“Look, I’m flattered you called me. But…” Bring on the sagely advice of Bernard. “It’s not me you want telling you everything will be okay.”
“Nobody can replace you.”
“I know. Be happy that I’m willing to share you.” I smiled. Bernard might be the healthiest relationship I had. But perhaps it was time to change that. Eyeing my phone, I watched as the three dots appeared as Aiden replied.
“Thanks, Poppa Bear.”
He swore as he dropped the phone, the video cutting out as it struck the floor. I watched my phone as the dots continued flashing, wondering if Aiden was writing a novel.
A knock sounded from the door next to my couch. It was too late for company. The suit flashed, swallowing my briefs and t-shirt. It’d be hard to explain if it was Ms. Zanella knocking on the wrong door again.
As I moved to the door, I looked at the phone again, watching it like a hawk. I leaned in, putting my eye against the peephole. I feared a villain had followed me home, but it was worse, much worse. Aiden scowled at the door, holding up his phone.
Before I could argue with the semi-sentient costume, it vanished back into my skin. At least it knew the difference between Aiden and a supervillain.
I removed the bolt and opened the door. I eyed myphone again, trying to make sense of what was happening. Aiden reached into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out his phone. He held up his finger before punching away at the keys. With a slight blip, he nodded his head in my direction.
My phone beeped.
A: It sounded like you needed a hug.
I nodded.
Aiden pushed his way inside, kicking the door shut. One hand snaked behind my back while the other pulled my head to his shoulder. I might be a few inches taller, but as he tightened his hold, he felt like—home. Those limbs, bulging with muscle, had a power of their own. I let out a long sigh, relaxing my shoulders as I rested hands on his hips.
Kissing the top of my head, he didn’t say a word. Bernard would have talked me off a cliff, helping me wrangle in that part that always wanted to lash out at the world. Aiden, on the other hand, didn’t offer words to shape my frustration. Holding me, the frustration, the anger in the pit of my stomach, it couldn’t compete with the comfort.
Here. Now. I grasped the meaning of peace.
“Will you stay?” The words shook as I spoke, not from fear, but from admitting a desire that had nothing to do with my penis. The silence carried on long enough that Iworried I had said something wrong. Pulling back, I studied his face.
Aiden’s eyebrow raised dangerously high on his forehead. “Oh, you wanted me to say something.” He leaned in and kissed my nose. “Come on, tough guy, it’s your turn to be the little spoon.”
And just like that, my last bit of resistance melted away.
2:13 a.m.
The moon cast a soft light through the bedroom window, giving just enough light to make out the television on my bureau. I should be fast asleep. But the longer I stayed awake, the longer I got to experience this burly man pressed against my back. Each time he exhaled, a stream of warm air worked down my spine. His leg twitched, snaked in-between mine and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night.
Aiden’s hand worked its way along my stomach, sliding under my arm. His fingers slid along my chest hair before he tightened his grip, squeezing me. I don’t know if there was a way for more skin contact, but as he lazily kissed between my shoulder blades, I wanted to find out.
“Do you ever sleep?” The poor guy suffered through my tossing and turning. He deserved a medal.
“Not when there is a handsome man poking me in the back.”
“You keep backing up. He’s got his own agenda.”
I rolled onto my back and, without missing a beat, he threw a leg over me and nestled his head on my shoulder. It had been a long time since this piece fit into my puzzle.
“Next time, I drug you.”
I kissed the top of his head.
“I don’t want to interrupt this moment…” Well, that was never the start of a pleasant conversation. “But I’ve had something on my mind. One of those?—”
“Just ask.”
His pointer finger circled around my stomach, barely touching the skin. If he wanted to ask tough questions, he had done a terrific job of luring me into a sense of security.
