by Jill Shalvis
“Just the way I like you.”
With steam rising all around them, vanishing like tendrils of fog into the night above, she stared into his eyes and then at his mouth. “You’re having fun at my expense?”
“It was my turn.”
Her dress had suctioned itself to her skin. And being the palest of blues, it had also gone sheer. The effect was more erotic than if she’d been naked, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of her. “Christ, Lily, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He nudged a wet spaghetti strap off her shoulder.
“You dunked me,” she repeated, apparently still stuck on that thought.
“Yeah. Felt good. You feel good.” He encouraged her other strap to fall as well.
“What are you doing?”
“We obviously need to do this more often so you aren’t confused,” he said, still bent to his task of getting her naked.
She swiped water from her face. “What if my dress is dry clean only?”
“I’ll apologize and buy you a new one.” With her still in his arms he turned and pinned her against the tile. He knew he had her when her eyes ran down his chest and abs and then into the swirling water for the rest of him and her breathing changed. He fought the urge to crush his mouth to hers, needing her to want him as badly as he wanted her.
“I didn’t think we’d be doing this again,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because …” She paused and that’s when he knew. She was most definitely feeling the same as he was, and she was still scared. They weren’t just having fun, or exorcising ghosts. They weren’t just scratching an itch. It was more, far more, and he wanted her to say it. “Because what?” he asked, pressing a thigh between hers.
“Because it wasn’t just sex,” she whispered, eyes heated. “Was it?”
Eyes on hers, he slowly shook his head, getting even harder when she rocked into him. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I’m not ready for what this is,” she said breathlessly.
“What do you think this is?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it, either unable or unwilling to define it.
“Lily, whatever you think is happening between us, it’s under control,” he said, meaning to reassure her. But he knew that though he meant those words, the truth was he had no control over his feelings for her. He was in love, she was leaving, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about that.
She stared at him for a long beat. “I won’t want to stop,” she whispered.
Thank Christ, he thought as a groan shuddered through him. He lowered his head, skimming his lips up her throat, along her jaw to her ear, wanting her to do that thing where she hissed out a breath and clutched at him like he was the only anchor in a spinning world.
And then she did exactly that.
When he finally kissed her, she arched her wet, warm body harder into him, her breathing already labored, her hands sliding along his shoulders. One of her hands curled around the back of his neck, sinking her fingers into his hair as she slowly deepened the kiss, giving into him with the sexiest sigh of acquiescence he’d ever heard.
And there in the moonlight, surrounded by a zillion stars and a beautiful, wet, warm woman, he leaned in close and watched her eyes dilate. Then he nibbled the curve where her neck met her shoulder, tracing his tongue over the spot as he ran his hands under the water and down her body, beneath her dress, sliding his palms slowly along her thighs, bringing the material of her skirt up with them.
“Aidan—”
“Hold this,” he murmured against her mouth when he had the dress up around her waist.
When her hands reached down and gripped the dress, holding it up for him, he kissed her again and encouraged the bodice of the sundress to slip.
She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her eyes were wide on his, her mouth open a little, like maybe she needed it that way just to breathe. Her expression said she wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he was up to.
Which was just as well, since what he was up to was no good. He cupped her breasts and bent his head to them.
She seemed to melt then, and he liked to think that if he didn’t have such a grip on her she’d have glided into a boneless heap at the bottom of the hot tub.
But he did have her.
He knew he always would.
“What if someone comes?” she whispered.
“No one’s coming but you.” And then he slid his hand between her legs, finding her hot and slick and ready. “God, Lily.”
“Aidan—”
“No one’s home tonight,” he promised. “By some miracle even Kenna’s out at a movie.”
When she closed her eyes, swallowed hard and then moaned her pleasure, he knew he had her. He played his fingers over her and she sighed again, completely relaxing into his touch. Trusting. Pliant. “You want this,” he murmured.
“I want you,” she agreed. “Always have.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love, not even close, so why did it feel like one? He kissed her again, this kiss intense and lingering.
She whispered against his lips soundlessly, but he heard her. Felt her.
“Now. Please.”
Yes. Now. He lifted her to the edge of the tub. Water splashed as he put hands on her thighs and gently nudged them wide, making himself at home in between.
The only light came from the stars and crescent moon but it was enough to see clearly. She looked beautiful. He wanted this to last all night, but all his good intentions slipped when she whispered his name again, husky, needy. Hungry.
Hungry for him, thank God.
He kissed a slow trail down her body, lingering over her breasts. He took his time, rasping his work-roughened fingers over her quivering flesh, then his mouth as her hips began to rock, silently asking him for more, which he gladly gave. For long moments the only sounds were the night crickets, the gentle slosh of the water, and her soft sighs of pleasure that drove him wild. Her teeth were gritted, her lips parted, her breath coming in little gasps. “Aidan— I’m going to—”
“Come,” he said against her. “I want to watch you.”
She shuddered around him, and his own body vibrated with the need to let go right along with her. Lifting her in his arms, he turned and sank into the water, sitting with his back to the tile.
Her face was pressed into the curve of his shoulder as she worked at catching her breath. He stroked her body, bringing her down slowly. When she stirred and kissed his throat, and then bit him lightly, he knew he was in trouble.
And sure enough she shifted, humming her pleasure deep in her throat at finding him hard as a rock. Raising her face to his she straddled him—but he stopped her.
“Not here,” he said, his voice nearly unrecognizable in its gravelly roughness, even to himself. He tried to hold her still, but that was an impossible feat and every single oscillation of those sexy hips threatened to get him off right then and there.
“Why not?” she asked, cupping his face, running her mouth over his jaw, his ear, back to his mouth, his throat, everywhere she could reach. “You did me. Now I want to do you.”
Yeah, she was going to be the death of him. “Condom,” he managed to grate out. “I don’t have one out here.”
Her eyes met his. “I’m on the pill. I tried to tell you last time, but I could barely think much less speak. You don’t need a condom, Aidan. I’ve never not used one, but I trust you.”
This last line was said just as the jets kicked off, so her words echoed louder than the others into the air and right into his heart.
I trust you.
How was he supposed to keep things light and easy and not scary for her when she said things like that to him? He had no idea what he’d done to inspire her trust, but he was grateful, and aroused as he’d ever been. He’d never had sex without a condom, either, had never even thought about it, but he didn’t want a condom with Lily. He wanted nothing between them.
She kissed him this time as she raised up on he
r knees and sank down on him, taking him deep, so deep that his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.
Then she whimpered, her fingers digging into his biceps and he held her hips still. “Did I hurt you?”
“No— Please,” she whispered, undulating with the need for more. “Aidan, please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He could barely get the words out, he was holding on by a thread.
“You’re not … Don’t stop. Oh, God, just don’t stop.” She made another little orbit with her hips and Aidan lost whatever little bit of restraint he had. Her arms were around his neck, tight enough to suffocate him, and he didn’t care. Holding on, he began to move with her.
She gasped his name—he fucking loved that—and smiled at him. He loved that, too, and in less than two seconds he was breathing like a dying man. And he was dying. Of pleasure. He ran every day in full gear. He shouldn’t be out of breath from having a woman ride him like a bronco.
But it wasn’t the exertion.
It was all her. How many nights had he spent over the years fantasizing about this, with her, and he’d never once come close to the reality of being buried deep inside her.
They moved together like they’d been made for this, their bodies perfectly in sync. No awkwardness, no hoping that she was as far gone as he.
She wasn’t only right there with him, she’d somehow climbed inside him.
Snugging her thighs to his hips, she held him close, her hands roaming his chest, arms and back, sometimes sliding up into his hair to grip him tight, her breathing quick and shallow, her cheeks flushed with desire as she met his gaze, never looking away.
He felt like he could see all the way into her, a glimpse of the woman she so often hid. And she was so damn beautiful she made his throat ache.
They stared at each other as they moved, and when he slid a hand between their bodies and touched her, just slid his thumb across her center, she whispered “yes …” and began to come, her head falling back, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name again.
She was lost in him, and knowing he’d gotten her there made him feel about ten feet tall. It also made him come right along with her, and he pulled her down over him so he could bury his face in the curve of her neck as he let go of everything but this.
When his sanity returned he knew he was doomed. Just as he knew the truth.
He didn’t have one ounce of control over what was happening between them.
He knew eventually he’d be forced to move on when she left town, but he’d done it once. He could do it again. Probably.
From somewhere outside the hot tub he heard his phone beep. He hoped like hell it wasn’t any sort of emergency because he didn’t think he could get up to look. Fact was, he wasn’t all that sure he still had legs. At least he wasn’t on call tonight …
“Aidan.” Lily stirred. “Your phone—”
“I’m not on call tonight. Ignore it.”
“Hmm.” She ran a finger down his chest, past his abs, and south. “Like I’m supposed to be ignoring this?” She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked.
“Jesus, Lily.”
“Nope. Just me.”
He choked out a laugh and managed to get them both out of the tub and lay her on his lounge chair, where he stopped to take one long look at her spread out all wet and gleaming and naked.
Then he made himself at home between her legs.
“Again?” she whispered hopefully.
“Again,” he said, and followed through on the only promise she was ready for him to make.
Long before Lily’s heart rate made its way back to normal, her purse began vibrating like it was having a seizure. “My cell phone,” she said lazily.
“Let it go.”
She bit her lower lip. She wasn’t good at letting things go. It went against the grain. But she didn’t make a move for her phone.
Aidan gave her a smile that said he was going to reward her and yanked her into him just as her phone went off again.
For a beat she just dropped her head to his chest, but then she imagined all that could be wrong if someone was calling twice in a row. Maybe her mom, with an emergency. With reluctance she pushed away from Aidan and climbed off the lounge.
When she bent for her purse, he let out a rough sound of pure male appreciation behind her.
“Nice view,” he said.
She looked down at herself. Completely naked. She’d actually forgotten. She’d never forgotten before. She supposed that meant she was comfortable with him, shockingly so. Dripping water everywhere, she pawed through her purse and grabbed her phone. Jonathan. “Hey,” she said into the phone.
“I need you at the salon. We have an emergency.”
“An emergency?”
Aidan stood up, eyes sharp, reaching for his pants.
“What is it?” she asked Jonathan. “Did you call nine-one-one?”
“Not that kind of emergency. We’ve got a reality star up here. She sneaked away for the weekend to slum it in the Rockies with someone from her show. Unfortunately that someone isn’t her husband. They were playing some waxing game and she messed up her hair.”
“And you can’t fix it?”
“Yeah, I’m not talking about the hair on her head,” he said.
“Oh.” She winced. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” She disconnected and looked at Aidan. “I’ve gotta go.”
“What is it? I can call dispatch on our way.”
“It’s a hair emergency.”
He stopped cold and looked completely baffled. “There’s such a thing as a hair emergency?” he asked. “How about I claim to have a hair emergency too?”
“Actually it’s more of a waxing emergency,” she said.
He stared at her for a beat and then let out a rough laugh. “Okay, I can’t compete with that.” He moved to her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deep like he couldn’t get enough of her.
It gave her a warm fuzzy all over.
“I’ll take you,” he said.
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s late, it’s dark, I’ll take you. You can text me when you’re done and I’ll come back for you.” He kissed her when she started to protest. Then he pulled back, cupped her face, and looked into her eyes. “Thanks for tonight.”
She laughed. “Are you thanking me for all the sex?”
“Yes,” he said. “Although, as previously discussed, we both know it was more than just that, hot as it was.”
She opened her mouth but he kissed her again, effectively shutting her up.
“I love you, Lily,” he said easily against her lips.
She went still in utter shock, not at the words—though they were pretty shocking, but at the casual ease he had in saying them.
I love you, Lily.
Like he was just stating a fact, no big deal.
With a light smile—and no apparent expectations from her—he handed her a towel and then brought her some of his sweats to wear before taking her to work.
Chapter 23
Aidan got to the station at the usual seven a.m. Unlike usual, he was already tired. Probably because he hadn’t gotten much sleep. At the thought of what—who—had kept him up, he was smiling when he clocked in.
He’d picked Lily up from the salon an hour after he’d dropped
