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He laved one nipple while his fingers toyed with the other, pinching and then stroking the pebbled nub.
“Lie back,” he told her.
“Griffin—”
“Shh,” he whispered, unfastening her jeans and sliding them over her hips. He left the red lace panties on that matched her bra, and kissed through their dampness.
“Every time I closed my eyes, this is what I thought about,” he murmured as he pulled the panties to the side and feasted on her sex, bringing her to the first of what he knew would be countless orgasms.
No woman he’d ever been with responded to him the way Aine did, and no other woman had turned him on the way she did either.
God, he missed her. Not only in his bed, but in every part of his life. What could he do, though? He’d made the decision to end their relationship, and he had to live with it.
—:—
Two of Stuart’s friends stopped by the table, and after about a minute, Aine was no longer paying attention to their conversation.
Why couldn’t she have stopped herself from looking at the house when they’d walked by? Why did Striker have to be standing on the deck when she looked? Why did they have to make eye contact? Couldn’t he have looked away?
Stuart, probably noticing she was lost in thought, rested his hand on her leg. When she smiled at him, he moved his hand from her leg and brought it to the back of her neck.
“Bored?” he asked, leaning in to kiss the side of her face.
Aine shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
Stuart smiled and went back to talking to his friends. He kept his hand on her nape, though. It felt possessive, but not in a good way. More as though he wanted to be sure she stayed focused on him as he took part in a conversation that had nothing to do with her.
Aine wouldn’t have had to turn and look, she felt Striker’s presence as soon as he walked through the hotel’s entrance. The air changed. It wasn’t warmer or colder; it was heavier—thick with everything left unsaid between them.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Why had he suddenly decided he was so wrong for her after they’d talked about everything from their age difference to how often he was forced to be away because of what he did for a living?
These were among the issues he’d sited when he said a relationship couldn’t work between them. Something told her, though, that he wasn’t being completely honest.
Aine had a slew of insecurities she could turn into other reasons he didn’t want to be with her, but since she’d never know for sure, she couldn’t waste more energy on it than she already had.
But why did the air still crackle when the only connection between them was through their eyes? What would it be like if they spoke? Would the pull be too much for them to ignore, or were those feelings hers alone? Maybe he was immune to what she believed was an undeniable attraction between them, or maybe he just didn’t feel it the way she did.
Aine turned her head and saw Stuart’s two friends had left, and that he had seen the exchange she had with the man who had been standing in the lobby.
“Someone your brother-in-law works with,” he murmured, his eyes boring into hers.
“That’s right.”
“I wish you’d tell me the truth, Aine.”
She shook her head. “I’m not lying to you,” she said, knowing he meant by omission, but unwilling to say more about the man who no longer wanted anything to do with her.
While he may have played a different role in her life at one time, now he was just someone her sister’s husband worked with.
“Not hungry?” Stuart asked, eyeing Aine’s half-eaten plate.
“Not as much as I thought I was.” She’d ordered a smaller portion meal, knowing she wouldn’t have much of an appetite because of the anxiety she was feeling over Striker being in the small town she now called home. Even so, she’d moved the food around her plate more than ate it. “I’m sorry,” she added.
Stuart nodded and motioned to the waiter for the check.
“Let me get it,” she said, pulling her wallet out of the small cross-body bag she wore.
“Aine, please don’t do that.”
