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“Annie should mind her own business.”
“She’s worried about you. So am I.”
“The reporter who wrote the article, James Webster, ‘urgently’ wants to talk to me again about what happened.”
“Why don’t you? Maybe you could set the record straight, tell him what really happened?”
“I’ve done that!” she cried out. “I made an appointment with him against Annie and Mitch’s advice. I tried to explain what really happened. Webster was friendly, kind. I thought he was going to retract his earlier article. But then he went and wrote the second article, implying I was flirting with him! So no, I’m done with giving reporters second chances. You only get one with them, I’ve discovered. I don’t want to talk to him—he’s only looking for more dirt to write about.”
For a few minutes it was quiet in the car.
“I have to go,” Vivian finally said.
Lifting his hand, Aiden touched her face. “I want to kiss you again.”
“You’re leaving after Valentine’s Day.”
“I know, but I still want to kiss you.”
Her heart breaking, she leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on his lips, but he cupped her face, warm, urgent lips met hers, and she was lost. She could swear she felt her ovaries clapping.Help.
Angling his head, he deepened the kiss. Instant heat pulsed through her body, igniting little fires as far as it went. His lips teased and tormented hers until she was just about melting in his arms. This was torture, though she wanted, no, needed so much more. Her breasts were heavy with need.
As if he could read her mind, his one hand slipped inside her coat to close over one of her breasts, his thumb finding and teasing her aching nipple.
With her senses overstimulated, his scent was playing havoc with her self-control. His ragged breathing spurred her on, and throwing caution to the wind, she loosened enough buttons on his shirt to allow herself to finally feel skin under her fingers.
Aiden lifted his head, desire burning in his eyes. “I have to touch you…” With fingers not quite steady, he slipped a hand inside her top. His breathing became even more ragged. “Damn, woman. You’re not wearing a bra.”
“Not with this top…”
Cussing softly, he gathered her close while he fondled her breast. “It’s a good thing I didn’t know that. You’re killing me,” he growled. Slowly, he pulled his hand away and closed her coat.
It took her sluggish brain a few more minutes to realize where they were. Groaning out loud, she rubbed her face. “It’s broad daylight, and we’re making out in a car like teenagers right in front of the house where my brother and sister live, where anybody could pass at any moment. Damn it, I don’t think when I’m around you!” Mortified, she closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve just told you that.”
He chuckled. “I have the same problem around you.”
She quickly got out of the car. Nothing like Marietta’s icy-cold air to clear her head.
Aiden was at her door, though, before she could move.
“Thanks,” she said again. “I’ll see you around.”
He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. Instead, he pressed his lips together and nodded.
She quickly ran the few steps to the front door. He was still standing next to his car when she closed the door behind her. Could this possibly be the last time she’d see him?
Her heart ached, but swallowing down the lump in her throat, she followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen.
*
Aiden was backhome in time to wave off Aunt Janice as she left for school. He hadn’t slept much on the hospital couch last night, but there was no way he was going to fall asleep now. Feelings, thoughts, and excitement were keeping his brain busy, and he’d probably be in this state for a while.
Feeling caged in, he began pacing the floor in the small living room. This was where he’d had Vivian in his arms last night, where all rational thought had left him. Chances were, they’d have ended up in his room in his bed if her phone hadn’t rung.
His body reacted to the mere thought in seconds. Damn, he wasn’t even near her.
However, if she hadn’t been called back to the hospital, she probably never would’ve told him her side of the story. He continued pacing, trying to remember exactly what she’d said about the reporter who had contacted her again. James something. James Webster.
