by Elle Kennedy
“I’m glad you came.”
The emotion lining Tim’s voice came out of left field, startling Aidan into saying, “You are?”
“Of course I am. You’re my son. Is it so shocking that I’d want to see my son before I died?”
Panic erupted in his chest. “Don’t fucking say that. You’re not going to die, Dad.”
“There’s a chance my heart will stop on the table. Doctors said so.”
“There’s also a chance it won’t.” Aidan battled a spark of resentment. “For once in your life, can’t you be positive about something? You’re always so damn pessimistic, so wrapped up in the bad things instead of focusing on the good ones.”
Rather than look upset by the accusation, Tim’s eyes took on a somber light. “You’re right. And that’s why I’m glad you came, Aidan.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Ever since you were born, I tried so hard to shield you from those bad things you just mentioned. I carried the burden alone, and I know sometimes the frustration and heartache and sadness bled through that strong front I was putting up.”
Aidan had no idea where his father was going with this, and a part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t always there to talk to you, and I’m sorry I never truly let you in and showed you how I was feeling, but it was too damn hard, and I knew that doing it would lead to a conversation I never wanted to have with you.” Tim went quiet for a moment, the steady beeping of his heart monitor the only sound in the room. Then he cleared his throat. “But we need to have that conversation now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“In the event that I don’t make it through surgery, there are some things you need to know, Aidan.”
Claire was climbing the walls. She hadn’t heard from Aidan or Dylan in two days, and if one of them didn’t walk through that door soon, she was going to freak the fuck out.
“Honey, I’m hoooooome.”
From her perch on the couch, Claire froze, wondering if she’d imagined that familiar singsong voice. Dylan?
No, her mind had conjured it up, cruelly making her believe her prayer had been answered and Dylan had just walked in the door.
“Claire? Aid?”
Her heart nearly jumped right out of her chest when Dylan strode into the living room.
God, she wasn’t imagining him. He was here.
“Oh, thank God!” She lunged off the couch and hurried toward him, throwing herself into his strong arms so hard their chests collided with a violent thump.
“Hey, now,” he said with a laugh, his arms coming around her waist. “What’s with the dramatic hello?”
Claire hugged him even tighter, breathing in his woodsy scent and sinking into the familiar hardness of his body. She pulled back to run her fingers over his week’s worth of beard growth, and searched his playful green eyes for any sign that he’d gotten injured during his mission.
He looked completely fine, an observation that brought a rush of relief. Still, she couldn’t help but demand, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
Dylan grinned. “Not a scratch on me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He glanced around. “Where’s Aidan?”
The question sent Claire’s spirits plummeting back to freak-out mode. “Chicago,” she said bleakly. “His dad had a heart attack.”
“Holy shit.” A furrow of concern dug into Dylan’s forehead. “Is Tim okay? Is Aidan okay?”
She bit her lower lip. Hard. “I have no idea. I drove him to the airport two days ago, he called when he landed in Chicago, and that was the last I heard from him. He’s not picking up his phone, he’s not answering my texts or my emails…” She sucked in a breath. “I’m so worried. I called the hospital to get an update on Aidan’s dad but all they would tell me is he made it out of surgery and is still in the ICU.”
Dylan looked upset. “Let me try him.” He fished his phone out of the pocket of his dusty fatigues. A minute later, he lowered the phone and cursed. “Voicemail. I’ll shoot him a text.”
That yielded no results either.
“Fuck,” Dylan muttered. “It isn’t like him to stay out of touch, especially if you’ve left him messages.”
Claire shook her head in aggravation. “So what do we do now? Just sit and hope that he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere in Chicago?”
“I’m sure he’s not lying in a ditch. If anything, he’s sitting at his father’s bedside, and too stressed to call back. Or maybe he doesn’t even realize how much time has passed—hospitals tend to do that, one hour just morphs into the next hour, and the next thing you know, it’s been two days.”
His reassurance did the trick, easing some of the pressure weighing on Claire’s chest. “You really think he’s okay?”
“I really do.” He tipped her head up and swept his thumb over her bottom lip. “And I’m sure you and I can come up with a lot of fun ways to distract ourselves while we wait for our radio-silent lover to make contact.”
Her lips twitched, then parted to let out a laugh. “How do you always manage to make me laugh even when I’m at my most upset?”
“It’s a gift.” With a wicked grin, he stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms before she could blink. “Wanna experience some of my other gifts?”
It was just the distraction she’d needed, and she was shrieking with laughter when Dylan started tickling her side as he carried her all the way to the master bedroom. He deposited her on the bed, then began to strip out of his dirty camo gear until he was standing there naked and erect.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, honey,” he said with an arch of his brow. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quick fast and wash all this grime and dirt off me. You, in the meantime, will remove every stitch of clothing from that scrumptious body of yours and get yourself nice and wet. I want your pussy drenched when I come out.”
A thrill shot through her. “I’m not sure you’re allowed to be bossy after being gone for an entire week without even a phone call.”
“I always get to be bossy. And I’m giving you advance warning—there ain’t gonna be any foreplay. I’ve been thinking about your tight cunt all week and I’m gonna shove my dick inside it the second I walk out of that bathroom.”
Arousal throbbed in her core as he flashed her a cheerful smile and disappeared.
Although she was still worried about the lack of contact from Aidan, Claire forced herself to put it out of her mind, at least for a little while. Without hesitation, she took off her shirt and bra, peeled off her leggings and panties, and got comfortable on the bed. Truth was, she loved Dylan’s bossiness. Aidan’s too.
Seven months ago, she’d wanted to feel the same passion and intensity she’d witnessed between the two men.
Well, now she had it. In spades.
When Dylan rejoined her five minutes later, she’d done precisely what he’d demanded—gotten herself so hot and so wet she was squirming on the bed like a dog in heat.
“Honey, you’re so good at following orders you should be in the military,” Dylan drawled.
He brought his hand to his erection and gave it a firm stroke, his green eyes glued to her fingers, which were idly stroking her clit and coated with her juices.
He watched her for several more seconds, then grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it onto his stiff shaft. A moment later, his big glorious body covered hers, his chest colliding with her breasts.
Her nipples hardened and poked against his pecs, and she rubbed them wantonly against his hot male flesh, loving the incredible friction. His chest was completely hairless, all sleek muscle and smooth golden skin. It felt different compared to the feel of Aidan’s chest pressed against her, the scrape of Aidan’s wiry chest hairs on her nipples. She loved both sensations equally, though.
Same way she loved both men equally.
“I have been dying to be inside you since the moment I left.” He e
ntered her in one fluid motion, filling her to the hilt.
Claire moaned and lifted her hips to trap him there.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going anywhere. Wrap your legs around my waist.”
She did as he asked, digging her heels into his tight buttocks as he started to move inside her. She expected him to fuck her hard and fast, but he did the opposite, rocking into her gently, slowly. Long, deep strokes that made shivers dance along her flesh. It felt so good she thought she might pass out.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she lost herself in sweet sensation, then flew open when Dylan released a tortured groan and said, “I love you.”
Her breath jammed in her lungs. “What?”
He didn’t deny it, didn’t backpedal, just looked deep into her eyes and repeated himself in a husky voice. “I love you, Claire.”
Claire’s heart promptly soared to another dimension, a world where nothing existed but pleasure and Dylan and Aidan and love. God, she was such a mushy sap. But she couldn’t help it—those three words were the most wonderful thing she’d ever heard. Only three other words could rival it, the same three words actually, uttered by Aidan.
And just as easily as she’d expressed her feelings to Aidan, she didn’t hesitate telling Dylan what he meant to her. “I love you too,” she whispered.
The joy that lit his eyes made her smile. He was so quick to show his emotions, so ready to let the people he cared about into his heart.
No more words were spoken as Dylan dipped his head and kissed her. And then his hips were moving again, and Claire was swept away by a wave of pleasure that warmed every square inch of her body and rippled between her legs.
Dylan quickened the pace, his muscular ass flexing as he thrust into her, his chest slick with sweat and his green eyes awash with desire. He found release first, groaning, latching his mouth to hers in a blistering kiss as he came, and it was the feel of his cock pulsing inside her and the hoarse sounds of his pleasure that triggered her orgasm.
Afterwards, they lay there with their legs tangled together and foreheads resting against each other.
“So you love me, huh?” he said, sounding as sated and contented as she felt.
“Mmm-hmmm. And you love me?”
“Damn right.”
Claire’s lips curved, but the smile faltered after a second. “I told Aidan I loved him too the other day.”
Dylan’s happy expression didn’t change. “I’m glad.”
“He didn’t say it back.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same way. Because he does.”
“You sound so certain of that.”
“I am certain. He loves you, same way I love you. He just needs a little time before he mans up and tells you.”
Claire laughed softly. “He better not take too long.” She hesitated. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How do you feel about him? Do you…do you love him?”
It was a long time before Dylan answered, and when he did, his voice was laced with pain. “Yes. I love him.”
“Have you told him?”
“Of course not.”
She frowned. “Why ‘of course not’?”
“Because…well, because I haven’t.”
“Why not?” she pushed. “Why was it easy for you to tell me you love me, but you can’t tell him how you feel about him?”
“Because when I said it to you, I knew you’d say it back. I knew you loved me back.”
Her heart cracked in two. Sliding closer, she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss, then murmured, “Of course he loves you back.” She couldn’t help an impish grin. “He just needs a little time before he mans up and tells you.”
“Touché.”
They both laughed, but their good humor faded when Claire’s iPhone buzzed. She’d left it on the end table, and now she lunged for it, relief crashing into her when she saw Aidan’s number. She picked up immediately.
“Thank God!” she said instead of a greeting. “I’ve been so worried about you! Why haven’t you answered any of my messages?”
After a long pause, Aidan’s ravaged voice filled her ear. “Claire…I need you.”
Icy fear clogged her throat. “What’s wrong?”
Beside her, Dylan sat up in concern.
“I need you,” Aidan mumbled. “Can you come to Chicago?”
A terrible thought struck her. “Is your dad…did he…?”
“My father is fine.” His tone was flat, lacking all emotion. “Will you come?”
She glanced over at Dylan with a worried look, then tightened her grip on the phone and said, “I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took Claire ten hours before she was finally standing in front of Aidan’s hotel room door. By that point, she was so tired and impatient and worried that she rapped her knuckles on the door in an unceasing series of knocks that didn’t stop until the door swung open and her hand met nothing but air.
“Hey.” Aidan appeared in the doorway wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie he’d donned three nights ago when he’d left San Diego.
“Hey,” she said softly.
She stepped inside and looked around, noted the room’s plain furnishings and drawn curtains, then walked into Aidan’s waiting embrace.
His arms held on so tight her lungs were burning by the time he released her. Wary, she watched as he headed for the queen-sized bed and flopped down as if his legs could no longer support his weight.
Sighing, Claire sat beside him and reached for his hand. “What happened? Is your dad all right?”
His skin was cold to the touch, his voice even colder. “He made it out of surgery and is resting comfortably.”
“That’s good to hear.” She hesitated. “You said he has an apartment downtown. Why are you staying in a hotel?”
“Because if I see a single goddamn item that belongs to him, I’ll be tempted to march back to the hospital and beat him senseless.”
Claire’s jaw fell open.
“The only reason I’m still in this city,” Aidan went on, “is because his girlfriend begged me to stay until the doctors tell us he’s completely out of the woods. Once I know he’s not going to die, I’m outta here.”
Claire ran her fingers over his knuckles. “Tell me what happened.”
“He lied to me.”
“What did he lie about?” she asked carefully.
His hand tensed beneath her palm. He stayed quiet.
“Aidan, what did he lie about?”
A ragged breath flew out of his mouth. “Do you remember when I told you how my mother died?”
She nodded.
“Well, turns out that was nothing but a fucking lie.”
Confusion washed over her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean my dad lied to me. My mother didn’t push me out of the way that day, she didn’t save me from a reckless driver and then get run down herself.” Aidan’s bitterness was like a thick layer of smog hanging over the room. “She walked right into traffic. She took my hand and led me into the path of a speeding car.”
Claire was struck speechless. It took her almost a minute to find her voice. “What?” she finally demanded.
“My mom didn’t push me out of the way, I jumped out of the way, or at least that’s what the witnesses on the scene told the cops. Apparently I was in shock afterwards. I blocked it all out, and the shrink told my dad not to push me into remembering, to let it come back to me gradually.” Aidan angrily shook his head. “But he pulled me out of therapy because eventually he didn’t want me to remember. He claims he wanted me to remember my mother as a hero.”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Claire squeezed his hand tighter and searched his tormented eyes. “I don’t understand. Why would your mother do that?”
“Because she was schizophrenic.” He sounded devastated. “Before she was declared unfit to stand trial, sh
e told the doctors that the voices told her to kill herself and her son. So she listened to the voices.”
“Oh my God.” Horror spiraled through her, then transformed into another rush of confusion as she realized what he’d said. “Wait, so she wasn’t killed by that car?”
“Nope, that’s just what my dad told me. She was committed to an institution for the criminally insane, about an hour north of here. She was a patient there for fifteen years before she hung herself by turning her bed sheet into a noose.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
“Fifteen years,” he spat out. “She was alive that entire time and he let me believe she was dead. I spent my whole fucking life feeling guilty that my mother had died saving me, feeling sorry for my dad because he was so fucking sad all the time, and she wasn’t even dead! Jesus!”
Claire had no idea what to say. Absolutely no idea. Every word that came out of Aidan’s mouth added to that initial shock, until all she could do was let him talk and hope her presence was enough.
“Fifteen years.” His breathing grew shallow. “She was alive for fifteen more years after the accident. She was alive when I entered middle school, when I was a freshman in high school, when I went to the prom, when I graduated, when I attended college. Fifteen years that I could have visited her, or sent her cards and flowers or…” Another harsh breath. “All that lost time…”
Tears pricked Claire’s eyes when she saw the moisture in Aidan’s. Without a word, she tugged his hand and pulled him into her arms.
He stiffened for a moment, and then his body went limp and he sagged against her. His dark hair tickled her chin, his hot tears soaking the front of her sweater.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, Aidan.”
She didn’t know how long they sat there, how long she held him, how long he cried, and when he lifted his head and urgently sought out her lips, she didn’t deny him the kiss he craved. She kissed him back with the same desperation she saw in his dark eyes, their tongues meeting and tangling, their hands entering the fray by grabbing at each other’s clothes.
