SHIVER

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “Steady.”

  “Hold the room still then.” He blinked a few times, took a few steps, leaning heavily on her.

  “Do you want the couch or the bedroom?”

  “Gotta lie down.” He shivered. “With lots of blankets.”

  “How long do you think you were out?”

  “I came here from your place. Got out of the car, walked down the path, and bam…stars.”

  “How’d you get into the cabin?”

  “Crawled. Can we stop with the questions? My head hurts.”

  He was also cold. Raven worried over his shivering. He was wet from crawling through the snow, and she needed to get him out of his clothes…and warmed up.

  They reached his old bedroom, and he went to lie down on the bed. “No.” Raven pulled at his arm. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes first.”

  He gave her a sardonic look. “Not tonight, honey. I have a headache.”

  “Funny.” Relieved if he could joke, he couldn’t be hurt that bad, she reached for the zipper on his coat and pulled it down. He didn’t make any attempt to help her, just watched her with his dark eyes, lids at half-mast. She pushed the parka off his shoulders and the heat in the room seemed to rise. Must be just her, because Aidan continued to shiver. His shirt was dry, thank goodness, but his jeans were wet from his body melting the snow he’d crawled through. She looked at his fly.

  “Can you take your pants off?” She raised her gaze to his.

  His hands fumbled on the button, slow and clumsy. He hadn’t had gloves on when she’d found him. He’d been in the cold, crawled through the snow, and then laid on the floor with the door open. It was fifteen below.

  “Let me see your hands.” She reached for them herself. They were red and frozen, his fingertips white.

  She reached for his fly and tried to put out of her mind what she was doing.

  “Careful,” he grunted. “I’d like to keep what’s behind there.”

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She didn’t need to be reminded what lay behind that zipper. Or how she much liked what he could do with that particular appendage.

  Get a grip. The man was frozen and probably concussed. Plus, he was mad as hell at her.

  She pulled the jeans down to his ankles. “Why aren’t you wearing your medical boot?”

  He fell onto the edge of the bed, his hands holding his head. “It got in the way.”

  She knelt at his feet and worked at loosening the laces on his boots. Once those were off she discarded his socks. His eyelids lowered as he surveyed her every move. Again she felt heat. Her face was right in line with what had been behind the zipper. From the glint in his eyes, he was thinking about that too.

  “Not that I don’t like your current position, but I’m freezing my ass off here.”

  She finished yanking off his jeans and flicked her gaze up his body. “Are your boxers wet?”

  “You don’t want me to lose those,” his voice was soft and heavy with warning. “And I haven’t wet my shorts in decades.”

  She swallowed. “Swing your legs over.” She tucked him into bed and piled him with blankets. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Grab one of Earl’s pistols,” Aidan muttered. “I want you armed.”

  Not a bad idea. She went to the gun cabinet and helped herself to a thirty-eight special over the shotguns, loading the cylinder and tucking the weapon into the pocket of her jeans.

  She boiled water for tea. While the water heated, she opened the cast-iron door to the wood stove and stoked the dying coals. Adding in wood, she blew on the coals until the flames caught, licking greedily at the dry timber. She added more until she was satisfied that it would heat on its own for a few hours. She prepped the tea and carefully walked the mug back to Aidan.

  He was shivering, his teeth chattering as he shook in the bed, hands folded under his armpits in an attempt to warm them with what body heat he had.

  She set the tea on the end table. Damn, she’d have to crawl in there with him. Shaking like he was, the blankets and tea weren’t going to be enough to warm him. She’d discarded her coat in the other room but now kicked off her mukluks, set the gun on the end table, and edged into the bed with him.

  “I don’t want you here,” Aidan said through chattering teeth.

  “I know.” Scooting over to him, she took his hands and pulled them under her shirt, catching her breath when the frigidness of them branded her skin.

  He moaned and drawn by her heat, snuggled closer. She pulled the covers over them, and her body curved into his with a sigh. The rightness of lying next to him, her arms around him, brought tears to her eyes.

  This was the man she’d loved. The man who’d haunted her all these years. The man she’d lied to.

  They lay like that for a long time. The only sounds that of their breathing. She waited for his to become rhythmic, hoping he’d fall asleep, but then he probably shouldn’t sleep since he’d taken a good hit to the head. Should she talk to him, keep him awake? What did she say?

  How about what she’d rushed over here to say? But then she didn’t want to bring up Fox right now with Aidan hurting. It would only add more hurt. Except she needed to get him to agree not to reveal the truth to Fox. Not yet. She didn’t want her child hating her for her lies too.

  There were other things she could bring up. Like that hard bulge pressing into her hip. No, she definitely needed to keep that quiet. Right. Like Aidan wasn’t aware of his—

  Okay, really not going to go there. She took a deeper breath, hoping to settle her nerves. At least she hoped it was nerves tightening her belly. She had a sneaky suspicion it was something all together different.

  Making love with Aidan had never made her nervous. Not even that first time. It had been a rush of hormones, colliding together in a frenzy of lust. The second time they’d slowed, savored, explored.

  She swallowed, gulping back a batch of tears. How she’d missed that euphoric summer when everything had seemed bright and promising. Anything had been possible. Dreams had been reachable. Love had been simple. Then death had darkened everything.

  Love was anything but simple now. Case in point, the evidence of Aidan’s desire growing thicker and harder causing her inner muscles to clench, to weep. To want.

  She turned her face up to tell him to move back and found him watching her, his eyes full of hurt and shaded with need. Her heart ached. How did she tell him to back off when her arms wanted to pull him closer, cradle his head against her breast? They’d been destined for each other. Soul mates. He was her sun, she his raven.

  He must have read the conflict in her eyes, for his lips tightened, and a hard glint entered his. One that had real nerves fluttering frantically in her belly. Suddenly he flipped her onto her back and pressed her into the mattress with the weight of his hard, muscled body.

  His mouth smothered her gasp.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  No way in hell was she rejecting him again.

  Aidan swept his tongue into Raven’s mouth while his hands held her down. He was angry, wanted to hurt, demand she give herself to him. She fucking owed him. Years of not knowing he was a father. Years of not being a part of his son’s life. Not being a part of hers.

  He’d seen the want, the desire she’d tried to hide, and the denial she’d been ready to utter. He’d just have to keep that mouth of hers busy. It was time for her body to speak. Maybe that way he’d finally get the truth out of her.

  He forced a knee between her legs, claiming room for his hips as he pressed and ground against her. Hard couldn’t begin to describe his condition. Hard, hurting, and unable to stop himself from thrusting against her soft warmth. She moaned, her arms wrapping around his back, pulling him closer.

  Why wasn’t she fighting him? He was in the mood to fight, to force, to take. Hurt her like he hurt.

  He tore her shirt up and over her head, recaptured her mouth to silence any objections, and stripped off her bra. His need drove him to feast like a
n animal. He bit, sucked, nipped, taking her breasts into his hands, roughly squeezing, grazing the nipples until they hardened like rocks. Capturing them one at a time in his hot mouth, he sucked hard, flattening the nipple to the roof of his mouth, nipping the end until she squirmed and gasped in his hold. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a handful of his shirt and snatched it off, feeding off the pain pounding in his head. He needed to feel her breasts tight against his chest, his flesh pounding into hers, as her heat warmed him to the core.

  He’d been cold for so very long.

  “Wait,” she gulped as his hands wrenched off her jeans, yanked at her underwear until the silk tore free from her body. “Aidan, wait.”

  There would be no more waiting.

  He recaptured her mouth, speared her with his tongue as he spread her legs wider. Twelve years of lies and betrayal had been long enough. He kicked off his shorts, positioned himself at her opening, grasped her hips in his hands, and drove into her heat with a hard, unforgiving thrust, taking him in to the hilt.

  She cried out, her body arching in his embrace.

  The sound snapped his mind out of the storm he seemed lost in. Each ragged breath he dragged into his lungs was swift and sharp.

  “Raven,” he gasped. What the hell had he done? Oh, God, he’d let the beast rage. “Raven? Oh God, Raven, I’m sorry.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of her shut eyelids. Feeling the lowest of creatures, Aidan inched out of her wet, tight sheath.

  Her legs came up and clamped around his hips, keeping him in place. “It’s okay,” she whispered, opening her eyes. Eyes that reflected pain and sorrow. “It’s just that I-I haven’t done this in a while.”

  He groaned her name, trying once more to pull out of her, but she kept him locked inside. He wasn’t going to last if she didn’t let him go. As it was he teetered on a sharp edge, barely keeping a leash on the beast.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. No, that’s a lie. Part of me does want to hurt you.” He dropped his forehead to rest against hers, not wanting to see the shame added to the pain in her eyes. “But not like this. Never like this.”

  “Aidan,” she said softly, her fingers brushing the hair back from the his face. “Look at me.”

  He raised his head and steeled himself to meet the condemnation in her eyes, but what he saw made him catch his breath.

  “I want you, this. I just wasn’t…prepared.” She arched her hips, and he slid deeper inside her. The sensation, the friction, was the most unbelievable pleasure, causing him to clench his teeth. “I’m ready now.” She lowered her eyes and licked her lips, causing the blood to leave his brain. “But if you need more time…”

  She wasn’t shoving him away? With what he’d done, how he’d pushed, how he’d taken? His eyes never left hers as he slowly slid into her, his heart pounding as she gasped and bit her lip, her eyes shuttering closed in pleasure. That look had haunted him all these years. Showed up in his dreams, catching him unaware when his mind wandered.

  A mad, twisted desire had started this, now wonder joined the mix, along with a need so great his body quaked with it. His hands trembled as they reverently caressed her breasts. Breasts so much softer and fuller than before. Lovely, beautiful, womanly. To touch her like this again after all these years had him choking on emotion. They had missed out on so much. He’d barely learned what she’d liked when they were eighteen. What had caused her to lean into his touch, gasp when he licked, moan and claw when he stroked deep inside her. He knew her, but he didn’t. There was so much that he wanted to learn about the woman she was now.

  His chest rose and fell like bellows as he slowly stroked inside her, savoring each inch of penetration as her inner muscles clenched around his hardness, gripping him in a snare he never wanted to be released from. He’d come home. She was the one. Had always been the one. He settled deeper inside her and held her there, never wanting the moment to end. His eyes met hers, and he saw the emotions churning inside him reflected there. Slowly he leaned down and lightly kissed her lips, caressing the side of her face with his fingers, all the while continuing to stroke in and out. In and out.

  Her hands trembled as they, in turn, traced the features of his face, his chest, the tight muscles of his abs. Her eyes searching his. “Make me fly,” she said, humbling him. “One more time, Aidan. Make me fly.”

  Tears clogged his throat, and he had to swallow rapidly in order not to disgrace himself. He traced his hand down her side, until the heat of his palm covered her tattoo of the raven. His raven. Always his.

  “Yes,” she hissed, her nails digging into the sun on his hip. Both images perfectly aligned, her raven carrying his sun, cradling him within her wings. She arched her hips, taking him deeper, meeting his thrusts as they quickened, hardened. Aidan reached out and grabbed her other hand, tightly lacing his fingers with hers, as he rocked into her again and again until she cried out and took flight.

  He followed, carried on her wings.

  The problem with flying, Raven decided, was that at some point you had to land. She’d never been good at smooth landings. More like crash landings. It didn’t take long for reality to raise its ugly head and demand to know what the hell she’d done.

  The room was cast in shadows as the sun readied for its early bedtime. She hated the long, dark winters, the short hours the sun showed itself.

  Raven lay on her side within Aidan’s protective embrace, his arm wrapped around her back as her head rested on his chest, her leg draped over his. What she would give to have nothing between them. To be able to lay with him like this every night, wake in his arms, soar in his arms.

  Obviously she had no willpower around him. Hard to keep her barriers in place when she was the one widening the cracks between the mortar. She really needed to get dressed and get going, but lying next to Aidan felt so…so…right.

  Boy was she in an avalanche’s worth of trouble. She couldn’t fall in love with him again. A rush of heat swept over her followed by a bone chilling realization. Had she ever stopped loving him?

  Oh, God, she had to get away.

  “Done beating yourself up, yet?” Aidan asked in his husky, sexy, sated voice.

  How she used to treasure talking with him after making love. Listening to that voice, which seemed to caress her all over again as they made plans, spoke of dreams.

  “I need to go.” But she didn’t move. His hand stroked up and down her arm in a lazy pattern. If only they could take another flight. But that would make matters worse. She needed to stay grounded.

  “I know.” He didn’t move either, just continued caressing her arm. “Fox will be getting home from school soon.”

  Oh, God. Fox. The ticking clock felt like it had a bomb attached, and she was out of time. Her son was the reason she’d rushed over here. She still didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say to Aidan. There was one thing she had to get him to agree to before she left. “I need you to keep quiet about being Fox’s father until I can talk to him.”

  Aidan’s hand stopped its downward path and he slowly turned on his side to face her. “Raven, Fox already knows.”

  What? “You told him? Oh, no.” She pushed out of his arms, and grabbed for her clothes. “How could you do that? How did he react? When did you tell him?” Questions fired like bullets while she yanked on her clothes.

  Aidan gingerly sat up in bed, his hand holding his head. It clearly still pained him, but she couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was Fox.

  “Raven, I didn’t tell him.”

  She popped her head through the top of her t-shirt, tugging it down over her hips, and met his gaze. “How else would he know?”

  Aidan closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them she felt his unease. “I think you’d better sit down.”

  His tone, combined with the look on his face, had her slowing her movements as she slipped into her jeans and buttoned them. Raven sat on the edge of the bed, knowing she wasn’t going to like heari
ng whatever Aidan was about to tell her.

  “Fox was the one who told me I was his father.”

  Just like that, the bomb detonated inside her. She couldn’t speak as the static in her head drowned out all other noise.

  “Raven?” Aidan called her name, but it sounded as if it came from a far off place.

  Her vision blurred as the static turned to a shrill, and then a loud banging, as white lights flashed in tiny sparks before her eyes.

  Her world tipped.

  “Raven.” Aidan had her by the shoulders and was shaking her.

  Breathe, damn it. She couldn’t fall apart now, not when she had so much to—somehow—put back together. “I’m okay,” she lied. Would she ever be okay again?

  “Are you sure? You’re pale as snow.” Aidan gazed at her with such concern, it made her want to lean on him, rest her heavy head on his broad shoulders.

  “Did Fox tell you—” She had to pause in order to swallow the sick feeling in her stomach rising up into her throat. “Did he tell you how he knew?” Her boy, her baby, hadn’t come to her with this? Hadn’t asked her if Aidan was his father? Instead, he’d gone to the source. Which really didn’t surprise her. Hurt her, yes, but didn’t surprise her. Fox had always been one to tackle problems head on, rather than take the time Raven needed to sort out the best course of action.

  Aidan enclosed her hands in his, anguish dwelling in the dark depths of his eyes. “Earl told him…when he was seven.”

  Time stopped. The room spun and went deadly quiet except for the sound of her agonized breathing.

  Fox had known since he’d been seven?

  “How the hell did Earl know?” she cried out. Her worst nightmare unveiled and it had happened four years ago.

  “He guessed. Apparently, Fox is the spitting image of me when I was a boy.”

  “I gotta get out of here.” She jumped off the bed and slipped her bare feet into her mukluks. “I have to talk to Fox.”

  “Raven, wait. We’ll talk to him together.” Aidan threw back the covers, his gorgeous nude body causing her to catch her breath for a moment. The reality of what they’d just done stabbed before she could get a hold of herself. Everything was spinning out of control.