Claire

I never was a good liar, so it was practically impossible to control my jitters on our way home from dinner. The food had been delicious, the company amazing, and the sexual tension unreal. Not unreal bad, but unreal good.

Off-the-charts amazing.

My heart pounded when Aiken got near. My thighs clenched from his private words meant for me. I felt myself smile when he listened intently to me. He was younger, but his actions were not those of a young man. He was an old soul, trapped in the body of a young Adonis, and I wanted him.

Lord help me.

There was no way he wouldn’t be an amazing lover, giving and controlling in equal measure. Surely, he wouldn’t be like any lover I’d ever had. Which, by the way, I could’ve counted on one hand.

He also wasn’t wrong about the cobwebs.

A plethora of them blanketed my most private parts.

“You need to quiet your racing mind,” Aiken interrupted my brewing panic.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Still your crazy head.”

“Gah, I’m a grown woman who is nervous as hell about you walking me to the door.”

He gave me a quick side glance. “Richards, there’s no walking you to the door. I’m walking you right in the door and straight up to your bedroom, where I’m going to take your dress off slowly. Very slowly. Then I’m going to spend some time staring at your gorgeous body in only a bra and, hopefully, a thong, from what I can tell, before I take those off too and lay you down on the bed and…”

“Oh…”

“Unless you’re not ready, in which case, I’ll give you a little peck good night at the back door after you let Smitty out.”

I swallowed twice—the first time was pure fear, the second was one hundred percent lust.

“No, I’m ready.”

He maneuvered his truck in front of his house and calmly walked around the front to open my passenger door. With my hand in his, he helped me down.

“Whoa, Claire, you’re shaking like a leaf.” He gathered me in his arms and squeezed me tight.

My eyelids fell shut. “I’m fine.” It was spoken softly and a lie.

“Shhh.” His lips grazed my forehead. “I was mostly kidding about stripping you down. I want to, but it’s not required.”

My head tilted, and I found his gaze. “I want that. I meant it. It’s been a while. A while for all that. A while since I’ve had such an enjoyable night. All of it. I’m overwhelmed.”

He bent, his lips meeting mine, mine answering his unspoken request to open up. Our mouths moved in sync. His tongue entered my mouth, brushing against mine, one stroke, two…I lost count. Our chests beat together, air in and out to the same tune. My hand found his rear, and his palm cupped mine.

This was how we stayed for a while, on our street, in plain view for anyone to witness. There was no rushing, no dismissing what we were doing.

“Claire.” My name was a whisper from his throat. “That’s what I want, you to be relaxed, happy, do things you haven’t done in a long time.”

Nodding against his chest, I said, “Let’s go inside.”

He took my hand and walked me down my driveway, snatched my key, and opened the door, holding it open for Smitty, ushering him outside, rushing him through his business, before kicking the door closed and stealing me upstairs.

“We’ll take it slow. When it’s too much, you just say so.” His hand slid around the back of my neck, gathering my mouth close to his. His words tickled my lips, his scruff burned my chin, his breath warmed my cheek.

His mouth devoured mine, while his other hand—the one that wasn’t holding on to my neck like his life depended on it—unzipped my dress. A wisp of black fabric pooled at my feet, surrounding my strappy heels.

“Gorgeous,” he muttered, his rougher-than-I’d-ever-experienced hand now coursing down my side, catching on my bra for a moment or three.

He didn’t wait…he pulled the top of my bra down with his teeth and nipped and sucked. A feverish sensation burned through my veins.

With my head thrown back, eyes closed, I felt Aiken settle my back against the wall. The cool plaster was a welcome relief against my flaming skin.

He worked his way to my other breast, unhooking my bra and throwing it on the floor along the way. The first one he assaulted was tender and ripe from his loving when he started in on the other.

Then I heard the thud of his shoes—nicer brown boots, not shitkickers—and I looked down.

He was on his knees, still in his jeans, slipping my thong down my legs, staring at the apex of my thighs like it was better than Sunday football.

He inhaled, running his face up the length of my leg. “Can’t lie. Been thinking about this for a long, long time. Really been thinking about what it would feel like, taste like…”

His lips grazed my calf on their descent, next my ankle, then my ankle lifted, and my poor excuse for underwear was gone.

His palm caressed my thigh, making its way to between my legs, where I was primed and ready. Embarrassment flooded me like a young girl about to give up her virginity. My only excuse was it had been a while.

“I don’t shave it all…or wax, or whatever you may be used to.”

“You’re perfect.” He traced my landing strip with a finger. Up and down, down and up, bringing my every single sense to life. Nothing remained dormant. It was a foreign feeling.

One finger slipped inside me, then another. His tongue found all of my warm and long-unfound spots.

I’d been married, given birth, and yet, I’d never felt this intimate with anyone.

Technically, I shouldn’t have been embarrassed or ashamed.

My mind swirled with lust. I was feeling. Feeling anything I damn well pleased. For the first time in a very long time. It was mind-blowing.

This guy…where did he come from? Sensitive, commanding, sweet, mature beyond his age—he was perfect.

Ripples of sensation began to flow up my spine. My legs tingled, and my hand found its way to the top of his head, curling in his hair, keeping his face where it was planted.

When did I become a wanton fool?

Apparently, I didn’t mind.

My climax washed over me in waves, not stopping until he slowed his pace. His mouth back on mine, he tasted like me, and I couldn’t get over the fact that I liked it. My head raced to keep up with my body, which was now on its back, flat on top of my bed.

Aiken was in front of me, shedding his clothes, pulling a condom from his pocket, guiding it onto his length in mere seconds, before he was back on top of me. He kissed me foolish, his length rubbing against my softness, until he asked, “Is it okay?”

I nodded, and he was inside me. All the way inside me.

A coffee and a few glasses of wine, and he was inside my body.

Maybe even inside my heart.

He slid slowly in and out of me, never taking his eyes off mine.

I felt my eyelids close. He thumbed my cheek. “Stay with me.”

I did, not wanting to miss a second of this.

He picked up the pace, his one hand grasping my hip, the other holding his weight off of me.

The ripples came back in earnest. Aiken took long, slow, drawn-out pulls, and I watched his face savor each one. It was a high like I’d never felt before.

I was literally on cloud nine.

We fell together, pleasure radiating off both of us, until we fell into a heap, intertwined, body parts tangled on top of my covers.

“Best night ever,” I mumbled.

“Oh, there’s more. Let me take care of this condom, be right back. Remember, I’m young enough to be your student. I can go all night long.” He winked, smirked, and disappeared into my bathroom.

Sorry not sorry, but a small smile covered my face.

I woke the next morning, my body aching, my muscles sore, as though I’d run a half-marathon.

Nope, I’d only had sex multiple times with my gorgeous neighbor.

I’d never felt more alive.

As soon as the feeling came to me, shame rained down over me.

Abby was dead, and I was reveling in some post-sex haze.

“Morning.” The hot-blooded man next to me stirred, his head propped up on his palm, his elbow digging into the pillow.

As I turned on my side, all the words got stuck in my throat. Nothing came out.

“Hey.” He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. “Last night was incredible,” he said.

I only nodded.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he said. “You, all of this, it’s taking me by surprise, but I like it.”

“Me too.” It came out hushed like a secret.

A lone tear fell down my cheek. We watched it plop on the pillow like a raindrop.

“What’s wrong?”

My eyes closed, and I allowed myself to feel him caress my arm—up and down and back up again.

“I’m good,” was all I was able to push out of my mouth. “Overwhelmed. Abby’s not here, and all of a sudden, this feels wrong.”

His lips found my temple. “It’s not, Claire. You’re alive, and for the rest of my life, I’ll be sorry for your loss. But that doesn’t mean you can’t live.”

He brought me even closer and nuzzled my cheek to his chest, his chin on the top of my head, his skin wet from my tears. He continued to hold me, not trying to talk me out of my fit, only holding me tight.

Later, he snuck away and returned with coffee, propping me up on pillows and burrowing his arm back underneath me.

“Thanks for a great night,” I told him, and I meant it.

“Better than great. All of it. Every second. From the moment I picked you up.”

“It was. The best,” I admitted.

That didn’t mean I was absolved from guilt.