She ripped her mouth from his, his name falling from her lips in a breathless scream. Her head tilted back as her hips rocked and thrust, riding his cock. Harder, faster. Over and over, driving him to the edge, driving him insane.
He clenched his jaw, braced a hand against the wall on one side of her head, and searched for control. Struggled, begged, pleaded, as sweat beaded on his forehead from the strain. He lowered his head, resting it against his arm as Savannah's body slowed. Stilled.
She dropped her head to his shoulder, her harsh breathing echoing around them. Trembling fingers traced his arm, his jaw, sending him even closer to the edge.
He couldn't—
Fuck.
He absolutely. Could not. Lose control.
"Don't move." Desperation filled his harsh growl. Savannah stilled, but only for a second. She shifted, pressed a kiss against his jaw, then lifted her head. He knew she was watching him, felt her confusion.
He sucked in a deep breath, held it, praying the last thread of his control wouldn't shatter as he forced the words from his throat. "I'm not wearing a condom."
Would she get pissed? Push him away and demand he leave? Because he knew, just like she did, that it was already too late. It wasn't just about birth control—it was about safe sex. Wasn't that the rule now? And he'd been the one to break it, to lose control and forget. But fuck, he wasn't used to this, had been out of the fucking game for too fucking long now.
Didn't matter. He knew better.
He held his breath, his jaw still painfully clenched as her body shifted against him. And fuck, if she didn't stop moving like that, if she didn't stop wiggling against him, it really would be too late.
Except she wasn't moving against him—she was easing away from him, unwrapping her legs from around his waist. Would she push him away? Demand he leave?
He held his breath, waiting, his heart pounding so fucking hard, he expected it to jump out of his chest. And still he struggled to maintain control as she slid down his body.
"Savannah, I'm sorry—"
"Sh."
He struggled to lift his head, to open his eyes. He needed to see her, to see the expression on her face because he didn't understand the sound she had made, had thought it sounded like some kind of reassurance. And he didn't understand why her hands were trailing down his body, couldn't make sense of anything because he was still struggling to hold onto that last fucking thread of control.
And then she was on her knees in front of him, her nails grazing the flesh of his ass. And then, fuck, her mouth was on him. Hot and wet around his cock, her tongue swirling around the engorged tip. He shuddered, forced his eyes open, looked down—
And met her blazing gaze as she looked up at him, her head tilted back as the last inch of his hard cock disappeared into the hot recesses of her mouth.
He groaned, the last bit of control shredding as he wrapped a fist in the silky strands of her hair and thrust his cock deeper into her mouth.
Chapter Twelve
Aaron's eyes drifted closed, sleep beckoning him. It would be so easy to drift off, to fall asleep with Savannah sprawled on top of him, her body still wrapped protectively around him, cradling him with her slick heat.
How long had it been since he felt this way? Too long. Not since—
No, not even then.
Never.
He ran his hand along her back, tracing the ridges of her spine with the tip of one finger. She sighed against his shoulder, a sleepy sound of contentment as she snuggled even closer. A small smile curved his mouth at the sound, almost like she was purring. She was the most caring, giving, uninhibited woman he'd ever been with. Not afraid to tell him what she wanted. Not afraid to seek her own pleasure in his body and demanding he do the same.
He wanted to stay here all night, just holding her. Wanted to wake her in the morning by raining soft kisses along her body, to feel her come alive as he slowly entered her. Filling her. Stretching her.
Christ, he needed to stop thinking like that, not when he was already inside her, seconds away from growing hard again.
He forced his eyes open and turned his head, blinking at the glowing numbers on Savannah's clock. It was later than he thought, although he shouldn't be surprised. They had made love two more times, long and slow, their bodies moving together as if they'd been meant for each other.
Intense. Driven.
He ran his hand along her arm and pressed a gentle kiss against the slope of her shoulder, then gently eased her away from him. Her eyes opened, filled with sleepy need. She wiggled her hips against him, a playful smile on her face.
"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah. I need to get home."
The smile faded, the sleepiness leaving her eyes. He thought he saw disappointment in her gaze but he couldn't be sure because she blinked and looked away. She moved her leg, slid off him, propped her head on her hand. Her gaze was focused on his chest when she spoke.
"You can stay here if you want. I don't mind."
Christ, he wished he could. He wanted nothing more. "I can't."
"Oh." There it was again, that flash of disappointment. But she quickly hid it behind a brief smile. She started to roll away but Aaron put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. He leaned forward, holding her in place with his body, and captured her mouth in a slow, deep kiss.
"I want to, Savannah. I do. But I can't. The girls are home."
"I thought your mother was watching them."
"She is. But I can't stay gone all night. I won't do that to them."
"It's okay. I understand." The words were nothing more than empty reassurance. She didn't understand. She might think she did, but she didn't. She couldn't, because she didn't know.
He settled beside her and pulled her closer, held her gaze with his when she would have looked away.
"Savannah, it's—" He hesitated, not knowing how much to tell her, not knowing if he could even explain. "Their mother did that. All the time. I won't—"
She placed her fingers against his mouth, silencing him. "You don't have to explain, Aaron. You don't owe me anything."
He frowned, not liking the way the words sounded, not liking the flash of sorrow he saw in her eyes. He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled them away. "The hell I don't."
"Aaron—"
"Let me finish. Please." He waited for her to argue, to tell him again that he didn't owe her anything. But maybe she saw the need in his eyes, the desperation to explain, because she slowly nodded and settled against him.
He took a deep breath, his gaze focused on the pillow beneath Savannah's head, on the spill of her hair against the creamy fabric. "Amy hated that I played hockey. Hated the sport, the travel, the time I spent on the road. Hated the moving. Hated everything about it."
"Then why did she marry you? She had to know what it would be like."
He smiled at the defensiveness in Savannah's voice. "The money. And the glamour—at least, what she thought would be glamour. I wasn't a superstar, not even close, but I was young enough that she thought I would be. Hell, so was I, if I'm going to be honest about it."
"Then that's her own damn fault."
"Not all of it. Not back then. I was too young to know better, convinced I'd be a superstar in no time. But it didn't work out that way, and she wasn't happy with the reality. And she really wasn't happy being stuck at home with a baby when I was on the road all the time."
"Stuck? I'm sorry, but isn't that part of being a parent?"
"She didn't see it that way. It's not—" Aaron frowned, searching for the right words. It would be so easy to lay all the blame at Amy's feet, but that wasn't the case, not entirely. "It wasn't just her. We were both too young to get married, too young to start a family. We were ready to call it quits before Brooke was even born."
"Why didn't you?"
"The money. She didn't want to give it up that easily."
"Prenup?"
"Yeah, but only because my agent insisted. You see, at that
time, we still thought I was going to make it big. That didn't happen, though. By the time reality reared its ugly head and Amy decided it was better to cut her losses, she was pregnant with Isabelle."
He'd never shared these many details with anyone else before, not even Harland. So why now? Why was he telling Savannah?
Because of the way she was looking at him, understanding in her eyes. Because of the way she reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, because of the way she slowly traced the curve of his lower lip with her thumb. Because of the way she made him feel, grounded and peaceful. Sane.
Because he wasn't afraid to be himself with her.
And Christ, he didn't want to think about what that meant. Not now. He couldn't.
He pushed those last thoughts from his mind then leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against her lips.
It was time to finish his story.
"Looking back, I think I probably would have stayed married, even now. Just dealt with it and hoped for the best."
"But?"
Aaron closed his eyes, swallowed back the pain and anger that were still so clear in his mind, in his gut. "She was screwing around. I think I always knew, but I didn't care enough to do anything about it. Until I came home one morning and she wasn't there. She got my schedule screwed up and left the kids with a babysitter while she spent the night with her latest boyfriend. The babysitter was our fifteen-year-old neighbor."
"How old were the girls?"
"Brooke was six, Isabelle was three. I hired an attorney the next day and filed for a legal separation and that was that."
"But the girls lived with her."
"Yeah. That's, uh—" He cleared his throat and looked away, unable to meet Savannah's eyes. "I convinced myself that it would be better for them. I was never home, always on the road. By that time, I'd been traded a half-dozen times already and was spending most of my time with the minors. I saw the writing on the wall, knew what was coming. They needed stability, and I thought Amy would be able to give that to them in a way I never could."
"Did she?"
"For a little while. Maybe. We didn't divorce right away, so I was still able to see them. Then Baltimore picked up my contract five years ago and assigned me here, to the Bombers. Amy decided she didn't want to stay in St. Louis so she moved back with her parents. We, uh, we finally divorced three years ago."
"Were things better then? When she moved back to her parents?"
Aaron was silent a long time as he searched for the answer, needing to find the truth as he knew it. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. I like to think so. She loved the girls, tried her best, in her own way. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. And I know the girls were never alone, not when Amy was living with her parents. But…she never changed, still liked to go out and have too much fun."
Savannah pressed her hand against his cheek again and leaned up to kiss him. Her mouth was soft and gentle, the kiss meant to reassure. And when she pulled away, he saw understanding in her eyes, knew that he didn't have to finish.
But he did anyway, needing to explain.
"That's why I won't hire a nanny or a babysitter. That's why I won't leave them alone, Savannah. Not even with my mom watching them. It's going to be bad enough with my schedule. I have practice during the week. Games every weekend, even some weeknights, here and on the road. I just—I can't. Not after everything they've been through. I can't leave them like their mother did."
"It's okay, Aaron. I understand." She leaned forward and kissed him again, then looked at him with a sad smile that tugged at his heart and twisted his gut. She did understand, maybe even more than he did. His girls were his priority now. They had to be.
And she understood, even if he didn't say the words.
She climbed out of bed, her steps slow and graceful as she moved to his side and tugged his hand. "I'm officially kicking you out, Mr. Malone. Now go. I need my beauty rest."
A chuckle escaped him, surprising him. How could he laugh now, after everything he had told her? How could he even feel like laughing? It was because of Savannah. Her smile. Her clear gaze. Her understanding and acceptance of the words left unspoken.
Only Savannah could make him feel this way.
He stood up and reached for her, pulling her in close for a kiss. Deep and slow and over way too soon. He grabbed his pants, stepped into them then reached for his shirt. "You should come over for breakfast."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. Or rather, today." He glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the clock. "In four hours, to be exact."
"I don't think—"
"It's French toast day. And I make a killer French toast. Besides, you can't go to the museum on an empty stomach."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"What? Eating?"
"No. Me, going to the museum with you."
His fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt and he looked up, frowning. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"Don't you think it might be better if it was just you and the girls? I mean, after…" Her voice trailed off, her hand waving absently at the bed.
"After…?"
"After everything you told me. I don't want to intrude."
Aaron closed the distance between them in two long strides. "You won't be intruding. I want you there. And so does Isabelle."
"I'm not—"
He cut her off with a quick kiss. "Eight o'clock. Breakfast. Then we head down to DC to play tourist."
Savannah opened her mouth, then quickly shut it at his look. He held his breath, waiting to see if she'd make another argument against going. She finally sighed then darted a pointed look at the clock. "In that case, I really am kicking you out. And I'm telling you right now, don't expect much from me on less than four hours' worth of sleep."
"Fair enough. We can take turns napping in the exhibits." He kissed her again then grabbed his shoes and jacket, telling her he'd lock up on his way out.
Then he made his way from her yard to his, trying not to dwell on the expression he'd seen in Savannah's eyes when she said she didn't want to intrude.
Chapter Thirteen
Savannah smothered a yawn, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. She didn't know why she bothered—nobody was paying attention to her. In fact, nobody was paying attention to anything. How could they, when it took all of their focus on simply breathing through the thick tension that permeated the SUV?
She glanced out the window, barely seeing the trees rush past as they raced down 295 toward Washington. Not for the first time, she wondered what she was doing here, why she had agreed to come along.
Especially since the tension had been brewing from the second she walked into Aaron's house to join them for breakfast. Brooke had taken one look at her, shot an accusing scowl at Aaron, then loudly proclaimed that she wasn't going if she was. Savannah had stopped where she was, in the process of closing the sliding glass door, and almost turned around to leave right then and there. What had she ever done to the teenager to make her talk to her that way?
Nothing that she could think of. She barely even spoke to Brooke, knowing her attempts would have been thrown back in her face with every ounce of attitude the girl could muster. She didn't need to subject herself to that, not today, not when she'd only had two hours' worth of sleep—
Because her mind had been going over and over every word Aaron had said. Dissecting. Analyzing. And it didn't matter how many times she studied them, she came to the same conclusion. Yes, his daughters came first, as they should. She didn't fault him for that, not in the least. But it was the underlying message that had been loud and clear: they were a package deal, and there wasn't room for anyone else.
At least, she thought that's what he was telling her. She wasn't sure. How could she be? Especially when, in the next breath, he was insisting she join them on this outing today.
Had she given him some sign, some unintentional indication that she was interested in something more permanen
t? No, not that she knew of. Because she wasn't interested in anything more permanent. Wasn't interested in settling down with a family.
So why did his words, spoken and unspoken, bother her so much? Why did simply thinking about them leave a small ache in the hollow of her chest?
Because she needed sleep, that was why. If she had been smart, she would have made an excuse and turned around to leave. But Aaron's mother must have sensed what she was ready to do because she came over and grabbed Savannah's arm and guided her to the table with a bright smile. Then she sat across from her, her ringed hands curled around a steaming mug of coffee, and started talking.
About everything.
Before Savannah knew it, she'd finished three slices of French toast, two cups of coffee, and was being herded out to Aaron's SUV with everyone else. The woman was sneaky, definitely sneaky.
Savannah loved her already. Too bad she wasn't joining them on this outing. There was no doubt in Savannah's mind that Carol Malone would have banished the suffocating tension with one simple command.
"I still don't understand why I have to go. This is stupid."
Savannah sighed and glanced at her watch. Five minutes had passed since the last time Brooke had said those same exact words—almost a record.
"We've been over this before, Brooke."
"You could have left me home."
"Not by yourself."
"I'm old enough."
"Not when you keep acting the way you are."
"It's not fair!"
"Life's not fair. Get over it."
Savannah glanced toward the front seat, saw Aaron's hand clench the steering wheel. Sympathy welled inside her, along with an odd burst of humor. Not at the situation, but at his comeback. It struck her as such a parent thing to say.
Maybe because she'd heard her own parents tell her the same thing when she was growing up.
Life's not fair. Get over it.
Couldn't get much simpler than that. Maybe that's what she needed to do: get over it. She liked Aaron, had been fantasizing about him for a year. They were neighbors. Casual friends, maybe even more than that—but still only friends. And they were having sex.
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