Aaron

---

I had no idea what I’d been thinking.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. My brother would say I hadn’t been thinking, something he accused me of far too often for my liking. But that wasn’t true either.

What I had been thinking was that I needed a way to wipe the silent smirk off Cree’s face. What I’d been thinking even more was that I wanted us on even footing, needed her to be as wound up, as bothered, as I was.

Kissing her had seemed like a brilliant idea, one of my best ever.

And, if I looked at the surface, it had been.

I had gotten my desired results.

The expression on her face, one of softness, compliance, passion, was different than any I had ever seen before. It was also sincere, something that was obvious, something that for once she didn’t try to hide.

And that superiority, the smugness, that I despised so much had been nowhere in sight.

In fact, she looked at me with something like awe in her expression, an emotion I had seldom seen from her, had never seen when it came to me.

So I had gotten what I had wanted.

Had gotten so much more.

But maybe I hadn’t completely thought that through.

Because as much as that kiss had changed Cree, it had also changed me.

Even now, my hands ached to touch her again, feel her soft fullness against them.

My lips tingled with the desire to touch her skin, taste her on my tongue.

All of me was ready for her, wanting her in a way that was so intense it made it difficult to breathe.

So while I had gotten under Cree’s skin, had managed to get past her facade, she had done much the same thing.

And I didn’t like it.

But as much as I didn’t like it, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting more.

I told myself this was simply a reaction to the moment ending prematurely. Was convinced that if that interlude had been allowed to come to its natural conclusion, my sanity, my calm, both of which had been shaken, would return to equilibrium.

I heard the janitor’s cart, again felt a moment’s lamentation.

I’d never know.

Much as Cree had a few minutes ago, I gathered my belongings and decided to head home. We hadn’t gotten anywhere during the day, and I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere tonight.

My ordinary impulse would be to stay, fight through, push aside all of the emotions and focus on work if only to prove that she didn’t have any power over me. But I also knew when to admit defeat, and this was one of those times.

I could stay, tough it out, but being in this room only reminded me of her, and I knew there was no way she would stray from my thoughts, at least not tonight.

So I gave up the battle and walked to my car.

Given the late hour, I would have expected some tiredness, something, but instead I felt energized, wired almost, and I knew exactly why.

The impulse to find her, finish what we had started was almost irresistible. It was also incredibly dangerous, a tempest that I had unleashed without knowing the effect it would have on me.

Still, through some feat of strength, I managed to ignore that impulse and instead made my way to my gym.

The place was pretty much empty given the late hour, something I was grateful for.

If all else failed, a workout was a surefire way to find some elusive calm.

Five miles later, and that calm was nowhere to be found.

For the second time that night, I admitted defeat and made my way to my home.

My body was weary, but my mind was still wired, focused on one thing and one thing only: her.

As I went through the motions of parking, entering my penthouse condo, doing a quick check of email, Cree was never more than a thought away.

And even as I went through those motions, willing myself not to think of her, I couldn’t ignore the commentary in the back of my mind, the thoughts that ran through my head on what seemed to be an inexhaustible loop.

Check my email, feel a crushing sense of disappointment that a message from her, always terse, never personal, was absent.

Walk to the fridge, drink water, think about how the cool, refreshing liquid reminded me of her. How kissing her, even in that tumble of emotion had been refreshing, energizing.

Drop down and do push-ups in an attempt to rid myself of some of the errant energy. Instead think of how soft her body felt against my hands, how I wanted to explore every inch of her.

I gave up in frustration and headed for the bathroom, finally deciding to give in.

As the scalding water poured over my body, I tried to stop my hands as they reached for my cock. In an instant, I was hard again, my own hand a poor substitute for what I wanted, but the only thing I had.

I braced myself against the wall, everything seeming to fade except the memory of her, the way she had tasted, the way she felt against my hands, the neediness she stirred in me.

As I stroked myself, I imagined her doing so, shuddered at the thought of her soft, surprisingly feminine hands on my cock, stroking me just to the edge but not pushing me over.

Remembered the way her breath had hitched when I’d first kissed her, the way her response had been instantaneous, unabashed.

Imagined how it would be between us without the burden of all the years of history.

Aaron.

I knew it was my imagination, but the thought of her soft voice whispering my name, not in anger, not in annoyance, but in passion, was enough to send me over the edge.

My cock hardened even further, my balls drawing up tight to my body as my cum exploded out of me.

The climax was so powerful I fell slack against the wall, unable to hold myself up against its strength, part of me feeling an instantaneous relief, the rest of me feeling empty, bereft, because she wasn’t here.

My breath finally returned, my heart again beating normally, I made my way out of the shower and into bed.

I couldn’t let that happen again, but as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if I’d be able to resist.

---

Cree

---

By the time I got home, I had more than halfway convinced myself that the kiss had been some kind of fevered dream that I should chalk up to overwork.

Of course, the instant I closed my front door, leaned against it, that ridiculous thought faded.

There was no way my imagination could have conjured something like that.

As I leaned back against the door, my breath coming out even, though my mind was whirling, I thought of the reasons why.

My mother had always said that I had a bit of an overactive imagination, but as I had gotten older, I’d tamed that down. I still retained some elements of it, but even at its most overactive, my mind couldn’t have dreamed of something like Aaron kissing me.

First off, he was Aaron.

And I was me.

That meant so many things, things I tried not to think about but that I couldn’t deny.

He was a prince, rich, gorgeous, beloved.

I was just a lawyer, smart, respected by colleagues who cared to pay enough attention, but nothing more than that. I was also not gorgeous, was pretty plain if I was being honest.

It used to hurt me to acknowledge that, but not anymore. And besides, there was something to be said for recognizing yourself for who and what you were, and that was something I did.

So yes, while I was more than aware of my own merits, recognized that I had more than enough to offer, I had no allusions about either my looks, or my desirability.

But Aaron, freaking perfect Aaron Sarda, his Royal Highness, Prince of Medina, would never look at me twice.

Even if I had been a gorgeous, ravishing beauty, one of the sort that would catch Aaron’s attention, there was the not small fact that I hated him, and he returned the feeling.

He wasn’t as obvious about it as I was, probably a result of all those years of prince school, or wherever they sent people like him to learn manners, but that he wasn’t always obvious about it didn’t change the truth of the matter.

And the truth of the matter was that I was not one of Aaron’s favorite people.

I didn’t go out of my way to be, something that probably only added to that effect.

But the bottom line was, he respected my intellect, something I made damn sure he and everyone else around me did, but he certainly didn’t like me as a person.

I pushed away from the door, that realization making me feel more than a little bit sad, which was something I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge.

As I moved around my house, dropping my briefcase and keys, pausing long enough to have a quick drink of water, and then peeling out of the day’s clothes, I thought about that, and thought about him.

He was probably in some fabulous apartment, living it up, maybe laughing at my expense.

That thought gave me pause, but I pushed it away, refused to engage with it, telling myself that whatever Aaron was doing, thinking, was no concern of mine. Pretty words that did nothing to dislodge him from my mind. So instead of denying reality, I went back to trying to figure out what had happened.

There was no doubt that I was anything but suitable, not at all a person Aaron would kiss, but the fact was, he had.

Even if I had wanted to deny that reality in my mind, I wouldn’t be able to. Because he had, and every marrow of my being, every cell in my body, everything knew that.

Perhaps it would have been different if the kiss hadn’t been quite so devastating, but it had been, and that left me no way to deny it, no option to try to rationalize it.

Instead, I was stuck trying to understand it.

Trying to figure out Aaron’s motives, thinking about Aaron at all, was not one of my favorite pastimes, but it beat the idea of having to deal with my own emotions, my own reactions.

That was something I definitely wasn’t ready to face, so thinking about him was my best, only, option.

He didn’t want me.

Despite the passion of the kiss, I knew that to be one hundred percent true.

Which left me with only one option.

Aaron had viewed that kiss as something beneficial to him.

As I let that thought sink in, the truth of it became more and more apparent.

In fact, the truth of it was inescapable.

I had been pushing Aaron, and Aaron didn’t like to be pushed.

The only thing he could do was push back, and rather than meeting me on a particular field of play, he had taken an entirely different approach.

In some ways I respected that. After all, in advocating for my clients, I tried to be unpredictable, do the thing that would get the results I was seeking, even if it wasn’t predictable.

So that he had taken a similar tack was something I should appreciate, something that deep down, I supposed I did.

But I also acknowledged that that hurt, and more than a little.

He didn’t owe me anything, and I didn’t want anything from him. But even knowing that, believing it with every fiber of my being, there was something…painful about realizing that that kiss had only been Aaron using a tool in his arsenal.

It didn’t mean anything, couldn’t mean anything, and I certainly didn’t want it to mean anything. I told myself that over and over again, refused to allow any other thought to even enter my mind.

But while I knew that, accepted it on a fundamental level, I still couldn’t shake the little stab of pain at the thought of Aaron’s kiss simply being a means for comeuppance.

I didn’t put anything past him, but still, it stung.

My reaction was the real issue, but I refused to think about that fact, and instead focused on him.

Decided that the kiss between us had been spectacular, explosive, so much more than.

Also decided that it had been underhanded.

My mind latched onto that thought as though it were the last life raft on the boat. And I held it, refused to let it go.

Yes, I had been going out of my way to make things difficult for him, had been eager to push him until he realized that he didn’t want to put up with me, that he needed to be gone.

But my play, while rough, had been fair.

His had not.

As I threw on my pajamas, an oversize T-shirt and cotton shorts, not the thousand dollar silk nightie that I knew Aaron would appreciate, I could feel the comforting righteous anger beginning to stir.

Aaron had gone out of bounds, and though I had reacted to it, that didn’t matter.

What mattered was that this was on now.

He thought a stupid kiss from a prince would through me off my game, get me out of my groove, make me pliable.

I laughed out loud, the sound low but still filling my dark bedroom.

That was a funny habit of mine, laughing out loud when I was alone. I also talked to myself sometimes, something that somewhat embarrassed me, but was one of the little quirks that made me who I was.

I turned over, considering that for a moment.

Who I was. I knew who I was, and most times liked who I was, but I’d always had a hard time letting others in. I wasn’t sure why. I’d come from a great home, and my parents loved me with all of their hearts. But for some reason I’d always had a little sense of insecurity, uncertainty.

Perhaps it was because of my looks, or more accurately my weight. Outside of a few negative comments, I hadn’t been teased much, but I’d always had mixed feelings about it where I felt simultaneously invisible and conspicuous. It was a strange combination, something that kept me off balance.

The only place I didn’t feel that was at work. When I was younger, it had been school. I’d excelled at intellectual pursuits, and the moment I’d figured out that I could shine there, I had run with it. I knew I put far too much of my self-image and self-worth into work, into being perceived as smart, but it was the only thing I’d ever been more than average at, and I needed that crutch.

So in a lot of ways, this competition, and yes, even obnoxious Aaron, was a good thing. This would be an opportunity to test myself, remind myself that I did have something to offer, and that it would have the added benefit of giving me a chance to put Aaron in his place made it all the better.

I sank down into my mattress, feeling content.

I’d thought the night would be tumultuous, one where sleep would be difficult to find, but the exact opposite was true.

Aaron had thrown down the gauntlet, and I was never one to pass up a challenge.

I needed to be rested, and if Aaron wasn’t going to play fair, I didn’t have to either.

A smile still on my face, I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts swirling with excitement about what was to come.