Page 2 of I’d Be Honored

Without warning, Hayley slid three fingers into her.

Amy’s lungs let out a burst of air as she breathed, “God, yes.” She arched her back, pressing her body against Hayley’s hand.

Hayley’s own center began to throb in response.

She slowly pumped her fingers in and out, sliding easily through Amy’s arousal. Her tongue traced a trail up the back of Amy’s neck, and Hayley watched as goosebumps rose to the surface.

“Harder, please. Fuck me,” Amy groaned. “Fuck me like Jake won’t.”

Hayley snorted softly and wrapped her left hand around the front of Amy’s neck, gripping firmly with her thumb and fingertips as she pulled their bodies flush. With her right hand, she drove deeper, harder, faster.

“Louder,” Hayley whispered from behind Amy’s ear.

She curled her fingers inside and was rewarded with a primal moan that fell from Amy’s lips.

“Holy shit,” Amy gasped, her knees buckling.

As Amy’s body began to shudder, Hayley gripped her neck tighter to stabilize her, the fingers on her right hand still moving deep within.

When Amy’s breathing finally began to slow, Hayley released her hold, withdrew her slick fingers, and took a steady step backward.

“Well, shit.” Amy’s knees wobbled as she turned, leaning against the kitchen island to steady herself. “I dare say this has been our best closing yet.”

Hayley didn’t look up as she smoothed down her ivory camisole and beige slacks with the back of her hand, making sure the pleat was still perfectly in place.

Once she was confident that she showed no trace of what had just taken place, Hayley slid the stack of paperwork toward Amy and pulled a black Montblanc pen from her purse. A gift from her father after her first sale, it was the only pen she trusted for her biggest closings.

As Amy finished signing her last name—her husband’s last name—on the final page, her fingers brushed Hayley’s wrist and lingered there. Too familiar. Too confident.

Hayley offered a tight, professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes, placing the keys to the penthouse on the counter, directly on top of the print Amy’s palm had left behind minutes before.

“You never cease to amaze me, Ms. Maddox.” Amy smirked, fluffing her loose curls where Hayley’s fingers had just been knotted.

“My office will send over the completed documents this afternoon,” Hayley stated, autopilot kicking back in. With a practiced ease, she swept her suit jacket on, slid the calfskin bag onto her forearm, and held Amy’s gaze with a victorious look. “Enjoy your new home.”

On the elevator ride down, Hayley caught a glimpse of her sharp jawline in the silvery reflection. She narrowed her eyes, not recognizing herself at first, then blinked the feeling away. On the first floor, an electronic ding rang out softly, and she wondered absentmindedly about when her commission would be deposited into her account.

——

The morning was still young when Hayley stepped out of the taxi, slid her Tom Ford sunglasses into place, and strode toward her second meeting—a ritual she’d kept every day since her freshman year of college at the University of Pennsylvania.

The door swung open, and the scent of roasted espresso enveloped her the moment she stepped inside. This particular café had been chosen as the perfect middle ground between her apartment in the West Village and Greenwich Village, where her best friend, Gemma, now lived with her fiancée. The two college-roommates-turned-lifelong-friends lived only a few blocks away from one another, but even Hayley could admit that the new distance felt lonely and unnerving at times.

“Good morning.” Hayley kissed her best friend’s cheek before settling into the chair across from her, careful not to wrinkle her slacks.

“Morning.” Gemma raised an eyebrow. She took a sip of Hayley’s triple-shot oat milk latte, then slid it across the table—a thirteen-year-old habit that Hayley had never bothered to question. “Nice hair.”

Hayley reached up reflexively, running her fingers through her long sleek bob, confirming that there was not a single strand out of place.

“Late night or early morning?” Gemma asked, not trying to hide her knowing grin.

A subtle, one-sided smile flickered across Hayley’s face. “Best way to start off the week.”

“And you’re wearing one of your Armani suits, which means…” Gemma scanned her face, then groaned. “Oh my God, seriously, Hayley?”

Hayley took a sip of her coffee, saying nothing.

Gemma leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “How many times are you going to sleep with that married woman?”