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Touch me.
Kiss me.
My demands almost fell past my lips, but I yanked the words back in because I didn’t dare break the spell.
Maybe it wasn’t a spell, I wondered, as my fingers curled, the tips of my nails digging slightly into the surface of his skin. Maybe this was me sticking my hand willingly into the fire, just to see if it would burn the way I imagined.
His whole body trembled when—with the slightest lift to my chin—my lips swept over his cheekbone. If he ever unleashed the full force of himself on me, I’d probably snap in half from the impact.
Aiden sank in, just an inch, his own forehead resting now on my bare shoulder. His exhale, heavy and hot, snaked down the gap in my shirt, and when it hit my breast, a sound escaped from the back of my throat.
His hand, still fisted on the bed, shot forward, and with a hard press of his hand on my good hip, my legs unfolded like he flipped a switch. He curled that big hand along my lower back, under my shirt, and tugged me forward on the bed. My hand slid the rest of the way up his arm, over his shoulder, and my fingers curled around the back of his neck.
And then nothing.
Our heads stayed just as they were—his pressed into my shoulder, mine tucked against his—like neither of us dared to move.
We’d both taken one step up to the invisible line because a touch could be ignored, but the second his lips hit mine, the second I knew what his tongue felt like slick and sliding against my own, the line would be obliterated.
Obliterated.
Such a good word for what he was capable of doing to me. Aiden Hennessy was huge, and my toes curled helplessly at the feel of him pressed between my legs. All it would take is a tip backward, a tug of a few meaningless scraps of material, and I’d be his.
Please, I mouthed against his cheek.
“Fuck,” he whispered, a tortured whisper that made my thighs clench around his hips. “I can’t,” he hissed.
Aiden shoved away from the bed and stood, striding out of the room before I could take my next breath.
I fell back on the bed, hand pressed over my hammering chest, and wondered if it was possible to die from built-up sexual tension.
Even though the door was open, and I heard the bang of a kitchen cabinet, I stayed right where I was. There was nothing to be gained from following him out of the bedroom, from pushing him on why he held up this imaginary line.
Or not now.
This night felt like a crossroads. The moment we just shared was a road diverging into two distinct paths in front of us.
Admittedly, his was even bigger than mine. He was moving on from a love he’d lost. I was simply taking a first step toward something that large.
Wearily, I rose from the bed and walked into the massive bathroom attached to his room. The sunken white tub looked pretty amazing, along with stretches of gleaming tile and a glass-enclosed shower. My whole body ached, and I couldn’t even tell how much of it came from what just happened with Aiden, a letdown of energy that had propped me up for that moment in time.
In the mirror over the double vanity, I leaned in and studied the cut on my forehead. There was minimal bruising around it, which was good. Maybe Paige wouldn’t lose her shit too badly when she saw me.
Everything about the past twenty-four hours was hitting me at the same time. The entire roller coaster almost too much for my body to process.
I just wanted … to float. Feel warm and clean and good.
Decision made, I walked over to the tub and flipped the water on, testing the water when it got to the right temperature. There was no fancy bath soap in his bathroom, but I found some good old-fashioned Epsom salt in the linen closet, which I poured under the running water. It dissolved in the water as I swept my hand around the crystals.
There was no more banging in the kitchen, and I walked back into the bedroom to grab the clean clothes out of my backpack. As I straightened, I caught sight of Aiden sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.
When I paused in the doorway, he lifted his head, and our eyes met.
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take a bath,” I said.
His eyes burned bright, but he didn’t answer.
“Unless you feel like explaining to me why you can’t,” I added. “Because I’d love to understand it.”
