The world drops out from beneath my feet. I’m standing here, staring at Aiden, but it feels as if I’m falling through space.
“I see.”
Everything I thought we had built in Europe—the camaraderie, the trust, the tentative friendship that bordered on something more—doesn’t exist. Aiden is nothing like Brett. Which, I realize as I turn away and move toward the kitchen island to grab my phone, makes this whole situation worse. Ten times worse. When I ended things with Brett, the relief left me weak-kneed and feeling so light I half wondered if I’d float up to the ceiling.
Now the pain is immense. A stab that pierces skin and bone and cuts straight to my heart.
Because, I acknowledge, as my vision blurs, I am in love with Aiden. Perhaps my crush on him has always been more than the shallow fondness I told myself it was. Maybe it’s the intimacy of making love with someone who pays attention to me, to my needs and wants and pleasure.
But it’s so much more than that. Aiden is so much more than that. Learning about the man behind the facade, how he rose above impossible heartbreak and achieved success while still staying true to his roots, pulled me over the edge I’ve been standing on for far longer than I’m comfortable admitting.
I press my lips together. I will not cry in front of him. I will not let myself look like a fool.
“Seraphina.”
The sound of my name, that guttural pain lurking in his voice, pulls at me. My traitorous heart leaps. For one moment, I wonder,what if?
Except that’s what I did with Brett. For years. Aiden is nothing like Brett. Our relationship, false as it is, has everything I’ve dreamed about. Someone I can talk to, who listens to and respects me, someone who likes trying new things and cares about more than just their career or how good they look.
But the one thing still missing is the one thing I will never compromise on again. I need more than just a friend and lover. I want, and deserve, a man who will love me just as much as I love him. I’m not settling for less, and I’m not pushing Aiden to give what he doesn’t want to.
“I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Practice.”
I pour the rest of the wine down the sink, rinse out the glass and pick up my book, avoiding looking at him. Tomorrow, I think. I’ll break things off tomorrow or the day after. Give him a little time to process the blow from George Randolph.
“I’ll stay at my place tonight. It’s closer.”
Aiden stares at me, eyes sharp and intense as he watches me. I resist the urge to squirm. I have nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing.
“How about I drive you and then bring you back here?”
“No.” I clear my throat. “I’ll just take a cab.”
“I didn’t…” His voice trails off and he looks away, his jaw so tight he could probably crunch rocks between his teeth. “I’m not asking you to leave, Seraphina.”
“I know. I’m offering. Not just for you, although that’s part of it.” I take a risk and close the distance between us. “But for me, too. It’s hard…” I hesitate. Try to find the balance of how much to share without making this all about me. “It’s hard for me to be here when you’re shutting me out.”
He blinks. “It’s not personal.”
The knife stabs deeper, twists. I force myself to nod before I reach up and lay my hand on his cheek. The hint of stubble grazes my palm, sends a shudder through me. “It’s okay, Aiden.”
He blinks again as his brows draw together. Before he can say anything else, I lean up on my toes and kiss him. I only intended for it to be a quick graze of the lips. But it suddenly hits me that this is probably the last time I’ll kiss him. The deal is lost. The media attention is dying down. There’s no need for me to live here, to wear his ring on my finger.
When I walk out that door, we’ll be over.
I move, sliding one hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer as my other hand slides up into his wet hair. I gasp his name, press my hips against him.
We detonate. His arms come around me and pin me to his hard, damp chest. He hardens against me as my thighs clench. His lips part. Our tongues meet, duel as I rip away the towel and he grabs the hem of my dress. We break apart for a half second for him to rip it over my head before we slam back into each other. Mouths, hands moving relentlessly, touching every inch we can as he walks me back.
Before I can catch my breath, his hands tighten on my waist and he lifts me up onto the counter, bringing me eye-level with him. For a moment I see something flare in the chestnut depths, something warm that makes my chest ache with longing.
And then it’s gone, replaced by the one thing Aiden lets exist between us: desire.
So I take it. I take every tiny piece he offers and hold it close as he kisses me with such possessive confidence I can barely catch my breath. He swallows every moan as he unhooks my bra, trails his mouth down my neck as he palms my bare breasts, cradles them in his hands. He pulls me to the edge of the countertop, stepping between my thighs as he presses himself against my core. I can feel every inch of him through the thin layer of my underwear.
