17.

☆☆SUMMER’S POV☆☆

My imagination had almost wounded me. How could I have dreamt that Hayden was here, talking and laughing with my dad?

Calling him by his first name, Edward. Edward? Ha ha. What an awful dream. He called him Edward. I mean, seriously?

What a nightmare.

I groaned and dragged myself up, throat dry, head foggy like I’d just walked through a steam room. The light spilling through the window was vague—early morning, maybe late afternoon? I had no clue. I must’ve slept for hours.

I was in my bed. My blanket. My room. Oh, the comfort. Everything looked normal—until I saw him. Hayden Dylan, in the corner, lounging like a king.

He was sitting on my reading chair, legs crossed, elbow draped casually over the desk. Reading one of my novels.

Was I hallucinating? No. No, I wasn’t. Then it hit me: it wasn't a dream. Hayden had really been downstairs, in the living room moments ago, laughing with my dad. I hadn't fallen asleep. Oh dear God—I had fainted.

Shoot me now. Shoot me now before it gets any worse than this.

What could possibly be worse than fainting in front of your family because the boy you’re in love with almost touched your hand—in front of them? If there was a goddess of humiliation, I’d just made her proud.

And then—his voice. It drifted to me like a sweet melody. 

“Rosa felt his gaze slide over her skin like hot syrup. Carlos undressed her with his eyes. Slow. Too slow…”

Oh God no. I blinked. Hard. My body stiffened.

“Her breath caught as his fingers danced along the hem of her silk nightdress. She was wet. Too wet...for him.”

I wanted to die. Hayden glanced up at me, eyes glittering with pure mischief—ocean blue and evil. Then he continued:

“Her nipples were aching with need, and Carlos attended to them with the warmth of his mouth. Sucking, as if his life depended on her beautiful breasts. He tormented her, giving them a soft pull and tug…”

He stopped and looked at me. He actually looked me dead in the eye. I was going to melt into the mattress and disappear. That would be nice. Evaporate, dissolve—something. Anything other than this.

His voice was low, amused, as he quoted aloud again: “Cum for me, Rosie, Carlos said, his tongue deep in her lady…”

He paused, looked up again and caught my eyes. I gulped down on nothing, my heart racing.

“...Bits,” he completed. “His tongue deep in her ladybits. Didn't know you were into this kinda stuff, Stranger. Pretty interesting.” He tilted his head, squinting his eyes. “You fascinate me.”

“...”

“I was thinking of giving you a new nickname,” he added, dropping the book on my desk like it was a love letter. “Still working on it, though. You still look like a stranger to me sometimes, so I’ll stick with ‘Stranger’ for now.”

I tried to sit up. My muscles ached.

“What are you—how did you—”

He lifted the book and wagged it playfully. 

“You left it on your nightstand. Page 147. You dog-eared it.” His lips quirked. “Right before the steamy part.”

My face burned. I’d been reading that book before Agnes came over yesterday. It was supposed to be fun, not… weaponized. I wanted to scream. Or jump out the window. Or maybe punch him in the throat.

“Give it back.”

“You sure? I was enjoying it. Very enlightening. Especially this part…” He flipped a page, eyes skimming it, then recited: “She liked being watched by him. Maybe even owned.”

He shut the book with a soft thud, his gaze locking with mine. No smirk this time.

“Relatable?”

I felt like the room was spinning again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered. “What are you doing in my room? What are you doing in my house?”

He shrugged. “I came to see you to apologize about last night. Well, I’m in your room now because someone had to carry your unconscious body up the stairs after you fainted. Your dad wanted to call 911, but I told him you were just ‘overwhelmed’ from seeing me again.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I snapped—too fast. Too defensive. “I just haven’t eaten anything good since yesterday. That’s why I passed out.”

He stood slowly, placing the book down on my nightstand with too much care. Then he walked to my bed—not away, to—and leaned down so close I could smell him. 

I shrank back instinctively, but he leaned in closer, and suddenly all I could smell was cedar, mint, and something sharp underneath. Danger, maybe. Bad decisions. Whatever it was, it smelled like him.  And I loved it.

“I like this room,” he murmured. “Because it’s yours, and I like being here with you.”

I could barely breathe.

“And Summer?” he whispered.

I didn’t answer.

He smiled. A soft, cruel smile. “Next time you leave your window open,” he said, brushing a knuckle against my jaw, “at least make the bed.”

Then he nudged beside me. I followed his gaze—and my soul left my body. My black bra was sitting pretty beside us. Just lying there like it had front-row tickets to my humiliation.

I almost fainted all over again from how embarrassed I was. And wait—did Hayden get into my house through my window?

I quickly tossed the bra under my pillow. He chuckled. The door opened and my dad stepped in, carrying a tray of scrambled eggs, toast, tea, two green apples, and a glass of water.

“Bunny, you’re awake,” he said. “Made you breakfast.”

He was already dressed. I could tell he was ready and about to leave for work. And I was just sitting there, acting like the most chaotic person wasn’t sitting inches away from me in my bed.

I was flushed, mortified, and silently praying the ground would open up and swallow me whole. My dad set the breakfast tray down gently, his eyes scanning my pale face with concern.

“You gave me quite the scare, Bunny,” he said. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I have to get to work now. I’ll be back home before eight, so we can order a large pizza.”

“I almost forgot. It’s movie night,” I said happily.

My dad smiled and kissed the top of my head. “Eat, have fun, and take good care of yourself, and your brother.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Thank Hayden,” he said. “He carried you up here and waited for you to wake up while I made breakfast.”

My eyes darted to Hayden. And he flashed me that devilish angel smile. My dad patted his back.

“Thank you, son.”

“It’s my pleasure, Edward,” Hayden replied smoothly. “Taking care of Summer always comes naturally to me. Old habits, you know. I like tending to her needs.”

He smiled—polite, innocent—and his eyes flicked to me like he’s remembering things my father definitely shouldn’t ask about. My fingers clenched under the blanket.

My father only laughed nervously, completely unaware of the silent tension between Hayden and me. Then he said goodbye and exited the room.

Hayden turned to me, smiling from ear to ear. His voice dropped to a whisper,

“Now, where were we? Something about your needs…” 

He stepped close. Close enough that I could feel his heat. I fell back onto the bed, lying flat as he leaned over my small frame. His eyes locked with mine. Like he was seeing too much. Knowing too much. My heart thundered. My breath caught. He brushed his nose against mine, teasing.

“I want you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Right here. Right now.”

My fingers curled into the blanket, panic and want twisting inside me like vines.

Just then— A knock. I froze.

“Summer? I’m coming in.”

Jake? What the fuck? What was he doing here? My heart nearly stopped. He shouldn’t be here—I made that clear when I left him at the treehouse. 

The doorknob turned. Slowly. Hayden didn’t move. I wanted to jump out the window or something—anything!  Then the door creaked open. And Jake stepped inside.