Aiden was working up a sweat, his breath visible with every grunt. Thomas should have put real clothes on instead of staying in the flannel pajamas and long-sleeved shirt he currently wore. There was no way of hiding his very obvious arousal. Not after witnessing that level of exertion on Aiden up close and personal. He’d felt those straining muscles beneath his fingertips, knew the way Aiden’s teeth felt scraping over his skin a moment before he sucked on his neck, his jaw, his collarbones.
He closed his eyes, his fingers flexing, as memories overtook him. The taste of his lips, the rough whisper in his ear as he’d begged him not to say no. Just once.“Just one night.”And Thomas had given in, had been unable to refuse. Just one time. He’d told himself it might help. Just scratch the itch and get it out of their system. No matter how good Thomas was at lying to others, it never beat the lies he told himself.
Christ.
He forced himself away from the window and into the kitchen. On the counter, sat an omelet and a cup of what was likely now lukewarm coffee. Thomas spared another glance out the window, relieved he didn’t have a view of Aiden from there. He sat on a stool, taking a couple of sips of the mediocre coffee and forcing down half of the omelet with its rapidly congealing cheese.
When he finished what he could, he didn’t move, just sat, staring at nothing, quietly contemplating his options. Maybe he should call the whole thing off. Maybe he should go home, accept his fate. Surely, the blowback couldn’t be worse than this. Whatever punishment they doled out was bound to be quicker than this torture. When they found he’d broken the code, his children would kill him quickly and efficiently, executioner style.
Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they’d make him suffer. But nothing could be worse than this. Less than twenty-four hours with Aiden was agony. It was a Civil War doctor sawing at a soldier’s leg without anesthesia. But the masochistic part of Thomas liked it. Aiden was his most exquisite pain, and if they were together too long, Thomas would be infected once again until his need consumed him and he was feening like some kind of addict.
The sound of the screen door slamming shut dragged him from his thoughts. Aiden stormed past with an armful of logs, carrying them into the living room to the already full container. Thomas sat paralyzed, listening to the sound of wood hitting stone until Aiden returned.
He poured himself a cup of coffee from the near full pot then leaned against the counter, glowering at Thomas until he had no choice but to look away or be consumed by the flames of Aiden’s fury.
“Are you ready to start talking?” Aiden asked, like Thomas was some common criminal in an interrogation room.
He supposed he was. He forced his gaze upward until their eyes met. “About what?”
Aiden’s jaw clenched until Thomas swore he could hear his teeth grinding. “I’m not playing these games with you. I already have someone looking into your family’s deaths—”
That brought Thomas up short, a sudden terror shocking his nervous system and flooding him with adrenaline until he couldn’t help but say, “You what?”
Aiden’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He liked that he’d thrown Thomas, that much was clear. He shrugged, taking another casual sip of his coffee. “I have a detective friend. She’s getting me a list of people involved in the original investigation.”
Thomas felt dizzy. The doctor in him knew it was just his fight or flight instinct kicking in, but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. “What? Why? Why would you do that? Why would you involve strangers in family business?”
Aiden gave him an astonished look, like he couldn’t believe Thomas’s nerve. “Because you won’t fucking talk to me. Seems pretty obvious.”
Thomas shook his head. Why couldn’t Aiden understand? “I just asked for a little bit of time to…gather my thoughts. I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you. You know how dangerous it is to get others involved in this. We can’t trust outside—”
“She’s not an outsider,” Aiden snapped. “Not to me.”
What the fuck did that mean? Was she… Did Aiden have a…girlfriend? Jealousy tore at him like the blades of a lawnmower until he was certain the tightness in his chest was blood pooling where his heart had been. He fought the urge to grab his chest, even though it felt a little bit like he was having a heart attack.
“Oh… I didn’t realize you were seeing someone,” Thomas managed, voice tight.
Aiden’s mouth fell open, then his face contorted into a look of disgust.
“You’re so fucking unbelievable,” he snapped, knocking his coffee cup into the sink with enough force to cause the handle to crack. “Are you seriously fucking jealous right now?Now? With everything that’s happening?”
Thomas shook his head before Aiden even finished, but he couldn’t stop the strained expression staring back at him in the distorted reflection of the toaster. “It’s not that. I—”
Aiden cut him off. “Right. Of course, it’s not that.”
Thomas’s head was spinning. Why was he trying to fight him over this? There was no winning. “I—”
Aiden thrust a finger in his direction. “I have the right to date whoever I want. That’s what you said. Remember? In the library that night? Before the sweat had even dried? You couldn’t wait to explain it away. To shove me out the door.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
Aiden ignored him. “You said you had no right to keep holding me hostage. That I was…free to be with whoever I wanted. That’s what you said you wanted, too. For me to be happy. For me to find someone who matters.”
“It wasn’t what I wanted. It was what needed to be done!” Thomas shouted, lurching to his feet, but he made no move to close the distance between them. He rubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck. You know that. You have to fucking know that. None of this is what I ever wanted for you. Not me, not us, not this fucked-up situation.”
Aiden’s lip curled at Thomas’s words. Fuck. That was not what he meant. God, he just kept getting it wrong with him. Every fucking time. Every conversation was a goddamn landmine.
“Oh, I know you never wanted us,” Aiden growled. “You’ve made that abundantly clear over and over again. Except when you can’t fucking take it anymore. Right? Except for when you’re drunk and lonely and tired and there’s nobody around to fill that giant fucking hole inside you. Nobody but me.”
