wrestle the bottle out of my grasp. “Just one taste. Come on, please. It’s sweet, soft, and—”

“Soft is good? Since when?”

She whacks my chest when I laugh. Her patience gone, she pushes me onto my back. I may have let her… who in their right mind wouldn’t? Having her straddle me isn’t something I’ll willingly pass up.

She moves my hands to my stomach and traps them under her body, most of the dessert now fallen from the fork.

“Try it.”

I part my lips, letting her drop the spotted dick in my mouth. “Not bad,” I admit.

“Not bad?! It’s gorgeous!”

“You’re gorgeous,” I say before I can stop myself.

The laughter in Addie’s eyes dims, replaced by an intimate, quiet uncertainty. The atmosphere shifts, teeming with want. Her pupils grow darker. Juicy, bitable lips fall apart to let out a shaky breath. I swear that pouty mouth will be the death of me.

The urge to grip her neck and pull her into a kiss overwhelms me. I’m running out of reasons not to, and when she leans over me, inviting just that, I flip her onto her back, pinning her beneath me.

A soft little noise hits my ears when I grip her wrists, maneuvering her hands above her head. My resolve hangs by a thread. She’s so… willing. Pliant, eager.

Arousal paints her flushed face, eyes big and round as she peers up at me, chest rising and falling faster each second. I bet if I slipped my fingers under the hem of her dress, I’d find warm, soaked lace.

She smells like peaches, sugar, and sex. A scent God designed to drive me out of my fucking mind.

If I kissed her, she wouldn’t push me away, I’m certain, but… as much as I want to cross that line, kiss her and fuck her senseless. I put that line there for a reason.

The intimacy of our predicament and a couple of drinks are responsible for the horny gleam in her eyes. God, why is she always under the influence when she’s willing? I won’t take advantage of that no matter how thick the sexual tension.

Right now, we both want the cards to fall where they may, but she’d regret it tomorrow, and regret is the last thing I want her to feel after a night with me.

“Deep breath, Addie,” I say, marshaling the desire running rampant inside my every cell. A shadow of confusion flits across her face, but she draws a steady, deep breath. I follow suit, our chests rising together. “Good, one more.”

Her eyes shift to where the swell of her beautiful, full breasts, hidden under her summer dress, brushes against my pecs. A blush of embarrassment and lingering arousal fills her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I just thought…” She bites her cheek, then fills her lungs back up to the brim. “Never mind. I understand.” Bracing both hands against my shoulders, she pushes me away.

Or tries, but I don’t budge.

“What do you understand, Addie?”

She turns her head, refusing to answer, but her eyes snap back to mine at the thud thud of approaching footsteps.

“Grant,” she mouths, her face falling further. “Shit…”

I don’t like the swift change from blissfully happy to quiet and reserved. More than that, I don’t like that cryptic I understand.

“Stop shaking me off,” I whisper. “Stage face on.”

With a tiny nod, she blinks twice, then gets in character while I grab some spotted dick to feed her.

“Ahem…” A voice—Grant’s voice—draws our attention, his heavy footfalls halting nearby. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Ignoring the feeling of holes being burned in the back of my head, I press a kiss to Addie’s forehead before peeling myself off her. “Next time don’t interrupt. Then you won’t have to apologize.”

“Right…” He scratches the back of his neck. “Ben thought you should join us upstairs. Amara’s drawing teams for tomorrow’s task. Too bad you’re not available, pumpkin.”

“Don’t call me that,” Addie clips, deliberately adjusting her dress. “We have phones. Ben could’ve called.”

“I was heading this way anyway. Need to grab my suitcase,” he explains, eyes roving her body. “Anyway, whenever you’re ready.”

Addie sighs, reluctantly rising to her feet. “I suppose we should join them, at least for a little while.”

No. What we should do is talk. What the hell did she mean by I understand? Unfortunately, the itinerary isn’t mine to decide.

Grant forgets the luggage he was fetching from the helicopter as we fall into step. He boasts about his work, and how he could barely claw a few days off because he’s so fucking busy managing his empire.

“Addie didn’t let you answer before,” he says, matching my strides. “What do you do? I mean, unless it’s a touchy subject then forget I asked.”

And to think this is what Nico could’ve become when he made bank. I’d have drowned him in his own fucking pool.

“Business management,” I say. “Bars, restaurants, clubs.”

His eyebrows pull together, cogs whirring in his brain. I guess he can’t belittle this, so he changes tactics. “I don’t mean to sound rude, man, but you should probably stash the beer out of sight if you want to fit in with the crowd. It’s considered tacky to chug from the bottle around here.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I say and make a show of chugging from the bottle. “I couldn’t care less about fitting in.”

“Clearly.”

Addie tenses like a bow. She’s so fucking sexy when she slips into combat mode. I can tell she’s not far off lashing out, so I send her a message by squeezing her hand.

Grant could waste a week coming up with new ways to annoy me, but he won’t put a dent in the shell I’ve built around me since the accident.

Looking death in the eye puts life in perspective.

Besides… you can’t win against a stupid person. They drag you down to their level and destroy you with experience.

As we approach the main deck, the bass grows louder. There’s definitely a party in full swing. “Vicious” by Bohnes blasts from speakers we can’t see but can definitely hear, and Addie bounces beside me to the rhythm. Other than her parents and a couple of their friends, everyone’s dancing.

I’m about to lead Addie onto the makeshift dance floor when her father approaches, with a cheerful, “There you are!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weston, I was just—” Grant starts.

Henry’s not addressing him, though. And he makes it known by blatantly cutting him off mid-sentence. “I thought you’d stood me up. Ready for a quick game?”

“No way, Dad.” Addie pulls me behind her. “You stole him for two hours last night.”

“Just one game, we need a fourth.”

“I don’t mind standing in if Colt’s not available,” Grant cuts in, accidentally stumbling into the bucket of beer I’m holding to draw Henry’s attention.

What does he think will happen? I’ll get tossed overboard for drinking beer? Like I said: stupid.

Henry snags a bottle from my bucket, pops the cap and takes a long pull. “It’s been a while since I had a cold one. Brings back memories. So, how about it? One game.”

“One,” Addie denotes, holding one finger up for emphasis. “If you’re not back in half an hour I’ll come looking.”

Drawing her into my side, I let my eyes roam down her figure, pausing where her dress hugs her curves, then plant a tender kiss on her head. “Behave, baby. No dancing on tables in that outfit.”

“Pinky promise.”

Grant’s attention flits between Addie and me, a sneer curling his lip. The sight of him watching her with such entitlement lights a slow, burning anger in my chest. The fucking audacity.

The petty side of me pulls Addie even closer and whispers, “Don’t let Grant too close. He’ll lose his teeth if he lays a finger on you.”

Before she can say anything, I turn away to join her father, leaving her flustered and Grant fuming.

Colt: 1.

Grant: 0.

I’m on a roll.