Later, I lie beside him, my head resting on his chest, my leg thrown over his, my body boneless. I’m a bowl of jiggly Jell-O, quaking and spent.
I’ve never felt so alive.
Gazing up at the ceiling, Aidan murmurs, “Need to ask you a question. And I need you to be honest when you answer.”
I wait silently. He didn’t give me permission to speak, and I’m still not really clear how and when all these rules of his apply, so I stay on the safe side and say nothing.
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “What are the chances of you getting back together with your husband?”
A sudden sharp jab of pain stabs me beneath my sternum. I squeeze my eyes shut against it. “Zero.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still wearing your wedding ring?”
I think about it for a moment. “I don’t really know. Habit, I suppose. Does it bother you?”
“Yes and no.”
He doesn’t explain himself further. I get the sense he’s waiting for me to say something, but I can’t be sure. “May I please ask a question?”
He murmurs, “Sweet bunny. You can always ask me anything.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because I’m not sure when we’re doing the permission thing and when we aren’t, and I don’t want to get into trouble.” I add more softly, “Or displease you.”
His groan is low. Pulling me closer, he kisses the top of my head.
“Kayla,” he whispers. “Everything about you pleases me.”
Snuggling closer to him, I smile. “You can see my problem, though, right? I mean, I don’t have any experience with this kind of thing.”
He rolls me onto my back and lifts up to an elbow, staring down at me with blazing intent.
“Me neither.”
I laugh right into his face. “That’s a total lie!”
“I wasn’t talking about sex.”
My laughter dies. Confused, I gaze up at him with knitted brows. “Then what are you talking about?”
He flattens his hand over my chest, right above my heart.
“This. Us. You and me. How it’s so easy. How it’s so simple. How it just feels right. But you’re still wearing your wedding ring, and you don’t feel comfortable kissing me in your house, and that tells me everything I need to know about where your head’s at. And I get it, I really do. Your whole life has been turned upside down. It’s understandable that you’re not ready for this.
“But I gotta be honest. I won’t be a rebound. I won’t be the guy you distract yourself with for a while to make yourself feel better, then walk away from when you do. So I think I should cut my losses now before I get my heart shredded, because I can already tell you’re gonna wreck me if this goes on much longer and you leave.”
That knocks the breath out of me. I lie there staring up at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, shocked by his honesty.
When I pull myself together, I discover to my surprise that I’m really freaking mad.
I say firmly, “No.”
Dark eyes burning, he stares at me. His silence makes me even angrier.
“You don’t get to decide how this is going to go before it’s even gone anywhere, Aidan. I understand not wanting to be a rebound, but you could just say, ‘Hey, we’ll take it slow,’ or ‘Let’s talk about your expectations here,’ but instead, you unilaterally decide you’re breaking up with me? Before we’re even officially an item? Fuck that. That’s not how this works. You can boss me around in bed all you want, but when it comes to making decisions about our relationship, we’re doing that shit together. I refuse to be a one-night stand.”
After a moment of blistering silence, he says gruffly, “It’s already more than a one-night stand.”
“Fine. A three-night stand. Whatever.” I glare at him until something in his eyes melts.
“Relationship? That’s what you’re calling this?”
“I said what I said. Deal with it.”
“Oh, bunny,” he breathes, a thrill in his voice, “you’re this close to getting the spanking of your life.”
I want to drum my heels against the mattress in frustration. And maybe scream a little, too. But I lie still with my lips pressed together and my nostrils flared, internally shouting curses at him.
Then I remember that I don’t have a single goddamn leg to stand on. My anger is misplaced.
He’s not the one holding back an important detail about their personal life here. That’s all me.
But then I remind myself that I have absolutely no idea what the man is or isn’t holding back. Other than that he owns a roofing company, has a friend named Jake he’s known since high school, and that he may or may not have unalived his own father, I know zilch.
Which makes this entire conversation all the more bizarre for both of us.
I close my eyes and exhale a hard breath.
Aidan commands, “Eyes on me, Kayla.”
I open my eyes and glare at him. “Oh, are we back to master and slave again? Pardon me while I go online to find a chiropractor to treat my whiplash.”
He drops his head and puts his mouth next to my ear. “Do you have any idea how hard I want to spank you right now?”
I can’t help myself. I smile. “The feeling is mutual.”
He rolls on top of me, smashing me into the mattress with his body weight.
“Oof!” I flail weakly at his back, slapping him. “You’re crushing me!”
“You love it,” he murmurs, holding my head between both hands and gazing down at me with hot eyes. “Now stop bleating and listen to me.”
I fall still, flinging my arms down to the mattress a little too dramatically, as evidenced by the quirk of his lips.
“Drama queen.”
“Tyrant.”
“You bet your sweet ass I am. And you like that about me.”
He waits for confirmation while I glower at his chin.
“Kayla.”
I know what that warning tone in his voice means. I exhale, rolling my eyes. “Okay, yes, I like it.” I can’t resist adding, “Usually.”
Chuckling, he kisses the tip of my nose. “Brat. As I was saying…” His voice drops to a whisper. “Thank you.”
Damn, he sure has a way of taking me by surprise. “For what?”
He shakes his head, which I take to mean I won’t get an explanation.
I say brightly, “Hey, I have an idea!”
“What’s that?”
“Why don’t you teach me sign language so that when you suddenly decide you don’t want to use your words anymore, we can still keep talking.”
My stare is pointed. His glower is dark. Then I smile at him because he obviously got my point, and I’m not really in the mood for more arguing.
I wrap my arms around his back. Knowing full well what the answer is already, I ask innocently, “So are you ending it with me or what?”
I can’t decide if his expression is admiration or aggravation. Maybe a combo of both.
He says bluntly, “You want me to?”
Crap. He turned it back around on me. “No.”
Searching my eyes for any sign of ambivalence, he says more softly, “You sure? It’s not too late to walk away from this.”
I’m unsure if it’s my imagination or not, but it seems as if there’s a vague threat buried in there somewhere. As if he thinks there’s an invisible line in the sand we haven’t quite crossed yet, but once we do, there’s no turning back for either of us.
I slide my hands over his shoulders and into his hair. Staring into his eyes, I nod.
“Say it out loud,” he orders.
“I’m sure.”
After a long period of silence, he pronounces, “Okay.”
I dissolve into disbelieving laughter. “God, you’re nuts.”
His dark eyes glittering, he says softly, “You have no idea.”
Right back at you, stud.
After a shower and a serving of Aidan’s awesome scrambled eggs, I tell him I should probably get going.
Sitting across from me at his kitchen table, he shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He doesn’t respond until long after he’s finished chewing and swallowed. I’m not sure if he’s deliberately taking a moment to think about his response or if he’s just really into those eggs.
Looking at his plate, he asks, “You got things to do today?”
“I’m behind on work.”
He nods thoughtfully.
“What are you up to?”
“I work on the house on Sundays.”
“What house?”
“My house.”
Surprised, I say, “You have a house?”
He glances up at me and nods. “Building one on the other side of the island.”
“You’re building a house? From scratch?”
“No, from origami swans.”
I smile at him. “There’s that devastating sense of humor again. Seriously, you’re really building a house from the ground up?”
He gives me a look like I should already know he’s fully capable of that and any other project he might set his mind to. Like, say, constructing a spacecraft from recycled aluminum cans.
“Wow, Aidan. That’s impressive.”
He nods, turning his attention back to his eggs.
“Can I see it?”
He freezes. His eyes flash up to mine. He says gruffly, “You want to?”
“Of course I do. Why are you shocked?”
He shakes his head and looks down at his plate. I impatiently let him ruminate on his answer, knowing he might never provide one but holding out hope.
Then he says quietly, “Still not sure what the parameters are.”
It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. “Me neither. How about if we figure it out as we go along?”
He glances up to meet my gaze. “Or we could decide right now.”
“Is that what you want?”
His nod is curt.
I smile at him and tease, “So we’re negotiating.”
He says sourly, “Funny.”
“It’s just that I remember how it’s your favorite thing.”
Without missing a beat, he says, “Being inside you is my favorite thing. Making you come is my favorite thing. Knowing you don’t do one-night stands but you made an exception for me is my favorite thing. Everything else is now a distant second.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as my ears grow hot.
He says more softly, “Tell me to stop talking like that and I will. I don’t want to scare you.”
I consider him. In a simple white T-shirt and jeans, he’s tense and unsmiling, and so handsome, it seems impossible.
Holding his gaze, I say, “You know you don’t scare me.”
“I meant scare you away.”
“I know what you meant. My answer’s the same.”
We stare at each other across the table until he pushes his plate away and sits back in his chair. His voice low and his gaze burning, he says, “Come here.”
He’s got that predatory look in his eyes again, as if he’s the hunter and I’m his prey. Every nerve ending in my body responds to it, standing on end at full attention. My pulse, respiration, and body temperature jump.
Moistening my lips, I stand and slowly walk around the table.
As soon as I’m within reach, he grabs my wrist and pulls me down onto his lap. He sinks his hands into my hair and brings my face close to his as I flatten my hands over his pecs.
Gazing deep into my eyes, he says gruffly, “Tell me what you want.”
I don’t even have to think about it. “To keep doing this. To get to know you better. To spend time with you and see where it goes.”
He licks his lips. His gaze drops to my mouth. “What else?”
I swallow nervously, then whisper, “To please you.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I know.”
His breathing turns ragged. His erection digs into my bottom. Beneath my palms, his heart drums a fast, staccato beat.
“Give your lion a kiss, bunny. Make it sweet.”
The roughness of his tone and the need in his eyes makes me tremble. I take his face in my hands and press a soft kiss to his mouth. Then I rub my cheek against his, closing my eyes and sighing in pleasure as his beard tickles my skin.
He murmurs my name.
“Yes, sir?”
A delicate little shudder runs through his chest when I call him that. He mutters, “Christ. You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”
“Oh, come on, Fight Club. You’re tough. You can handle it.”
He kisses me, devouring my mouth, softly groaning into it as he holds my head steady and takes what he needs. When he breaks the kiss, we’re both breathing hard.
He gazes into my eyes with an expression of agony.
Surprised, I trace a fingertip over his bottom lip and whisper, “Aidan. What is it?”
He clenches his teeth so hard, a muscle in his jaw flexes. The shake of his head is short and final.
He’s not going to tell me what’s wrong.
I sigh again, foreseeing a lot of this silent nonsense in our future.
“May I please have permission to tell you that you’re a pain in the ass?”
A hint of humor surfaces in the dark depths of his eyes. “Careful, sweet rabbit.”
I blink innocently. “Oh, did I not do that right?”
He lowers his lids and gazes at me as a dangerous growl rumbles through his chest.
“Okay, fine. I’ll be good.” Smiling, I give him a peck on the lips. “Can we go see your house now? I can’t wait to find out what kind of place a lion king builds for himself. I hope you remembered to leave space on the walls to hang all the bunny rabbit pelts you must’ve collected.”
Releasing his fists from my hair, he cups my face and kisses me softly.
“The walls are bare,” he murmurs. “I never wanted to catch a bunny before now.”
Inside my belly, a million tiny butterflies take flight all at once.
They drop to the ground, killed by a sudden arctic freeze, when Aidan adds firmly, “But it’s time for you to go home.”
I grumble, “Wow, talk about a buzzkill. I see all that time you spent in charm school was a total waste of money.”
“You said you need to work. I won’t get in the way of that. And use that smart tone with me again, and you’ll earn yourself—”
“I know. A spanking.”
“No. You like it too much. It’s a reward. Next time you sass me, you’ll be punished.”
I assess his serious face with narrowed eyes. “Punished how?”
“Try me and find out.”
He smiles at my poisonous expression. Then he sets me on my feet, stands, and walks me to the front door.
Opening it, he says, “I’ll talk to you soon. In the meantime”—he gives my ass a swat—“stay out of trouble.”
He leans down, gives me a firm, quick kiss, pushes me over the threshold, then shuts the door in my face.
Miffed, I shout, “Goodbye, Aidan!”
From the other side of the door comes a low laugh. “See you later, Kayla.”
I head down the stairs to the parking lot, wondering why he never says the word goodbye and why he avoided my questions about it both times I asked him.
More mysteries to add to his growing collection.
I’m lost in thought as I get in the car and start it, but freeze when I see what’s sitting on the dashboard above the steering wheel.
A 1937 D-type buffalo nickel.
