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I don’t think it’s a conscious thing, the way his hands raise and his fingertips graze the bit of skin between the hem of my T-shirt and my cotton shorts that I’m just now remembering have little hearts all over them.
His voice is impossibly soft now, almost hoarse sounding. “Have you?”
“For weeks,” I admit, feeling bold.
He grips my hips. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”
You don’t know the half of it.
“I don’t mind a little crazy,” I breathe, my mouth inches from his.
I feel the hot warmth of his palm slide under my shirt, shaping itself against my waist as he glances down to my chest. “You’re wearing the shirt again.”
“It’s my favorite.”
He makes a sound I’ve never heard him make before, something like a groan and a whine that I feel all the way down to my toes. “It’s mine too.”
He goes impossibly still when I press my hands to his chest, when I let them push higher to grip his shoulders—finallyallowing myself to feel the shape of his body against mine, like I’ve been daydreaming about. If the hardsomethingpressing against my belly is any indication, I think it’s safe to say Aiden is telling the truth when he says he’s been thinking about me.
“This is crazy,” he whispers again.
I let my hands slide back down to the firmness of his chest. “It would be crazier if you kissed me.”
“Can I?”
“Aiden.”
He doesn’t need any more hints.
His mouth is as soft as it looks, exploring but gentle as his lips curve against mine. I can feel the searching press of his tongue as it licks along my lower lip like a question, and I don’t need any more prompting to open and let him inside. When his tongue touches mine, it’s like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly his hands are at my jaw and in my hair and everywhere else—tugging and touching everything he can reach. I swallow down his needy sounds as he presses me against the wall, tucking each one away in my memory so that I can take them out later like little treasures.
He’s still hard against my stomach, and his hips rut upward in an almost thoughtless way, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. I feel his teeth nibble at my lip and then his breath hot against my jaw, the sensations all blending together as his touch sets me on fire.
“We can’t.” His voice sounds pained against my skin. “We shouldn’t—”
I feel a flush of panic. “What? We can’t?”
“Not here,” he groans softly. “Sophie. She could...”
Like hell am I letting him stop after riling me up this much. I push him backward toward the bathroom door, grasping behind him to turn the handle as we rush inside. He reaches to turnon the light, and now that I can see him all lit up—hair a mess, mouth red from kissing—everything feels extremely real.
Are we really doing this?
Apparently so, if the way Aiden is kissing my neck is any indication.
“This shirt is very distracting.” I tilt my head back when his mouth wanders, kissing at the bit of my exposed collarbone as his hand slides up the front of my T-shirt to cup just below my breast. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About what’s underneath.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
I make a sound when his mouth suddenly covers my nipple through the thin material, a soft cry that sounds louder echoing against the tiles in the bathroom. Aiden pulls away immediately, looking up at me with hooded eyes. “You have to be quiet,” he murmurs. “Can you do that?”
“I can—” My gasp is softer when his lips cover me again to suck, but no less heavy. “I can be quiet.”
He hums against my nipple as the increasingly wet cotton starts to rub me in a way that tingles, and my fingers find his hair to push through it, holding him close. It’s everything I imagined it would be, him touching me, both now and a year ago—and part of me is struggling to make sense of all of it.
Not that Aiden gives me much time to overthink.
I feel his hand sliding from my waist to press against my stomach now, his thumb stroking the material between my legs in a featherlight way. “Tell me to stop,” Aiden says roughly. “Tell me to stop, if that’s what you want.”
