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Sooo badly.
I didn’t think that had anything to do with the fog taking over my brain either, nor the migraine from hell that was starting to make itself known.
I wanted to dig my nails into his back, to scrape the hell out of it, to claw and scratch just so when he put a shirt on the next day, he remembered exactly who he’d been to bed with.
For all of these reasons, I’d said ‘fine.’
Of course, men being men, of which Aidan still was one, even if he was definitely special, he couldn’t just roll with it.
Instead, he frowned down at me like he’d have preferred an argument, then uttered fighting words, "You’ll stay for however long it takes, Savannah. Do you hear me?"
Well, look at me just adding an extrathreeweeks to every exposé I needed to write.
Hell, maybe I could tie him up with me for the next thirty frickin’ years.
Because I figured he wanted me to argue, I scowled at him. "If you insist."
"Oh, I do." He growled as he pushed back and away from the wall. Away from me. I missed his heat. Damn, did I miss it. I missed his smell and the way the air around us seemed to tingle. Didn’t he feel that? "I’ll take you to a bedroom. You can get some rest—"
"Rest?" I snorted. "Not going to happen." I flexed my sore hands as I thought about how he’d just answered my question.
He apparently didn’t feel ‘that’ because if he did, there was a perfectly great bed right behind him.
I didn’t even take up that much room on the mattress.
"You’ve been through a trying ordeal, Savannah," he grumbled.
"I’m not eighty-nine, Aidan," I retorted.
His eyes narrowed. "If I have to put you to bed myself, you’ll get some sleep."
I perked up. "Okay."
He frowned. "Okay? What the hell’s going on with you tonight?"
Shit. "Like you said, it’s been a trying ordeal." Shit. I might have backpedaled a little too far because he no longer looked suspicious, just amused at how damn perky I was at the prospect of him hustling me between the sheets. "I guess Iammore tired than I thought," I said, faking a yawn that I kind of ruined because as I faked it, a real one popped out. You know the kind. A jaw-popping, face-cracking, lion’s roar of a yawn.
Aidan snorted. "Thought as much. Come on. I’ll take you to a spare room."
"Thank you," I said sheepishly, trudging after him as he pulled the door open and limped into the hallway.
Carefully reducing my pace to match his, I peeped over at him. When he sensed my focus, he cast me a glance and his lips curved.
He smiled!
He only fucking smiled!
A real one. Agenuineone. Not a twitch of his mouth at the corners or a smirk. But a beautiful one.
And it packed as much of a punch as ever.
Holy shit. Be still my heart and my ovaries because things were setting in for a bumpy ride.
Every part of me pulsing—yes, even my bones—I smiled back. His eyes darkened, and he quickly looked away.
Why did he do that?
Grrr.
