Play On

by Samantha Young

  His burned. They burned for me in a way no man’s ever had.

  How was I supposed to resist that?

  And yet I knew I had to. I scowled up at him. “You should go.”

  In answer, he pressed the entire length of his body against mine and heat flashed through me. Excitement rippled in my lower belly. Tingling started between my legs. My nipples hardened.

  Angry at my body and angry at him, I shoved at him but it was like trying to shove a concrete wall. “This is totally inappropriate,” I hissed.

  He grabbed my hands to stop my ineffectual shoving and gently but effectively pinned my hands above my head. My chest thrust up against him and I gasped as my breasts swelled.

  Eyes dark with knowing and intent, he bent his head toward me.

  “Don’t.” I shook my head, hating the bite in my tone, but carrying on nonetheless. “I’m not playing cavewoman to your caveman.”

  His lips twitched. “Shame that. Do you often deny yourself what you want?”

  “No, but I think with my head, not my vagina.”

  He laughed, his warm breath puffing against my lips.

  I loved when he laughed. I loved when I made him laugh. He needed laughter more than anything. The sound thrilled me, making my belly squeeze with pleasure. And I realized it wasn’t just my body betraying me but my heart too.

  As if he’d seen the thought in my eyes, he let go of one of my hands so he could press cool fingers against my breast, over my heart. I gasped at the dizzying sensation of being touched so intimately. He asked, “Have you ever thought about thinking with this thing?”

  “As far as I’m aware, my left breast isn’t much of a thinker,” I evaded.

  He grinned. “You know what I mean, Pixie.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Expression turning thoughtful, he said, “I thought we were friends.”

  “We were. But then you pinned me to a bathroom wall.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” He took hold of my free hand again and pressed it back to the wall with the other. At the flash of anger in my eyes, he said, “If you were really pissed off about it, you’d be struggling.”

  I flushed. “It would be futile. You’re a giant.”

  “I’d let you go. You know I would. I’d hate it. But I’d let you go … if you didn’t want this?”

  We looked silently at one another, his face so close to mine, I could see little flecks of yellow gold in his green eyes.

  In those moments, I forgot where I was. Who I was. And what the right thing to do for him was.

  And I didn’t even realize I was straining toward him until he brought it to my attention. “Why are you fighting this when you want it?”

  Why was I fighting this again?

  “Nora?”

  I closed my eyes, shutting him out, which allowed the memory of why I was fighting this to return to me. “Because—”

  His mouth crushed down on mine, silencing me. Surprise turned to instinct. I kissed him back, meeting his tongue with my own, straining against his hold on my wrists but not to get away. To wrap my arms around him. Run my fingers through his hair.

  Heat flushed through me like I was covered in fuel and he’d started a fire at my feet. It lashed like lightning until I was surrounded in a blaze.

  Too hot. Too needy. Too everything.

  I wanted to rip off my clothes.

  I wanted to rip off his clothes.

  And then he broke the kiss to pull back and stare at me in triumph.

  If he’d been anyone else, if it had been any other moment, I’d have called him out for being smug.

  Instead, I remembered exactly why we should not be doing this.

  Whatever he saw in my expression made him loosen his grip on my wrists. I lowered them, but he didn’t step away.

  He waited, his hands resting gently on my small shoulders.

  Something in his eyes made my defenses crumble. Tenderness rushed through me and I found myself caressing his cheek, feeling his stubble prickle my skin. Sadness doused the fire. “She’s gone,” I told him gently. “Not even I can distract you from that.”

  Unbearable, bleak anguish fought with the desire in his eyes and he slowly slid his hands off my shoulders and down to my waist. With a gentle tug I fell into him, clutching at his chest.

  He tore through my soul with the whispered, tortured words, “But you can try.”

  Looking up into his face, one that I longed to see every day, one that incited excitement when I knew I would see it, I understood then that I would never hurt him like I’d hurt Jim. My feelings for him were on an entirely different level, and as guilty as that made me feel, it also reassured me. The only person in danger here was me.

  And for him, I was willing to chance the possibility of getting my heart broken.

  Drawn to Aidan, drawn to Sylvie, I think I’d known all along that these two people were my repentance for the mistakes I made with Jim and my family. It didn’t matter what happened to my heart in the end—all that mattered was that I could be what Aidan and Sylvie needed at this point in their lives. And maybe afterward I’d finally be at peace with myself.

  So why the hell shouldn’t I let us have what we both wanted?

  I threw my hands around his nape and went up on my tiptoes as I pulled his head toward mine. It took only the first nudge and he was bending to meet me. Our lips met in a passionate crash of hunger, and suddenly his hands were gripping the backs of my thighs and lifting me off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his hips as he pressed my back against the bathroom wall, our mouths never untangling for a second. His stubble pricked my skin as the kiss descended from hungry to ravenous—dirty, desperate, and hot as sin.

  I’d never experienced anything like it, this heat between us, this want. It was like we knew the only way to feel anything good was to disappear as freely and deeply into one another as possible.

  One of his rough, warm hands glided up my bare waist to cup my breast. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then dragged his thumb over the rise of it, pulling the fabric of my bra down. My nipple peaked in the cool air and I gasped when his thumb brushed over it. The noise melted under Aidan’s kisses and he groaned, pushing his hips more firmly between mine so his hard, scorching erection pressed against me where I most wanted it.

  I whimpered, my fingers curling tight in his hair as my thighs clamped around his hips, silently pleading for more.

  “Right, you pair, oot of there!”

  The sound of Jan’s angry voice was the equivalent of suddenly finding ourselves dumped in snow. We broke apart, my eyes wide with horror and his narrowed with frustration.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, gently easing me to the floor.

  “Did ye hear me?” Jan pounded the door.

  “We’re coming, Jan.” Aidan replied gently.

  We heard her harrumph followed by the sounds of her footsteps fading away from the door.

  Feeling shaken that I could have lost myself so much in him that I’d forget I was at a freaking children’s hospital, I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “I can’t believe I did that here.”

  “Hey.” He brushed away my hands as they were attempting to button my shirt. He buttoned it calmly for me. “We lost our heads for a moment. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Was that all it was? Us losing our heads for a moment?”

  Aidan straightened my shirt and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. “No,” he whispered across my swollen mouth. “This isn’t over, Pixie. Sylvie’s with her dad tonight so I have the place to myself. I want you there.”

  My pulse skittered at the thought, excitement making my belly squeeze deep and low. “Okay.”

  “No misunderstandings.” His eyes blazed with determination. “Tonight you’re in my bed. I’m going to make love to you, and fuck you and come with you until every muscle in your body aches.”

  A moan of longing bubbled out of me and I bit my lip to halt its soun
d, but I couldn’t halt the wet between my legs.

  Satisfied by my nonverbal response, he took a reluctant step back and I felt his eyes on me as I gathered my stuff, putting my clothes in my backpack. I smoothed my hands down my costume, wishing there was a mirror in here. “I don’t have stubble burn on my cheeks, do I?”

  Aidan shook his head, smirking. “No. But you’ll most certainly have it between your thighs by tomorrow morning.”

  Tingles exploded around my breasts and between my legs, and I felt my nipples harden into points. Heat blossomed beneath my cheeks. “Jesus,” I huffed. “I have to go out to the kids … you couldn’t have waited to say something like that to me?”

  My reaction made him laugh as he pulled open the bathroom door. “No one will know you’re wet except me. Which I love, by the way.”

  “How do you know I am?” I said, trying to reign in the man’s cockiness a little.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I guess you’ll find out tonight for sure.”

  “Pixie knows how to play,” he murmured.

  I glanced at him over my shoulder as we walked out of Aly’s room and all the pain and grief I’d seen in his eyes minutes earlier was buried. It was now replaced by amusement, desire, and if I wasn’t mistaken, happiness.

  I had made him happy.

  I grinned at the thought. “You have no idea.”

  Aidan laughed, the sound dying when we stepped out into the corridor to find Jan waiting for us. At her look of displeasure, we both fell silent, like naughty schoolchildren caught doing something very wrong.

  “Never again.” She wagged her finger at us.

  “Never,” we promised in unison, and meant it. What we’d done had been totally inappropriate and my only excuse was that this man had the ability to obliterate all thoughts of anything else in the world but him.

  Suffice it to say, I found it extremely difficult to concentrate with the kids. It was like trying to run through knee-deep water. But try I did because my time with them was as important as the time I’d now promised to Aidan.

  This was it.

  This was the night everything would irrevocably change between us. I stood by the canal where a narrowboat and a barge were anchored. It was a chilly evening, announcing summer’s gradual end, and I wore a cardigan over my dress. I didn’t have anything fancy to wear, but since Aidan was attracted to me even when I was wearing a Peter Pan costume, I didn’t think it would really matter to him what I wore.

  The dress was red with subtle white polka dots. It had a scalloped V-neck that hinted at cleavage, short sleeves, buttons down the front, and a baby-doll silhouette. I wore low-heeled brown leather ankle boots that had seen better days but were my favorite shoes. It was casual. Cute. Not seductive. Tonight was going to be nerve-wracking enough. I wanted to be comfortable.

  Plus, I’d calculated how to get to the sexy times with Aidan as fast as possible and this dress was easily whipped off over my head.

  It was around seven-thirty so the sun was still in the sky, bathing the apartments around the canal in warm orange and pink. Aidan’s building was situated near Fountainbridge Square where the two boats were moored. There was a bar there and a restaurant and shops, so it wasn’t like there weren’t people milling around. However, there was a stillness about the evening, as if everyone and everything knew something special was about to happen for me. Such whimsical thinking wasn’t like me of late, but with my heart banging away in my chest as I approached the front door to Aidan’s building, I couldn’t help feeling as if this night was just for us.

  Something good and thrilling on the horizon of a bleak past we were hopefully moving away from.

  To say Sylvie had been delighted when I accepted a ride home from her uncle was putting it mildly. She made it clear it was like her two best friends had decided they’d be best friends too, and all was well in her world. She chattered excitedly in the back of the Range Rover as Aidan drove me home to Sighthill. Since I’d made the decision to do this—whatever this was—I saw no reason to hide where I lived from him. He already knew I lived in Sighthill anyway.

  “Has your dad got cool plans for you tonight?” I’d asked Sylvie, recognizing the street we were driving down as being a block from my own.

  Sylvie had shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “He’s taking her out for dinner tonight. To the Scran and Scallie. You like it there, sweetheart,” Aidan gently reminded her.

  I’d wondered what was with her sudden disinterest in the idea of spending the night with her dad.

  “It’s Daddy’s favorite place to eat. Not mine.”

  At her uncharacteristically petulant tone, I shot Aidan a look. He’d caught it out of the corner of his eye and said, “Are you not happy because Sally is going to be there? Because I told you if you’re upset about her moving in with your dad, I can talk to him.”

  Ah.

  Cal had a girlfriend. I hadn’t known that. “Has Sally been around long?”

  Sylvie had shrugged again so I’d looked to Aidan.

  “Yeah. They’ve been dating for over a year but Sally recently moved in with him.”

  “Sally’s fine,” Sylvie said.

  Before I could respond, Aidan slowed the car and asked, “Is this you?”

  I turned and looked out of my window up at my grim home. My apartment was part of a block of flats covered in pebble-dash render stained and gray with age. The small patches of grass outside were overgrown in parts and dying in others. A couple of my neighbors had windows that didn’t look as if they’d been cleaned from the inside for years.

  This was where I lived. I wouldn’t be ashamed. Most of the people here were working hard to be able to afford their homes. I was one of them. And my little flat may not have been much but it was clean and tidy and I could afford the rent without help from anyone else.

  “This is me. Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anytime.” He’d given me a sexy half smile as he pulled his phone out of the holder in the center console. “Number. Please.”

  He had been lucky he’d added that please, and my expression told him so, making him laugh as I put my number into his phone. When I handed it back to him, he called me. “Now you have mine too. I’ll text you,” he said, his gaze meaningful.

  I’d nodded, feeling tingles in my good-for-nothing places at the thought of seeing him later in the day.

  Turning back to Sylvie, I found her watching us curiously, as if she sensed something was up but was too young to really understand what.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said, reaching out for her hand.

  When she’d taken it, I squeezed hers tight, and then reluctantly let go. Her shouts of goodbye to me and her exuberant waving as I walked down the path to my building had made me smile. The searing glance Aidan had given me before he drove off killed the smile as anticipation enveloped me.

  Not long later, I got a text with his address and a time. I texted back a simple “I’ll be there” response.

  And now here I was.

  With my palms sweating.

  I pressed the buzzer to his apartment and some seconds later heard his delicious voice, “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  The door buzzed and I smiled as I stepped inside, thinking that sometimes he was a man of few words.

  Aidan lived on the second from the top floor and when the elevator binged open, it was facing his apartment door—he was standing in it, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  My breath caught as I took him in. He was pure masculine, rugged perfection. Every time I saw him, he grew more attractive. His soulful eyes were focused on me as mine took in the fact that he was wearing a different T-shirt from earlier and ragged jeans. His hair was still wet so I knew, like me, he’d just had a shower.

  Shivers tickled down my spine at the reason why. I stepped out of the elevator before the doors closed on me and approached him slowly, still drinking him in, disbelieving really that t
his kind, funny, smart, and unbelievably sexy man was gazing at me like he thought I was all those things too. His eyes drifted down my body slowly and then rose, lingering over every detail, until they came back to my face.

  “I like this dress,” he said.

  I smiled softly. “You’re easily pleased.”

  Aidan took my hand and led me inside his apartment, but I didn’t have a chance to look at it because he was speaking again, distracting me. “No, I didn’t used to be.” He closed the door, locking it behind us. “I used to be an arsehole.” His expression was almost one of wonder as he looked down at me. “A picky, womanizing arsehole.”

  I tensed, not really enjoying the idea of him and other women. And picky? I remember Sylvie telling me her uncle dated the most beautiful women she’d ever seen.

  Christ.

  I tugged on my cardigan, wondering what possessed me to wear it.

  “Don’t.” It was as if he sensed my sudden insecurity, sliding an arm around my waist and drawing me to him. My hands fluttered down on his hard, warm chest, and I tilted my head back to keep eye contact. “You’re perfect.”

  “My hair is too short.” I touched the strands at my nape. “It used to be long.”

  “I remember.”

  “I cut it because of Jim,” I told him sadly. “At the time, I was so angry about everything, and he loved my hair and he told me never to cut it, and when he died … I cut it. All of it. I was punishing him for dying. It’s so goddamn stupid, I know.”

  Aidan squeezed my waist in reassurance.

  “But I loved my hair too,” I said, feeling stupid about the whole thing. “I know it’s only hair … but I’m mad I cut it.”

  He studied me so long, I was almost afraid to ask what he was thinking, but I shouldn’t have been. Aidan released my waist with one hand to brush his fingers through the bangs that had grown out past my ears. His fingers curled around my ear, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, and his eyes caught mine with a fierceness that made my belly squeeze. “You could shave it all off, Pixie, and still be so bloody beautiful, I can’t concentrate on anything else when you’re in the room.”