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He holds up a hand. “I took you on a date and wasn’t able to get you back to your car. I’ll call your Uber in the morning.” He says it in a way that assertively ends the conversation.
“Thank you,” I finally say with a soft smile.
I continue to give Aiden directions as we near my apartment. When he finally pulls into the complex parking lot, he parks in front of my building.
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he says, hopping out of the car.
I shoot him a shy smile as we make our way up the steps to my apartment door. We stand awkwardly for a few heartbeats, neither of us seemingly wanting to say goodbye. I glance at the time on my phone. It isn’t all that late. And I’ve had a wonderful time with him so far. Would it be weird to invite him inside?
“Do you want to see my apartment?” I finally blurt out.
He smiles. “See where Lilly Richards spends her evenings? I’d love to.”
I laugh, unlocking my door and stepping over the threshold. I flip the lights on, stepping aside so Aiden can enter and then closing the door behind him.
He walks farther in, looking around. The apartment is small. The main room constitutes as a living room and kitchen space with nice, large windows over the couch on the far wall. My bedroom and bathroom are off to the right through two doors.
Aiden quickly zeroes in on a painting on the wall. He approaches it, glancing over his shoulder at me. “You did this.” It isn’t really a question, more of a statement.
“How’d you know?” I laugh.
“It’s like your other ones at the foundation,” he says, turning back to it. “You use similar colors. Similar … ways of expressing things.”
I walk up beside him, looking at the painting as well. “I did it in college. It’s of the fields by my parents’ house where I grew up.”
Aiden cocks his head. “It’s beautiful.”
I can feel myself blushing, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “Thank you.”
We stand like that, side by side, our arms barely touching, for a few heavy minutes, silence hanging around us. I keep glancing sideways at him. At the sharp edges of his jawline, the five o’clock shadow on his skin, at his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
I feel that familiar longing I’d felt at the wedding. The desire for his hands to be all over me. To do what they’d done only a few nights ago.
Aiden turns to me as if feeling the air change between us. His eyes search mine—for what, I don’t know. Is he thinking the same thing I am? And as the tension between us grows—torn between right and wrong, desire and need—I do the only thing I can think of.
I span the distance between us, grab the collar of his shirt, and I kiss him.
He freezes, and for a split second I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. That I’ve misread the situation. That I’ve ruined everything.
But then his hands grip my upper arms, and he kisses me back. Hard. Desperate. As if he’s suffocating and I’m the only air in the room.
We stumble backward, nearly tripping over each other until my back hits the wall. I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His tongue swirls against mine as our kiss deepens.
His hands roam up, over my shoulders, my neck, and into my hair. His touch is gentle, sweet.
I breathe in the scent of him—cologne, sweat, and purely Aiden.
Then he pulls back, his gaze meeting mine, our faces inches apart, breathing heavily. There’s a question in those deep blue eyes.
“Lilly,” he breathes. “I want to make sure you’re okay with everything.”
I nod, staring up at him. “I’m … not ready for sex, but—I had to kiss you,” I whisper.
He nods. “We won’t do anything until you want to,” he declares. “What we did at the wedding—were you okay with that?” He searches my gaze genuinely.
I nod. I was.
He smiles, leaning down to plant a soft kiss right below my ear. “Let me make you feel good, Lilly,” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck.
