He leans in. His mouth brushes mine, barely there, more breath than kiss. A whisper. A question. It steals every ounce of logic I’ve got left.
I give in.
I give in to his warmth. To the way his lips linger, patient and tentative like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to want this as badly as I do. We’re both trying not to cross a line we’ve already obliterated.
He pulls back just a fraction. His brow furrows, the only sign of uncertainty. If he’s giving me space to make a choice, I don’t need it. I already know what I want.
I reach up, my fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him back down to me. This time, there’s nothing tentative about the kiss. It’s all heat and need and everything we’ve both been holding back for too long. His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against the solid planes of his body.
“I want to stay,” I whisper against his lips, the words falling out before I can overthink them. I know what staying means tonight, and I want it. All of it.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Relief and desire flash in his eyes before he captures my mouth again. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine, and a soft sound escapes me. His hands tighten at my waist in response.
His lips trail a path along my jaw, down to the curve of my neck. I shiver.
That’s when it hits me. I’m not just interested in Aidan…I’ve already fallen. Harder than I’ve ever fallen for anyone.
I wasn’t supposed to crash into these feelings this hard, this fast. What if he leaves tomorrow and realizes this was all a mistake? Three weeks is a long time to think, to reconsider, tobuild walls back up. Aidan has walls like a fortress, and I’ve only just begun to see behind them.
Then Aidan’s hands slide up along my sides, his thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts, and suddenly, all my worries scatter.
twenty-five
LUCY
“Lucy, I need you to understand something.”
His voice is rough, scraped raw at the edges, his hands fixed at my waist. I nod, scarcely breathing, the pressure in my chest so tight it feels like my ribs are about to crack open.
His eyes search mine, and whatever he finds there makes his jaw flex. “I’ve been trying to go slow,” he says, quiet now, his thumbs brushing slow circles into my hips. “But once I have you like this, I won’t be able to pretend it’s anything less.”
I swallow, but it does nothing to ease the dryness in my throat. “I know,” I whisper, my voice so small it nearly disappears in the space between us. “I don’t want you to pretend.”
His hand slides up my back, spreading wide between my shoulder blades, drawing me flush against the heat of his chest. The air between us collapses.
His lips brush the edge of my jaw, just once. “You still sure?”
“Yes,” I breathe, no hesitation. “Please.”
That’s all it takes.
His mouth finds mine with all the reverence in the world. It’s like he’s memorizing every part of me, like he’s waited so long, and now that he has me, he’s going to take his time. His kiss is deep and claiming, but careful.
“Upstairs,” he commands.
When I nod, he takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. He leads me toward the staircase, each step causing the wooden stairs to creak beneath our weight, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet house. I’m painfully aware of Isla sleeping just down the hall, and Aidan seems to sense my thoughts.
“She sleeps like the dead,” he whispers, squeezing my hand reassuringly. “Nothing wakes her.”
His bedroom at the top of the stairs is simple. A large bed with dark sheets and a dresser, but I don’t have time to notice anything else as he guides me inside, closing the door with a soft click. He doesn’t immediately reach for me. Instead, he stands there, eyes drinking me in.
When he finally moves, it’s with purpose. His hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he leans down to kiss me, softly at first, then with growing intensity.
“I need to see you,” he murmurs against my lips, fingers finding the hem of my sweater.
