Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

My fingers fumble with the smooth fabric of the tie. I clumsily attempt to pull the wide end up over the narrow. The material falls from my fingers. I sigh. This feels all too reminiscent of prom, and feeling like a teenager has me worried about the success of this evening.

I look at my reflection and wonder if I really need the tie. My charcoal-colored dress pants and crisp white button-down look nice enough. I wasn’t going to wear my watch, but I can’t stand the sleeves buttoned at my wrists, so the watch adds a little something to the blank space of my forearms.

Running a hand through my hair, I keep half an eye on the door. Haley exited her room a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen her yet. That’s probably why I can’t tie a motherfucking tie any better than a ten-year-old boy.

A knock sounds softly through the room. I spin on my heel and see Haley standing in the doorway. I nearly fall over.

Her hair is half-up, pieces of her jet-black tresses falling all over the place in loose waves. A deep-blue dress covers her body. The neckline is wide, the fabric kissing the rounds of her breasts in a subdued way. There’s a little tie at her waist that showcases the narrow circumference of her body. The bottom section comes together in the front like two separate pieces of fabric, leaving a little slit as a tease to men like me.

And if I have to fight them all tonight, every damn one of them, I will.

Mark my motherfucking words.

“Haley,” I say carefully.

“Hi,” she says back. She plays with a strand of hair, her doe eyes drawing me in.

I mosey her way. It’s mostly to give myself time not to overreact. If this were any other woman, I’d have the dress off her already and be between her thighs.

But it’s not.

This is Haley. She’s more than that—more than a quick lay. But how much more, I don’t know. I don’t know if I even want to know.

She twirls the lock of hair around her finger, her lips forming a perfect bud. My body screams, my restraint slipping as I get close.

There’s a slight shift in her posture, her body leaning my way. A hunger skims the surface of her gaze and cuts me like a knife.

I force a swallow as I approach her. “I have bad news,” I say.

She drops the strand of hair. “What’s wrong?”

Stepping in front of her, my body boxing hers against the wall, I breathe in her sweet, natural scent. “I’m going to break some rules right now.”

She gasps softly as she looks up. “Trevor . . .”

“First,” I say before she can object without hearing me out, “you look absolutely stunning. Just fucking amazing, Haley.” The words come out soft with a grit that makes her cheeks flush. “I don’t care whether I’m supposed to say it or not, but wow.”

She giggles, lifting her chin. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“I’m not trying to do anything but tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

I step closer. Her chest rises and falls in deep movements. I can hear her breath flowing past her muted-pink lips. Each intake of air draws my attention to her mouth, and I want to capture it with my own.

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her tongue darts across her bottom lip, leaving a coat of wetness behind.

I can’t take it.

“Also,” I say, my voice ragged, “I’m going to touch you.”

Her eyes widen, her breathing going uneven as I bring my hand to her face. I cup her cheek in my palm, her skin smooth and warm. She looks me in the eye, holding my gaze, before nestling her face in my hand. She grabs my wrist, pinning my hand to her with locked fingers.

My blood soars through my veins. All my senses are overwhelmed. I can barely breathe, let alone filter all the warning lights going off in my brain.

I inch closer until her back is against the wall. My head is screaming with directions, my pulse strumming in preparation for the explosion it hopes is coming.

My legs straddle hers, one on either side, as I lower my lips toward her. She rises up to meet me.

My hand goes to the side of her neck, the edges of my tie flirting with the top of her cleavage. I can barely think anything rational as my cock stretches the fabric of my pants.

Knock, knock!

“Motherfucker,” I growl, much to her amusement.

Haley sags against the wall. Her shoulders drop as the adrenaline of the minute before disappears.

She laughs, straightening out her dress as I take a step back. “Saved by the bell . . . hop.”

I’m too irritated to comment on her joke. Nothing about this is funny to me.

“Sorry,” she says, hiding a smile. “I just . . . That’s probably for the best, right?”