Claire
Aiken opened his door and said he’d be right back, told me to make myself comfortable. My mind was a whirling top of thoughts. The night thundered through my brain. I’d never had someone lay themselves on the line for me. Aiken had. He’d taken something so painful and made it beautiful. He’d inserted himself into my memories of Abby without steamrolling over them.
I’d never, ever had that from anyone.
I felt warm all over from his actions, not his words, or lack thereof.
Five minutes later, Aiken walked in with Smitty. My thoughts still whirring, I was sitting upright on the couch watching the news, unable to relax.
“That doesn’t look comfortable to me.”
I wanted to make sure this whole night wasn’t a dream.
Smitty stood on his hind legs and kissed my face, and I suddenly realized it wasn’t.
Tonight was mine.
“That’s my job, buddy.” Aiken pulled Smitty off me. “Come on, I’m going to have a cigar. We need to unwind. You want a glass of wine? Scotch? A cigarette?”
“Wine sounds good…”
“You got it. Lay back, will ya? You’re making me tense.”
I watched his ass, firm in tight black trainer pants, and tried to settle back into the couch. Smitty helped himself to getting comfortable and leaped up next to me. I found myself mindlessly petting his back, and I was pretty certain it was more for me than him.
Back with drinks in hand, Aiken grabbed the flannel blanket off the back of the couch and tossed it over his shoulder. “Let’s roll,” he said. He flicked the door open, placed the drinks on the side table, and pulled me into his lap in the lounger. “Lean back.” I did as I was told. Grabbing the drinks, he handed one off and said, “Cheers.”
After a long gulp of his scotch, he lit his cigar and took a puff, blowing his smoke to the side.
“Look at us,” I said. “Two secret smokers and runners. What are the chances?” I hid behind teasing, the moment too precious and real for me to handle.
Tobacco mixed with nutmeg floated in the air, and I breathed it in. “The smoke doesn’t bother me. Smells like you. All male.” Still trying to be light.
I sipped my wine, allowing it to take the chill out of my veins.
“Do you want me to be female?” His mouth tickled my hair as he spoke, and I twisted in his arms.
“No, I don’t,” I laughed. “I don’t want you to be anything other than you. I never imagined this…for me. Any of this. Shit, I couldn’t help not diving into the heavy. I was trying to be fun.”
“Give me your wine.” He grabbed it and put it on the table, stubbed the cigar on the deck, and brought his mouth down to meet my own. As soon as our lips met, I couldn’t help the groan from deep in my throat. Aiken answered with a growl, sifting his hands in my hair, turning me all the way on top of him, the blanket twisted tight around us, my soft meeting his hard. “I want all your heavy, Richards.”
We stayed, kissing under the stars, until my nose was too chilled. “Come on.” Aiken squeezed my behind, and I stood.
Inside, he shut the door with his boot before kicking them both off and flicking the lock.
“Strip,” he demanded, shrugging off his black hoodie and cape, tearing off his black long-sleeved shirt.
“Here?”
“Uh-huh, here.”
He stood before me, still-tanned skin, six-pack on display, watching me with intent.
Unzipping my jacket, I let it fall off, leaving me in a white shirt and black leggings.
“Hurry,” Aiken commanded, shoving his dark jeans down his thighs, kicking off his socks. He wore only a pair of black boxer briefs, his light trail of hair leading the way from his navel until it disappeared in his underwear. “I see you looking…want to see it all? Get naked, Richards.”
I tugged my shirt over my head, my hat long ago abandoned in the car, my hair falling all around my face—hopefully hiding my girl-like blush.
