Aidan Read online

  Soon, we are pulling into the underground parking garage below some upscale condominiums. He parks in a spot near the elevator and gets out. Before I can find the door handle, he has it open and a hand on my arm to help me out. He closes the door and puts a hand on the small of my back, directing me forward to the elevator. Once inside, he presses the button for the tenth floor and settles back against the dark paneling of the compartment. The quiet is becoming unnerving, but I don’t attempt to break it. Naturally, he isn’t in the mood for chitchat after the day he’s had.

  We walk to the end of the hallway, and I see a door hidden away in a small alcove. He removes a key from his pocket, opens it, and then motions me forward. His home is modern with neutral colors, but the overstuffed furniture looks surprisingly worn and comfortable. This isn’t just a show place. Aidan lives and relaxes here. It also makes me wonder how many women he’s brought here, but I tamp down the jealousy that streaks through me. We’re not in a relationship, and I have no right to feel territorial. He tosses his keys and wallet on the granite bar area of the kitchen before walking over to a bar and picking up a bottle. He raises it in the air and says, “No need to dirty a glass. Want to join me, princess?”

  “Whatever you need,” I say softly, expecting him to take it to the sofa. Instead, he lowers himself to the floor and puts his back against the wall before unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. His eyes are on me as if waiting to see what I’ll do. Finally, I kick off my high heels and cross to him. I kneel down, take the bottle from his hands, and put it to my lips. The first sip burns like fire down my throat, and I wheeze, wondering what in the hell he’s drinking. He thumps me on the back as he chuckles. Then he pulls me down next to him, and we pass the bottle back and forth. It isn’t long before my head is spinning and we’re both giggling over absolutely nothing. Then something changes; I look over and ache at the tears I see running down his face. His laughter has turned to sobbing as the alcohol breaks his control. I crawl unsteadily over to him and get in his lap, wrapping my legs around him. I take his head in my hands kissing the trail of wetness streaking his cheeks.

  I have no idea how long we stay that way. At some point, I put my arms around his shoulders, and we lay our heads side by side. “Kara.” He sighs against me as a giant shudder wracks his body.

  “I’m here, baby,” I whisper, turning to kiss his neck. Then as if in slow motion, our clothes are off. How we manage that, I can’t say, but he’s pulling me back over his lap and impaling me on his hard cock. He’s not wearing a condom, and I can feel the difference immediately, but I let it go. I’m on birth control, and we had the discussion at one point about recent STD testing. I know Aidan would never lie to me about that. Our mating begins at a frantic pace but soon slows to a leisurely fucking that threatens to overwhelm my heart and body. Our lips cling to each other as our tongues glide wetly together. I’ve missed this. Him. He’s devouring me as if starved for my taste, and I’m right there with him. Our hands are moving, constantly touching and rediscovering. With each stroke of his fingertips, he leaves liquid fire behind.

  “You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” Somehow, the pause between each word makes his statement that much hotter. “I want everything you’ve got, princess. I’m going to own you, body and soul.” He thrusts his hips upward, pushing his cock to brush against my cervix. I wince at the brief stab of discomfort before the pleasure comes flooding back. Aidan Spencer has a big cock, and God, does he know how to work it. He pulls back slightly and lowers his hand between us, finding my clit easily. He rubs it firmly, and I see stars. I cry out in protest when his fingers move away to cover my pussy. “I own this, do you hear me? It’s fucking mine.” I nod my head because I would pretty much agree to anything at this moment with my orgasm so very close to the surface. He clucks his tongue before demanding, “Say the words, princess.” He’s stopped moving, and his cock is at a standstill buried deep inside me.

  “What do you want?” I cry out. I attempt to move my hips and gain the friction I need, but one hand locks me in place. “Aidan . . .” I whimper, trying to figure out why he’s denying us both.

  “Say you’re mine,” he hisses as I fidget against him. “Give me the words. I just—need them today.”

  Even though alarm bells are going off in my head and I know it’s wrong to pretend this is anything other than sex, I do as he asks. Hell, I’m not really lying. At this moment, I’ve never belonged to another man as much as I do him. So I give him what he wants. Lowering my mouth to his ear, I whisper, “I’m yours. I don’t want anyone but you.” He throws his head back, groaning my name, and then he’s fucking me hard. I can only grab his shoulders and hold on as he lifts me almost completely off his cock before slamming me back down. “Aidan! Oh, my God!” I’m screaming his name over and over as I come. My orgasm seems to have no end as I continue to spasm around his still-pumping cock. I’d have long since fallen over if not for his firm grip on me. I’ve no doubt I’ll be bruised and sore from this rough possession, but Aidan isn’t getting away without being marked either. My nails have scored gashes on his back and arms, and I’ve bitten his shoulders and neck countless times as if trying to consume him.

  Finally, when I’m so lightheaded and limp that I’m not sure I can take any more pleasure, I feel his warm seed shoot deep inside me and he yells my name on a hoarse shout.

  “Every time, princess. So good,” he says quietly.

  I expect him to pull away after that. To want some distance between us. Aidan was charmingly affectionate in our time together, but I wouldn’t really call it intimate, but for possibly a few occasions. Today is different, though. I wince a bit as he pulls his cock from me, and I feel the moisture begin to trickle out. He pulls me tighter and somehow finds his feet while balancing my weight against him. He walks through his home until we reach the bathroom. Still holding me, he sticks a hand into the oversize shower in the corner, turns both knobs, and then steps inside. Only then does he gently put me on my feet, while luckily keeping an arm around me until I’m steady. His eyes are hooded as he washes himself and then turns to do the same with me. It’s as if his mind is a million miles away, no doubt processing the last few days. Maybe my arrival too. There’s nothing sexual in his touch now; he’s focused on the task at hand and does it with brisk efficiency. I yearn to know how I can best care for him, yet at this moment, he needs to look after me. When we’re both clean to his satisfaction, he steps out and grabs a couple of towels from a nearby closet, wrapping one around his hips. He helps me out and carefully enfolds me in the other one, kissing me on the forehead as he does. “Come on, beautiful, let’s get you dry and then we’ll have a bite to eat.”

  He has me sit on the large vanity and dries my hair. I don’t know what to make of this Aidan, who seems intent on catering to my every need. Maybe he needs this busywork right now to take his mind off his loss. With that in mind, I don’t voice any objections as he leads me to the bedroom next and into a huge walk-in closet where he locates a T-shirt for me. He quickly dresses in a pair of basketball shorts and another T-shirt, and then we’re heading back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll make something for us?” I offer. I expect him to argue, but surprisingly, he goes to a barstool without complaint. It’s been five weeks, but preparing food for him in his kitchen feels normal. I pad around his luxury kitchen and take a moment to appreciate the array of granite and stainless steel. I wonder if he cooks a lot because he certainly has the best of everything here. I quickly wash my hands before I sift through the cabinets and come up with a box of spaghetti and a jar of gourmet marinara sauce. Perfect. Quick and easy. I put a pot of water on to boil and open the jar. I put the tip of my finger in and then stick it in my mouth. Bold flavors explode on my tongue, and I moan my approval.

  I startle when Aidan says, “You’re killing me over here, princess. If you don’t get that finger out of your mouth, you’ll be sucking something else pretty soon.” His eyes are on fire when I look
over at him, and I wonder how in the world he can want me again after just fucking me minutes ago. But I’ve learned that Aidan needs little to no recovery time, and he’s certainly never had a problem with admitting how much he desires me. I giggle and stick my tongue out at him before finding another pot for the sauce and dumping it in. He clears his throat then surprises me by saying, “Thanks for being here today, babe. You’ve no idea how much I needed it—and you.”

  My throat tightens, and my eyes water as his words wrap around me and squeeze my heart. This is a different Aidan than I knew before. He’s quieter, but somehow even more intense. Losing his mother has changed something fundamentally inside him, and I’m not sure what to make of it. “You’re . . . welcome,” I manage to stutter out. Then for some reason, I keep talking even though I try to tell myself to stop. “I wasn’t sure if I should come or not. I mean I know that what we had was like a beach fling or whatever the cool people are calling it these days, but we’re connected through our families so that makes us friends as well—I think. But I don’t want you to feel as if I’m stalking you or anything. I didn’t expect to pick up where we left off when I came back, so if you’re afraid of that, then don’t worry.” He gets off his stool and walks toward me. Actually, it’s more like stalking. He looks amused and something else I can’t define. And dear God, the verbal diarrhea just continues to dribble from my mouth. “Or I could just go right now. Wait, I’ll finish making you dinner since I said I would, but you must be ready to relax, and you probably don’t want to entertain.” I laugh, and it sounds horribly shrill and nervous as I add, “I don’t want to be that guest who came and didn’t know when to leave. No one wants to be—”

  His fingers clamp down on my lips, and weird shrieks escape as I still attempt to talk around them. “Baby—shut the fuck up.” He chuckles. “Do you realize that you haven’t taken a breath in at least two minutes?” He releases my mouth and gently moves me to the side so he can add the spaghetti to the now boiling water. Then he’s back, and his hands are on my hips. “Now, let’s get a couple of things straight, princess. I’m not your buddy or your friend. Truthfully, I don’t know what the hell I am. But I don’t want to fuck my friends or family so that means you’re neither. I want you here with me so don’t even think about leaving. We don’t need to have all the answers tonight or make this into something complicated.” He takes my face in his hands and drops a kiss on my mouth. “I just want to spend some time—with you. Let’s take it as it comes and see where we go. No running, no freaking out. Just two people enjoying each other. Can you do that, princess?”

  Even as I tell myself to make up some excuse and leave, I find my traitorous mouth murmuring, “Yeah, I can do that.”

  And that’s the moment that I’ll look back on. That one fleeting instance when I could have done the right thing, but I let my heart lead me astray. I convinced myself that he needed me for a little longer. Hadn’t he lost his mother? Weren’t friends supposed to be there for you no matter the cost? Yeah, I sold myself on every one of those sentimental pieces of drivel. And it would all come back to haunt me when the truth came out. But I couldn’t stop.

  It was already too late for me.

  I’d fallen for a man I barely knew, and the clock had been ticking down the time we had together since before our first kiss.

  aidan

  I can hardly believe Kara is here and sleeping soundly in my bed. Making my way up the aisle in the church carrying my mother’s body in that fucking cold metal box, I’d been as close to losing my shit in public as I’d ever been. I’d been seriously afraid I was going to have some kind of panic attack right there. My eyes had flittered around me, desperately seeking a diversion. At first, I had passed right over her. My mind sluggish and my thoughts scattered. Then something had penetrated the fog that surrounded me, and I’d turned my head, seeking her out once again. And there she stood staring at me in a rare, unguarded moment. Her eyes had been full of pain and emotion. She’ll never know how much it meant to me that she was there. Her very presence calmed and leveled me enough that I was able to carry on. I kept telling myself to just get through the rest of the service, and then I could find her and escape. And that’s exactly what I’d done.

  The night closes in around me as I think again about the last moments with my mother. She had died two days after our talk. I’d known in my heart that it was her final goodbye, even though other than her difficulty breathing, she’d seemed just like her old self. Somehow, she’d managed to conserve her strength for God knows how long to have that time with my father and me. I’d been on autopilot ever since. Arrangements were made and finalized. Friends and coworkers were in and out, and I said all the right things. I even joked around when inside I wanted to tell them to get the fuck out. Only Luc seemed to know what was simmering right below the surface. I could feel his understanding empathy. That much penetrated the protective haze I was hiding behind. He’d dealt with enough trauma in his life to understand that sometimes you just had to shut down or else you’d lose it.

  Dad was doing better than I would have expected. Although, I’m sure it’s hitting him about now that she’s never coming back. When someone dies, there’s so little time to dwell on your loss because you’re mired down in the details. Behind everything in life, there’s a business, and death is no exception. Services are rendered, and people have to be paid. I’d wager that the toughest time grieving people face is the week after the funeral. Then you’re finally alone, and there’s nothing left to do. People have moved on with their lives, and you’re left in an empty house with some leftover cake and a fuck load of memories. And very alone.

  I’m not sure that death is ever easy. Everyone assumes that they’ll live to a ripe old age. When your grandparents die, it’s upsetting, but you kind of expect it. What you don’t plan on is the suddenness with which someone you love can be wrenched from this world. Cassie’s death happened so quickly that it was over before I could even process it. I spent a year trying to figure out exactly what the fuck went wrong. It was senseless and downright horrifying. It was also an eye-opening look into how fleeting life can be. Before that, even with her living in a mental institution, I still thought I had all the time in the world to make things better. Yeah, not so fucking fast, said the universe. Want to know how small and insignificant you are in the scheme of things? Try to save someone you love.

  I liken someone attempting to beat cancer to pissing in the wind. All my efforts appeared to serve no purpose and to be absolutely pointless. Again, the grim reaper was just around the corner, and he doesn’t fucking fight fair. Hell, the battle was over before I even knew it had started. I guess I should be grateful that I had a few stolen moments in both instances that I’ll carry with me forever before they were gone. I’d been angry with God and the world when Cassie died. With my mom, I feel nothing but overwhelming sorrow. I never imagined a life without either one of my parents. They’d always seemed ageless to me. There’s also a healthy dose of guilt for the fact that I basically cut them out of my life for a year, and they loved me enough to give me that, even when she was sick. I want those days, weeks, and months back. What I wouldn’t give to walk in the door of my childhood home in the morning and hear her calling out to me. As their only son, I feel as if I’ve failed them both. And even though it’s too late to make it up to her, I vow that I will honor her wish of watching out for my father. It’s the only thing I can remember her ever truly asking of me. Plus, I’m pretty damn sure her promise of watching us from above is true. If anyone can manage that, it will be my mother. Heaven doesn’t know what’s in store for with Ginny Spencer in residence now.

  Kara mumbles something under her breath and burrows deeper under the covers. The moonlight shining in from the window makes her look like an angel. Her arms are wrapped around one of my pillows, and she’s snoring delicately. It amazes me how much I’ve come to care about her in such a short amount of time. The weeks apart hasn’t changed that. If anything, I feel
closer to her now. There’s been a shift in our relationship, and I can pinpoint the exact moment when I knew she felt it too. In the kitchen earlier when she’d been rattling on, and I’d said that I wanted to spend time with her and asked if she could give me that. Her first instinct had been to run. It was written all over her face. Hell, I’d even braced for the rejection. But she’d fought past whatever was holding her back and had agreed. After that, the tension had left her body, and for the first time since we met, she’d given me all of herself for the rest of the evening. I had no idea what would happen when we woke in the morning, but I’ll cross that bridge when I had to. The one thing I do know is that I plan to see where things go with her. I’d promised my mother not to close myself off, and since Kara is the only woman other than Cassie to ever make me feel, I can’t ignore the possibility of something there worth pursuing.

  With my mind now as tired as my body, I relax back into the bed and pull her into my arms. She wraps herself around me as if she’d been doing it for years, and I feel at peace for the first time in weeks as I drift away, lulled by the sound of her heart beating against mine.

  10

  Kara

  I’d argued, but Aidan insisted on dropping me off at my parents’ house. My mother had called that morning to let me know they’d arrived home during the night and were eager to see me. Pretty sure that translated into, “Someone told us you were all over Aidan Spencer at his mother’s funeral.” When he pulls into the circular drive and puts the car in park, I unbuckle my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride,” I say lightly with one hand already on the door handle.