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“Cassidy, I—”
“Let’s not do this here,” she says, and I raise a brow.
She tries to mask her unease with a smile, but I can see the turmoil brewing. I know it all too well.
“I’m good. Can we leave?” She turns to the window, officially closing the door to any further talk about what just happened.
It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t need her to say I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. She might’ve been giving me the go-ahead signs, but she didn’t speak the words. Yet again, I forced her into a situation she didn’t choose. I know I messed everything up.
Because now that I’ve tasted her lips again, I’m not sure how I’m going to keep this just business. Assuming after tonight, she doesn’t tell me to go to hell.
I’m fucked.
16
CASSIDY
I’m not going to lie…I’m a hot mess.
Yep.
That’s me.
The idiot who pretended she could separate her emotions and work for this man. Someone who thought she could be subjected to the limelight, groped, and chased down, and not panic.
Hot. Mess. Idiot.
I know without a measure of a doubt, in order to help him, I will have to break my own heart.
I’d gladly fall on my sword to heal him. To save him.
The most tragic part of my misguided plan is that I’ve barely even scratched the surface of things to do for him. Ways to help him. It’s become painfully clear that this Aiden is not the boy I once knew. He’s changed.
Then there’s the whole fact that I’m falling all over myself because of one damn kiss. One incredibly amazing kiss.
Aiden kissed me.
Again.
Sure, we already had sex, but this is different. Feels different.
That night lives in a self-contained vacuum.
Now I’m in his life, living in his home, and I no longer have the luxury to pretend he’s someone else. After the first night, I took all my lustful thoughts, pushed them back in the corner of my brain, and remembered who he was to me and why I can’t get attached. I pretended we were both someone else.
Tonight, Aiden Slate kissed me.
The boy I loved as a brother, a protector…he kissed me, and shit, now I want him to do it all over again.
Re-reading the letters I sent him had helped keep things in check since the night I slept with him. It’s reminded me of why I sought him out to begin with.
But right now—my brain isn’t listening, and neither is my libido. Something unlocked within me when his arms wrapped around my body, and he claimed me for the world to see.
It might’ve been fake, but it felt real.
Because damn, the man can kiss, and now I’m back to remembering everything else he can do, and it has me on edge. Perspiration builds at my hairline. Palms sweaty. Legs pressed tightly together.
Thinking about the way he used my mouth—yeah, not going there.
