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I clutched my purse and dug deep for my emergency bottle of Xanax, taking one and downing it with a glass of champagne from a ready tray. Minutes passed as I waited on Carson to bring the car around.
Suddenly Aiden was hot on my heels as he exited the building. Carson pulled up and opened the door for us, concern written all over his face. Once seated, I popped a hot bottle of un-chilled champagne I kept on hand, taking a long sip. It was awful, but it would get the job done.
“I didn’t know. We didn’t exactly disclose our names until the night I asked. I was just as surprised as you are now. When I found out you weren’t brothers, I didn’t think much more of it. I figured he wasn’t a part of your life.”
“You fucked up,” he said tightly. “You figured wrong.”
I felt a chill sweep through me as a stone-faced Aiden failed to look at me. I lowered the glass partition.
“Mr. McIntyre will be returning home.”
Carson nodded as I put the partition back up, cradling the warm bottle of champagne in my arm, wishing at that moment to be anyone but me.
“What can I say? Please, Aiden, tell me.”
Aiden sat perfectly still, his body language screaming violence. I wanted more than anything to ask what had transpired between them but knew I may never get the answers. Carson stopped in Aiden’s drive, and for the first time Aiden looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw what I’d feared.
“If I would have asked you—”
“We would have never begun,” he said, matter-of-fact. “This can’t happen, Nina. I’m sorry.”
He exited the limo, walking past his porch steps toward the side of his house, down the beach path, motion lights beaming on to guide his steps. I blindly followed him, my insides sinking as he made his way out to the surf, untying his bowtie. He stood as he reached the white foam, the only light hovering over us coming from the back porch of his house.
“Aiden, please talk to me.” I heard my voice shake and took a deep breath.
“You knew,” he said as a statement. “You surprise me sometimes. I think I have you figured out and then you pull the rug out from under me. It was what I loved about you most. Now I think it’s what I like about you least.”
“Fuck, please don’t do that. Don’t jab at me. You came after me that night, remember. I didn’t do this intentionally or to spite him.”
“It can’t happen. I’m sorry. You need to leave.” He walked away, leaving me on the beach holding a hot bottle of champagne and my face covered in running mascara.
§§
I was pulled from sleep by the rumbling of my cell phone. I quickly texted Taylor that I would be into the office in the morning, then lay in bed with my eyes shut tight.
Did that really fucking happen?
I had no reason to believe Devin would show up to that event. It wasn’t something he would be inter
ested in, and no matter how hard I’d pushed the case, none of the women on my other committees were remotely interested in helping with the expansion of the aquarium.
He’d made good on his threat and come specifically for me.
And now you know. Cousins.
I saw it and ignored it. Same last name, similar upbringings, Ivy League educations. It was clear it was a connect the dots scenario. I knew, and I’d ignored it. I wanted Aiden. And deep down, I still wanted Devin. Fresh tears crippled me from moving out of bed as I christened my pillow over and over. Devin was furious. Aiden was done. And I was once again alone.
Who exactly was I crying for?
I wiped my face, but the tears wouldn’t stop, my body aching with my deep-seated need for the man I loved and loathed, and the good man I’d lost and wanted desperately to keep, the pulse between my thighs making me aware I could never have either.
I’d let sexual thirst rule my life, and now as I shuddered with sobs to grieve both men, I was all too aware of my arousal. The need was distinct and unavoidable. My nipples peaked with thoughts that should be anything but present, and I pinched them hard in frustration. I moaned out as the pleasure broke through the pain, my sex becoming heavier with need.
Disgusted, I turned on my stomach and buried my head in the pillow as my hand drifted down toward the throbbing. I cried out when my fingers reached the tip, tears still coming down as I gave in to my need. I stroked myself hard without giving my body a chance to open.
Punishing my clit with rough fingers, I strained for release and came up empty. I cried in frustration, bringing the wetness from my middle to the top, rubbing furiously and moving my hips for friction. Still gasping and straining, I came up empty and moved my head to the side for more air, and I froze.
He stood next to my bed, his eyes on fire with lust as he watched me cry in frustration and heartbreak, trying to reach my orgasm.
