Page 116 of Pretender

“Okay? What do you mean?”

“It’s best now while you’re already wet and worked up.”

“But what will you do?”

“I’m going to use my long, strong fingers, and … play around. You just need to relax, and trust that I’m loving every single second of it.”

“You don’t need to do that for me. I’m very satisfied.”

“This is for me, if that helps. Having your velvety warmth on my fingers, hearing your moans. It’s heaven for me. You don’t have to come, you don’t have to do anything except be mindful of what’s going on inside you. I want to feel you on my hand. Please?”

“Okay. I like you saying please.”

“Once I’m familiar with every inch of your pussy, I’m going to tease and edge you until you’re pleading. Begging me. Please, Aiden, please.”

Linnea rolls into my arms, laughing. “Promise?” She looks up at me with those dark blue eyes and I understand now—she’s given into me. I carry her now. Her heart. And I never knew I’d find that so frightening. It’s an immense responsibility.

Carrying this beautiful, fragile soul.

And she has mine.

Right now, I’m not clear on which is more terrifying.

“Promise,” I say, kissing her hair, and wrap my arms tightly around her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

challenge accepted

AIDEN

The ugly green carpet is gone and the timber floor Linnea talked about is exposed. It looks exceptional. It needs a bit of a clean, but so far it doesn’t seem to need replacement.

The structural work is nearly done for Linnea’s team to continue on the ground floor. Pillars have been removed, two of the walls knocked down. It’s open and airy. Much brighter than it was a few weeks ago.

Grafton Street is progressing at pace, and I’d usually be absorbed in it. Instead, I’m entirely absorbed in her.

As if she can sense where my mind is, she lifts her head and finds my gaze from the other side of the room. She and Olga just returned from the basement where they’ve checked in on the new bar that’s been installed. They’re updating something on their tablet, probably the vision board or their plans, but she’s as distracted as I am, beaming at me across the bustling room between us.

Olga says something that wins Linnea’s attention back to their tablet.

This place is going to be absolutely stunning. A different vibe from The Orion. A touch darker, but no less unique.

Linnea’s concept for the basement nightclub is wild—literally, wild animals, which came to life when she talked me through it. I’d never even dream this stuff up. Her vision for these places is just extraordinary.

Everything about her is … exactly that. Extraordinary.

As I watch her talking, nodding, brushing a hair off her forehead, I’m filled with such warmth. She’s mine. My home. And she looks incredible in that mind-numbing, figure-hugging navy blue dress of hers.

This past week has been phenomenal—exploring her body, getting to know her mind, what makes her laugh, what causes that little worry crease on her brow. She’s curious about my dad, but I sense she’s being careful whenever family comes up.

But if I tell her now… Will she start doubting me?

I’ve not told anyone the whole story. Not even Mark. Makes it less true. Sort of.

“Oh no,” Linnea gasps, and even through the hammering from upstairs and loud voices of the contractors carrying throughout the space, I hear her clearly.

She squats down and brushes a hand over the timber floor, turns to Olga and says something. I walk over to see what the problem is. Her fingers trace visible cracks in the wood along the wall.