Years had passed and that boy still had him in a chokehold. He stood, moving to the bar to refill his drink. He’d just set down the decanter when his office door opened.
No knock.
Aiden.
He stood in the doorway, barefoot in a pair of faded jeans and a henley the color of his eyes, his long hair falling into his eyes and a couple of day’s scruff on his chin and cheeks. Fora split second, Thomas worried he’d drank too much—that this was some alcohol-induced fantasy—but he wasn’t nearly wasted enough for that.
“Aiden?”
“What? You don’t recognize me?” he asked, sounding somewhere between sulky and irritated.
It was as sexy as it was adorable. Thomas had no gauge when it came to Aiden. Everything he did had a physical effect on Thomas. “I’m just surprised to see you.”
“You called me home. Asked me to help out Adam. Where else would I be? Did you want me to stay somewhere else? This is still my house, too. Isn’t it? That’s what you said. That I could always come home.”
This was why they couldn’t have a conversation. It was never about what it seemed like on the surface. Aiden was mad. He was so fucking mad at Thomas. He thought him a coward, thought he lacked the courage of his convictions. He wanted Thomas to love him so fucking bad, it bled from his pores and leaked into every word that fell from his lips.
It clawed at Thomas’s heart, shredding it bloody. Because he did love Aiden. Loved him in a way that would cause a rift in the family, that would threaten everything Thomas had spent his adult life building. Aiden was the dynamite that could cripple Thomas’s foundation.
“Of course, you can, Aiden,” Thomas said.
Thomas wondered if that would be the end of it—if he’d turn and walk away. Make the safe choice. They stared at each other for a long moment, Thomas’s heart lodged in his throat. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he turned, moving back to his office chair, needing a physical barrier between the two of them.
Aiden didn’t leave. He moved deeper into the room, fixing himself a drink without asking permission. He never askedpermission. He’d come into Thomas’s life almost an adult and had always acted as such.
That was the problem.
But Aiden was an adult now, closer to forty than thirty. But it didn’t fix anything. It just made it harder. He could no longer use age or lack of experience as an excuse. He was running out of ways to deflect Aiden’s advances. He was running out of strength.
Aiden didn’t go to the chair on the other side of Thomas’s desk, opting instead to walk around it to Thomas’s side, sitting himself directly in front of him, close enough for their legs to slot together, Thomas’s knees brushing against Aiden’s calves.
Shit.
Aiden stared at Thomas over the rim of his glass, his heated gaze screaming his intentions. Thomas needed to send him away. Needed to at least make him go to his room. But he didn’t. He found himself shifting slightly so Aiden’s calves were now brushing his thighs, the warmth bleeding through the fabric of their pants.
This was madness. It was torture. The sweetest agony being this close to the thing he loved most in the world, but knowing he could never have it. And Thomasdidlove Aiden. He loved him in a way no man should ever love a boy he’d adopted as a son. No matter the circumstances that had led them there.
Had Thomas loved him in this way as a sullen sixteen-year-old boy? No. But now? Now, he was a grown man, beautiful in every way, and each time they saw each other, he grew bolder, more determined to act on the feelings they both had but Thomas refused to acknowledge.
Usually, Thomas was the voice of reason. Usually, he pushed him away, sometimes physically. But he already knew if Aiden pushed even the slightest bit today, he would fold. He was weak; memories of his past had weakened his resolve, and made allof his logical reasons for staying away seem like petty excuses. Today, he was sad and drowning, and whenever things got to be too much, Thomas reached for Aiden, every fucking time, fair or not. When the world was threatening to swallow Thomas whole, Aiden’s voice was his lifeline. But it was usually on the phone, thousands of miles between them.
Aiden’s gaze dropped to their legs, squeezing slightly, then he took a long swallow of his drink before setting the glass down.
“So, you’re letting Adam keep this kid, huh?” Aiden said.
There were a million unspoken questions in that simple statement. Why him? Why did Adam get to be happy but not Aiden? Why couldn’t Thomas just give in to what they both wanted?
Thomas ignored what he was really asking, focusing on the surface question. “What do you think would happen if I told your brother no?”
“He’s not my brother,” Aiden said, almost like a reflex, then answered, “He’d go full scorched earth and ruin the whole family.”
Thomas nodded, expression grim. “Precisely. He told his brothers he’d burn the whole operation to the ground if I didn’t let him ‘keep’ him.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Aiden asked, the leg between Thomas’s starting to move slowly, in a tormenting caress that had him hardening behind his zipper.
Thomas fought to keep his breathing steady, fought to concentrate. “I should be furious. But after seeing the way your bro—Adam—interacts with the boy, how he seems to calm something in him, I am going to let it play out.”
“You realize his obsession is toxic, right? If Noah decides he wants out, Adam might actually harm him. Or himself. Or you.”
