Twelve
They were earlier than she expected. Aidan’s text came through at five minutes ‘til ten, and fifteen minutes after that, headlights flashed across the front of the house and bounced up over the curb into the driveway.
Sam’s stomach unclenched, the hard knot in its center loosening as she exhaled shakily. She’d been feigning calm for her mother’s benefit, and was thankful the charade was over.
“Is that them? Thank god,” Mom breathed, hands noticeably trembling as she got to her feet.
Ordinarily, Sam would have led the charge to the back door, but tonight, her mother had finally managed to reach deep and find her fury, and a furious Helen Walton was a frightening spectacle. Tonight, for once, Sam wouldn’t have to play the bad cop.
When Mom opened the door, Erin charged inside, head downcast, arms folded tight across her middle. Sam had a glimpse of a tight top, teased hair, and her own thigh-high boots, worn with a supershort skirt that was decidedly not hers.
“You wait just a minute, young lady,” Helen said in her rarely used imperious tone. “Where in the world do you think you’re going?”
Erin froze in place out of sheer shock, head lifting, eyes widening. It broke Sam's heart a little to see the copious amounts of inexpertly applied makeup on her little sister’s face.
With total composure, Helen turned to the still-open door. There stood Aidan, in black hoodie, black bandana around his throat, looking ten kinds of hoodlum. “Thank you, Aidan, for bringing her home,” she said solemnly, and Aidan ducked his head an appropriate amount.
“Yes, ma’am, you’re welcome.”
Then Helen turned to Erin and pointed toward the living room. “We’re having a discussion. Now.”
Erin, wisely, didn’t groan, drag her feet, or make so much as a protesting face.
When they had trooped into the next room, and Sam was sure they’d both forgotten she existed, she stepped out onto the back patio with Aidan and pulled the door to. When she met his gaze, his eyes slid over to the closed door, then back to her, and he lifted his brows. Asking why she’d shut them out here together.
Her heart gave a sharp, sudden lurch.
“I figure you’ve been on the receiving end of enough lectures; no sense listening to another,” she joked, and earned a wide, toothy grin.
Her poor, poor heart.
“Seriously, though.” She pulled the halves of her cardigan together against the sharp chill of the night, and hoped there was enough light coming through the back windows for him to see the gratitude in her expression. “Thank you so much for bringing her home. I don’t know…” She trailed off, because she didn’t know. Whether they could control Erin, whether the next time she disappeared would be the last, whether there was any way to convey her love and worry to her little sister.
“I never went through this, you know?” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to guide her through it.”
He nodded and dug a cigarette from his hoodie pocket. “You mind?”
“No. But aren’t you–”
As she asked the question, the headlights retreated down the driveway and the truck he’d arrived in backed out into the street.
“You’re missing your ride.”
“I told them to go on. My place isn’t far, I’ll walk.”
He’d told them to go on. Why? So he could stand out here and talk to her?
The stuttering of her heart spread, pulsed deep in her stomach, threatened to make her smile.
Aidan put his cigarette between his lips and lit it, took a long drag and let the smoke out through his nose. He dragged one of the sun-faded chairs away from the patio table and sat, pulling another up close beside him, intending she come sit close.
She couldn’t have refused if she’d wanted to.
When she was settled beside him, achingly aware of the few inches that separated them, breathing in the sharp tang of his smoke, he said, “Some people don’t want what’s best for them. You can pour your whole heart into making them see that you’re trying to help, but it doesn’t mean it’ll ever take.” He turned a serious look to her, eyes black in the moonlight. “It doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“You know I am.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult you, Aidan,” she said, softly.
“I know, baby.”
Baby. That word had never made her blood sing the way it did now.
“I wish I could make her see that I’m trying to give her a future. That I’m protecting her.”
“She’ll see it. Eventually.”
“But what if it’s too late?” she asked.
He studied her, expression hard to read in the semi-dark. “Do you think that happens? That it gets too late for somebody?”
Oh, damn. He wasn’t talking about Erin anymore.
She thought carefully, dampened her lips. “I don’t think it’s ever too late to make the decision to change your life. But you might not be able to change it that much.”
“What if it’s already changing? When you didn’t ask it to?”
She’d never seen him cryptic; it was unsettling. “What’s going on with you lately?” When he started to shake his head, she said, “Aidan, please, you’re starting to worry me. What’s wrong?”
He made a face and took a drag on his smoke, staring out across the shadowed yard.
“Did you get detention again?” she prodded with a weak smile.
That earned her a wry grin. “Yeah. Told the teacher to suck my dick.”
They both chuckled, hollow, half-humored sounds.
He wasn’t going to tell her, she knew. Whatever troubled him was going to have to fester a little longer, until he was ready to let it burst forth.
“Thank you,” she said again. “I have no idea how I would have gotten her home.”
“You’d have figured it out.” He turned toward her. “You’re good at everything you set out to do. Probably even dragging kids outta parties.”
She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. “Do you have to flatter me every time I say thank you?”
“I’m not flattering.”
“No?”
“I’m flirting.”
“I think you’ve lost your touch.”
“Nah.” Another of those blinding grins. “You’re just fighting me is all.”
“With good reason.”
“I don’t wanna have that argument again.”
She got to her feet, albeit reluctantly. “Then I guess this is goodnight.”
His chair was closer to the door, and she had to sidle past him to get to –
Something hard locked around her forearm, and she tumbled down off her feet, was yanked to the side and…
Into Aidan’s lap.
She landed with an unladylike gasp of surprise, both legs hooked over the flimsy plastic arm of the chair, a hand braced automatically on his chest for balance. She was made instantly aware of the precise area of his anatomy beneath her backside, and her blush was instant, burning her entire face.
“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to contain her surprise.
“Exactly what it looks like,” he said with a low, dark laugh.
The chair flexed beneath their combined weights.
“This thing won’t hold both of us,” she warned, and the breathless quality of her voice had nothing to do with the prospect of the chair breaking.
“Betcha fifty bucks it will,” Aidan retorted.
She didn’t have a chance to accept or decline that bet, because one of his hands curled around the back of her neck and the other took a solid hold on her hip. He brought her face down, and she knew, had she really wanted to, she could have shaken his hold.
But that was the thing. If she wanted to.
She drew in a deep breath, told her body to soften, and allowed herself to fall into the kiss.
And damn, was it ever a kiss. Part Christmas morning, part Fourth of July fireworks, part rich red wine that went straight to her head. He was good at this. He’d had a lot of practice.
She stilled when that thought passed through her mind. She imagined all his experience, the countless women who’d been in his lap, just as she was now.
He felt her hesitancy, and his hand slid up her waist, squeezed her through her sweater. His tongue flicked into her mouth. Just let it go, he said silently. Whatever it is, let go of it.
That sounded like an excellent idea.
She eased her jaw, as his tongue pressed deeper, and he invaded her mouth. A slow, almost careful invasion, like he was afraid she’d spook, and like he was determined to use each and every subtle stroke of his lips to calm her racing thoughts…and then obliterate them entirely.
It felt like an hour before she finally pulled back, lips throbbing, head swirling as if she were drunk. She realized she’d let all her weight rest against him, and had knotted her fists in the front of his hoodie, his heart murmuring beneath her knuckles.
The angles of his face were harsh, but his eyes were wide and soft. Desire. That’s what it was radiating off every inch of him. He wanted her.
It slammed into her, larger than life: Aidan Teague wanted her.
God, when had that happened?
She flicked out her tongue to dampen her lips and found them already slick from the touch of his mouth. A low, deep quiver started up in her stomach, a pulse of heat between her legs.
But things were happening too fast, and nothing could come to fruition, here in the yard, not while Helen was just inside lecturing Erin. The thought was a rush of cold water across her skin.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked.
His head tilted back, clearly surprised. But he said, “Sure.”
She was touched with embarrassment as she climbed inelegantly to her feet. Why, she didn’t know. Kneejerk reaction, most like.
As she headed for the door, she caught sight of his cigarette lying on the concrete, a little flash of white in the night. It was still smoldering, thin finger of smoke curling up from the tip. He’d dropped it when he’d grabbed her, abandoned the taste of tobacco for that of her mouth.
That little bundle of shame burst apart and evaporated, as she stood rooted, staring at his forgotten smoke. He was the same Aidan he’d always been. But he wanted her.
And she’d always wanted him.
Fuck it, she was going to go for it.
“You alright?” he asked behind her.
“Perfect,” she said, and meant it, her steps light as she flitted to the back door and slipped inside.
She felt giddy as a little girl, suddenly, full of champagne bubbles. She wanted to giggle as she tiptoed across the old faded linoleum.
Aidan. Aidan and her. The two of them. Aidan.
She went to the threshold between kitchen and living room just in time to see Erin disappear up the stairs, Helen close behind her.
“She’s going to bed,” Mom announced in a dictatorial tone. “And I’m going to have a soak in the bathtub, and starting tomorrow, things are going to be different around here.”
Sam tried to hide her smile. “Good for you, Mom.”
“Is your friend still here?”
She nodded.
Helen watched her a moment, hand on the banister. Then nodded. “Okay. Night.”
“Night, Mom.”
Drink time.
A quick scan of the cabinets proved they had nothing in the way of alcohol save some cooking sherry, peppermint schnapps, and a new bottle of generic “white blend” wine from Leroy’s. Not even Chardonnay. White. Oh boy.
Deciding on the lesser of two evils, she filled two juice glasses with the white and managed to juggle them without spilling as she let herself back outside. “Sorry,” she said, as he eyed the glass she handed him. “It was either wine or schnapps.”
“Ugh.” He made a comical face of disgust.
“I went with wine.”
“Good call.”
Sam settled back into her chair from before, but noted that it was even closer to Aidan’s, the arms touching so that, as she sat, her own arm was pressed alongside his.
Just go with it, she reminded herself.
“My mom,” she said, smiling as she thought about the look on Helen’s face, “is sending Erin straight off to bed. And according to her, tomorrow there will be ‘changes’ around here.”
Aidan’s expression became one of amused contentment, laced with fatigue, humor, and something sweeter she could only guess at. “Take it she doesn’t put her foot down often.”
“Hardly ever.” Sam relaxed deeper into her chair, anchored by the solidness of Aidan’s forearm pressing against her. “It’s nice not to be the bad guy for once.”
“You should drink to that.” He clinked his glass against hers and they both took long, healthy swallows. The wine tasted cheap, but had a clean enough finish as it rushed down to warm her belly. She loved wine in that way; it did slow, sophisticated things to the bloodstream, just as potent without all the rage and fire of liquor.
“How bad was the scene at Hamilton House?” she asked, curious now that the crisis was over.
“Typical kid shit. Kegs, cups everywhere, loud music. Lots of making out and pretending they’re adults.”
“My sister…” She almost didn’t want to ask.
“She was standing with her shithead boyfriend when I found her.” So not locked in some sort of amorous embrace, thank God. “He tried to give me some shit, but it wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged.
“Jesse’s such a little prick,” she muttered.
“And probably has one, too,” Aidan said with a quick grin. “The stunted ones are always the ones with something to prove.”
She snorted. “That’d be Jesse. Was his dealer there?”
Something shifted in him, some internal tightening that sent his eyes skittering across the yard again. “I didn’t find him, if he was. I got Erin and got out.” His gaze came back. “We called in a favor with Fielding and had him come break things up.”
“Sergeant Fielding?” The man wasn’t the chief of police, and wasn’t even a detective, but he’d always seemed to have a special hatred for the Lean Dogs. She’d spotted him moving around the Dartmoor lot on more than one occasion.
“Yeah.” Aidan grinned. “In case you ever wondered, having a cop owe you favors is fucking awesome.”
“Why does he owe you guys?”
Another shrug and another evasive glance. “Helped him out a while back.”
“Ah.” But she had no idea what that had entailed. Maybe she didn’t want to.
“Who’s Doug?” he asked, and the question took her off guard.
“What?”
There was nothing vague about his eyes now, as they came to her face. “Who’s Doug?” he repeated. “You mentioned him, before. You said something once about him taking you to dinner at that steakhouse place.”
Ah, yes. She had mentioned him, that afternoon Aidan had come to Ava’s house seeking dating advice. He’d been taking Tonya out that night. Her stomach soured immediately at the thought.
She must have made a face, too, because he said, “What?”
“Nothing.” There was no way she was letting Tonya interfere with this evening. This was her time. Their time. “Doug. Right.” She regrouped. “He’s a colleague from work. He teaches English Language Studies.”
There was a note of aggression in his voice when he said, “Is he your boyfriend?”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “What?”
“It’s not funny.” Now he sounded wounded. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No,” she said, still laughing. “We’ve been out a few times, but decidedly not.”
“Do you want him to be?”
“What? No, Aidan.” She realized she needed to get her chuckling under control, because he was dead serious. She took a steadying sip of wine and schooled her features. “Don’t you think that if Doug and I wanted to be together, we would be?”
“I’ve got no idea.”
As attractive as she found too-cool-for-school, bad boy Aidan, jealous Aidan was pretty hot too.
“Remember that day you came to change my tire?” she asked, and he nodded. “Remember how I told you I didn’t want just anyone, but that I was looking for The One?”
“Yeah…”
“Doug’s a nice guy, and I’ve enjoyed our dinners, but he’s not The One.”
That seemed to brighten him. But then he said, “Did you sleep with him?”
She bit back a smile. “No.”
He nodded, and then went stiff all over. “Shit, you have…I mean…you’re not a…”
“I have,” she assured, “and I’m not a.”
He sagged back with obvious relief…only to tighten again. “Not anyone I know, though?”
“Do you want names?” she asked sweetly.
“Fuck no.”
There was no hiding her smile that time. “Why the sudden questions about my sex life?”
He was silent a beat, and met her gaze with a very direct, penetrating one of his own. “Because as soon as you figure your mom and sister are asleep, I want to be a part of it.”
Oh.
Oh.
Sam drained the rest of her wine in one long swallow. “I need a refill. You?”
He threw back the last of his and handed her the glass. His expression told her he knew she needed a minute to escape, digest what he’d said…and make a decision about it.
After she’d refilled the glasses, she stood at the counter, gripping the edge, listening. Sound of water through the pipes: Mom draining out her bath water. Otherwise it was quiet, save for the sluggish thump of her pulse in her ears.
I want to be a part of it.
There could be no mistaking his meaning. And she’d known already, the way he’d kissed her, looked at her. But it took things to a whole new level to hear him say it so bluntly. It took that tingle in her blood to a high-pitched, buzzing place. It intensified the throbbing between her legs.
“Last chance to back out,” she muttered to herself.
No way was that happening.
She felt the hot touch of Aidan’s eyes as she let herself back outside and pulled the door shut. The heat inside her intensified beneath their glow, and she was afraid if she looked at him, she’d blush herself to death.
His fingers lingered against hers as he took his glass back, warm and rough. A preview of what would come, when they touched all of her.
It washed over her suddenly, how stupid and wasteful all her blushing, nervousness, and embarrassment were. Why in the hell was she holding back? Worrying? Resisting?
What was wrong with her?
She took a long swallow of wine and folded herself down into Aidan’s lap, legs hooked over his knees, cuddling up against his chest.
His arms went around her immediately, one hand finding the back of her head, angling it so he could kiss her. He tasted like wine, now, and the rough pads of his fingers stroked at her cheek, the underside of her jaw.
She closed her eyes and kissed him back, hands exploring his musculature through his hoodie, wishing suddenly, fervently, that he was naked to her wandering fingers.
She’d changed before his arrival, and through the thin fabric of her leggings felt the warmth of his other hand as it moved up one thigh. Drew a pattern against her hip. And then slipped down between her legs.
It was electric. The unexpected heat and boldness, right there at the feminine heart of her, where she’d wanted him to be since she was old enough to understand her desire for him. He wanted her, and he was touching her; it was as simple and devastating as that.
She gasped against his mouth, and her thighs clenched together around his hand.
He breathed a rough laugh against her lips. “You like that?” he whispered.
“I want more of it,” she whispered back, spine arching.
“Then relax, baby.”
She did, and he eased her legs wider, arm dropping around her waist to hold her steady in his lap as his fingers began a delicate probing. Down the seam of her leggings, and then back up, finding her clit through the thin screen of fabric, and settling there when her hips jerked in response.
“I can feel how warm you are,” he murmured, and she pressed her face into his neck, breathing shallowly. She felt the wetness bloom between her legs, felt each exquisite pass of his fingertip.
“You’re good at this,” she said, and he chuckled.
He turned his head and kissed the exposed curve of her shoulder, where her sweater was sliding down. “I want you naked,” he said, and pressed her clit with his thumb.
Forget want, she had to have it at this point.
Sam sat up, forcing him to pull back. She loved the slightly-glazed sheen of his eyes, the way he was breathing just a little too fast. She kissed him, really kissed him, flirted between his lips with her tongue.
When she pulled back, she said, “Come inside with me, Aidan.”
No need to tell him twice.
He scooped her up into his arms as he stood, and it was like hitting the bottom of a roller coaster, her stomach falling out as she was swept up in his strong embrace. It made her feel feminine and special, and for reasons she didn’t want to think about, it made her want to cry, a little bit.
Instead, she laughed breathlessly, and turned the doorknob when they reached it.
He heeled the door shut behind them and started to charge through the kitchen.
“Wait,” she said, “I gotta lock it.”
He set her down with a groan – wasn’t that disappointing, being on her own two feet again – and she turned the deadbolt, spun back around to face him…only to be pressed back against the wood panel, his body covering hers, pinning her in place.
He ducked his head and kissed her again, a hot, lingering kiss that made her legs weak. She didn’t realize where his hands had gone until she felt her sweater drawing upward.
Aidan pulled back and she lifted her arms, allowing him to take the sweater free. She had no idea where he tossed it, didn’t care. She was wearing a thin, worn white lace bra, the comfy one she wore for lounging around the house, and his hands went to it, covered her. She stood up on her toes, leaning into the touch, watching as he hooked his thumbs in the cups and drew them down in one fast, efficient movement that freed her breasts.
Her nipples were already erect, straining pink buds that tightened further as the air hit them, drawing up painfully.
He murmured a wordless sound and took the round weights in his hands, shaped and petted them.
Sam’s head kicked back against the door, chest surging forward. More, she wanted even more.
And he gave it to her, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth, suckle at it, rasp it with his tongue.
She speared her hands through his hair, felt the delightful glossy thickness of his curls. The top of his head smelled of smoke and spicy masculine shampoo, and she dropped her face into it, holding him to her, as he moved to her other nipple, tugged at it with his teeth.
“Aidan.” A protest, a plea, she didn’t know which.
He straightened, his breath striking harshly against her face, and gathered her close, picked her up again. “Your room’s upstairs?”
She circled his neck with her arms and held on tight. “Yeah. Turn right when we get there.”
He moved quickly and quietly through the darkened first floor, managing not to bump into anything. Wet from his mouth, her nipples were cold now, as air passed across them, and she shivered. His arms tightened in reaction, and he started up the stairs.
She had a fleeting worry, when they reached the upstairs hallway, that they might encounter her mom or sister, and there would be no explaining what was going on. Here she was, in Aidan’s arms, her tits hanging out. There was no way to shrug that one off.
But then Aidan turned right and she pushed the thoughts aside.
Her room was small, but tidy as always, everything put in its proper place, the bed made. The lights were off, but the blinds were open, slatted fingers of moonlight striping the comforter, highlighting exactly where he needed to go.
Aidan took the time to ease the door shut and thumb the lock before he carried her to the bed and lowered her down to the mattress, joining her there, settling above her.
He lingered, braced over her a long moment, and she could just see the shine of his eyes as they tracked down her body and back, moving over every inch. His teeth flashed white as he grinned. “You’ve got great tits,” he said, and then returned to them with his mouth.
“Oh.” More of his gorgeous hair sliding between her fingers. More wet suction at the aching tips of her breasts. She lifted into him, as he suckled her, filled with a trancelike joy that this was her, and Aidan, and her bed, and this was happening.
He moved lower, mouth skimming to her ribs, her belly, and pressed warm, soft kisses. Circled around her navel with his tongue.
His hands hooked into the tops of her leggings, catching her panties too, and she lifted her hips as he drew them down, all the way off her bare feet. He was looking at her, she knew, and she sat up, unsnapped her bra, and tossed it off the side of the bed.
“Sam,” he said, and she lifted her head to look at him.
He was close, kneeling on the bed in front of her, his face in hers, his breath fanning across her lips. “Take your glasses off,” he urged, voice heavy and tender. “I don’t wanna break them.”
She bit at her lip. “You get naked first. I don’t want to miss that.”
“Yeah.”
She leaned back and braced herself up on her hands, and Aidan got to his feet, and started shucking clothes. He was in layers: hoodie, long-sleeve, wifebeater. The half-light made it all the more spectacular, the way the shadows filled deep grooves between the harshly carved muscles of his upper body. And his gorgeous mosaic of tattoos – leaping and jumping as he reached to unbuckle his belt. Sam wanted to trace each one with a fingertip, follow its contours, touch her tongue to them, learn their stories.
Later. She’d have time for that later, because now…
He kicked off his boots, and then ditched his jeans and boxers, stepped out of them. The ink ended in a few trailing loops just above his hips, and even in the dark, she could see the tan lines, the way his legs were a shade or two paler. The furring on his lower belly and around his sex was as wild as that on his head, and she wondered if it would feel the same to her fingers. His cock was at full attention, and the size gave her a moment’s pause, a fast beat of uncertainty.
She was nothing like the girls he normally did this with. What had she been thinking?
He reached down and extracted his wallet from his jeans, pulled something from it, and then climbed onto the bed with her, nudging her legs apart, kneeling between them. He was hot-skinned and dark-smelling, all close and naked like this. Her pulse skittered, and she felt the response in her sex, the clenching, the slick wetness.
“Here, baby.” With the most careful of movements, he reached forward and pulled her glasses off.
Her vision blurred, and Aidan became a landscape of shadows, his features indistinct. She made a reflexive grab, hands latching onto his biceps, and she heard the soft clink of her frames settling on the nightstand.
He stilled. “How much can you see?”
She took a deep breath. “Not a lot. It’s worse the farther away something is.”
His hands landed on her hips and he pulled her in tight to him, until she felt the hot, unmistakable touch of his cock against her thigh. “I’ll have to stay real close then,” he said, voice husky.
One hand skimmed up her body, feathering across her belly, her breast, pushed her hair back and cupped the side of her face. His face came into perfect focus the moment before he kissed her and her eyes fluttered shut.
Kissing was different, when you were both naked. There was something shocking and intimate about the way their tongues danced together when there was nothing but a few inches of air separating what they really wanted.
Sam put her arms around his neck and closed the distance.
Skin to skin, and the fuse was struck.
Sam hadn’t realized just how patient he was being until all of a sudden he wasn’t. He laid her back flat on the bed, settled between her legs, propped himself above her on one arm.
He sucked in a fast breath.
“What?” she asked.
“Bad shoulder. Don’t worry about it, it’s worth it.”
He kissed her again. And his hand went to her sex.
She was beyond all modesty, lifting her hips into his touch as he stroked her slippery skin, entering with one, and then two fingers. She’d been living like a nun, overworked, overtired – it wouldn’t take much more than this. A little more pressure from his thrusting fingers, a little pass of his thumb across her clit. She breathed in ragged gasps, and her fingernails were sunk in his bare shoulders. A little more, a little more…
“God,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
But then he withdrew.
“Aidan,” she hissed in protest.
His laugh was almost soundless, a breath. “You’ll be alright, baby,” he whispered. “Promise.”
She heard the condom open, heard the comforter rustle as he shifted. He was too indistinct, without her glasses, for her to enjoy the show, but she knew what was coming, and put her arms around him as he settled over her once more.
It was his fingers first, opening her. And then the blunt head of his cock. And then…
He filled her with one fast thrust, and she knew she hadn’t been prepared.
It was too much.
It was everything.
He held still at first, as she adjusted, like he knew she needed a moment to reconcile that it was him inside her, that her fantasy had finally unfolded.
But then he said, “Shit,” against her neck, and she realized how harsh his breathing was, how tense he was in her arms and between her thighs.
“Aidan?”
He made a pained sound in his throat; his breath rushed across her skin. “Shit,” he repeated. “I was gonna…and I usually…and you haven’t…but shit, baby, I’ve gotta move.”
That strain in him? The strain of holding back.
Sam grinned in disbelief and bit her lower lip, staring up at the formless expanse of her ceiling. “Aidan,” she said, carefully, “are you saying you’re too…close…to make this last?”
“Yeah,” he panted. “That’s what I’m saying.” A spasm went through him, every muscle clenching. “Ah, fuck.”
She would never have guessed this, and she loved it.
Sam pressed her breasts up into his chest and let her hands trail slowly down his back – all his sleek, muscled back, imagining she could feel the patterns of his tats – to the round hard curve of his ass. She dug her fingertips in and cocked her hips in unmistakable invitation to do his worst.
“Aidan,” she repeated, and it almost sounded like a command.
He growled against her neck, and he moved. Holy hell, did he move. It was more powerful and feral than she’d imagined, and even though she wasn’t close at the outset, the sheer overwhelming sensation of him rooting so deeply inside her brought her almost, almost, almost…
He bit her when he came. She felt his teeth in her shoulder.
He was a marvel on top of her, one hundred percent animal, his slick chest pressing against hers as he tried to catch his breath, hips still churning slowly, like little aftershocks, his weight depressing the mattress all around her.
Sam could hear no sounds in the house save for those they made, breathing, the covers rustling.
Finally, Aidan withdrew and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him and bundling her close. “You didn’t come.”
Up close like this, she could see every detail of his face in the moonlight, the stubble, the shadows beneath his eyes, the little scar along his jaw she wanted to know the origins of. No, she hadn’t come, but she’d expected a moment of oh damn, what did I do? Instead, she felt peaceful, if not a little internally frustrated.
It felt…very important, special and right that Aidan was here with her like this.
“You know what I would tell you, if you were one of my students?”
“Hmm?”
“Keep trying until you receive the desired result.”
He grinned. “Gimme a sec, sweetheart, and I’ll try your damn brains out.”