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I can’t answer him. Forcing out a laugh, I just say, “Don’t make me say it.”
He takes a step toward me, closing the space between us again, and my entire body reacts. It’s like my nerves are all standing at attention, just waiting to be touched by him again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “Don’t make you say what?”
I give him a pleading stare.
“Don’t make you say that you want me to carry you to that bed in there and fuck you until you forget about everything that’s happened?” He’s waiting for me to answer, but my mouth has gone dry, and I don’t have any words to give him. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and lets his fingers trail down my neck, giving me goosebumps. “Because I could,” he finally says. “I could make you forget. I could make you call out my name over and over again until it’s the only name you know.”
I can’t breathe. His words alone make my legs fall open a little more, inviting him closer. Somehow I manage to get out, “But you don’t want to?”
He lets out a short laugh, running his hand under my dress and up my leg, his thumb skimming my inner thigh. “Oh, no. I’ve thought about it, and I definitely want to.”
Bracing myself for the worst, I utter, “But?”
Just when his thumb threatens to graze over the thin, wet cotton of my underwear, he pulls his hand back and gently hooks his finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest and my entire body aches for him as I wait for what he has to say.
He stares at me for a long moment, his pupils swallowing the blue of his eyes. Caressing the side of my cheek with his thumb as he holds me in place, his gaze dips to my mouth again.
I need him to kiss me.
But instead, he locks eyes with me and simply says, “But I’m not your rebound.” He steps away and runs a hand through his hair.
“But—”
He doesn’t let me speak before saying, “Goodnight, Claire. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And just like that, Aiden turns and walks out of the kitchen, lightly pounding his fist against the countertop on his way out.
The door opens, then closes.
That’s it. He’s gone.
And I’m left sitting on the kitchen island straddling nothing.
45
Aiden
Walking back to the tiki bar is the last thing I want to do right now, but I can’t stay with Claire. I don’t trust us not to do something we’d both regret. Ethan’s place isn’t far from here, but I don’t have a key, so I head back to the bar without much of a choice.
My body buzzes with the thought of kissing her. Her tongue was still sweet with sangria, and it’s taking all my self-control not to go back for another taste.
Fuck me.
My imagination runs wild with what might have happened if I stayed, and none of it makes this walk any easier. Claire Ackerman is a great kisser, and being that close to her made me feel more alive than I’ve felt in over a year.
But she’s drunk, and she’s only been single for a grand total of 48 hours—neither of which is a green light for me. Maybe if she hadn’t downed four sangrias, I would have let it go further...or maybe if she didn’t just go through a life-altering breakup, the fact that she was drunk wouldn’t have been as big of a deal.
But the combination?
It had red flags all over it, and as selfish as I am, I’m not stupid. Doing anything with Claire is a bad idea. Chances are she’s still hung up on her ex, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like her too much to just be the guy that helps her get over him.
So, here I am. Walking alone, back to a bar I don’t want to go to, to see the guy who just had his hands all over the same girl I wish I still had my hands all over.
This is bullshit.
Part of me was hoping they wouldn’t still be here, but they are. They’re sitting on the same couch where I was babysitting Lauren. She’s nowhere to be seen, though. Thank god.
They’re all staring at me when I take a seat.
After enough awkward silence, I mutter, “The fuck are you all looking at?”
