“So you unlocked my phone and called her back?”
An eyebrow rose on his forehead imperiously. “Technically, Emmett unlocked your phone.”
I gave him a withering look. Amazing how knuckle-stroking-almost-orgasms only went so far when he took it upon himself to tell Paige about something without asking. My chin rose a notch. “You had no right to do that.”
“I didn’t have your permission, no.” He got on his knees, hands braced on the edge of the mattress, bringing his face closer to mine. “But whether I had the right is debatable. You are in my home with a head injury, and the worst thing I could imagine as a parent is if something awful happened and I didn’t know.”
My withering look softened into something a little less … withery because he wasn’t wrong.
“She wasn’t mad,” he told me. “They switched to the first flight out this morning. I think they’ll be here after breakfast.”
My shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”
“I know.”
Carefully, I flexed my fingers, turning my hand back and forth so I could see it in the light. It was swollen but not terribly. The bruising would be ugly, but I was so fortunate. Anya was so fortunate.
“But maybe,” he said, “it’s okay to let people worry about you every once in a while. It doesn’t mean you’re a burden. It sure as hell doesn’t mean you’re weak because that is the last thing you are.”
I almost swayed in his direction. Once Logan and Paige got me and Emmett, once we pulled out of his driveway, I probably wouldn’t see him for a few days. Certainly not like this.
In general, I wasn’t an impulsive person. I was decisive, and that was different. It didn’t take me long to decide about … anything, really, because I always had the sense of which course of action made the most sense.
At this moment, I knew I was going to touch Aiden because I couldn’t not touch him.
“I think I’m done sleeping,” I said quietly. I inhaled slowly, and he was so close—even though I was staring at my hand, and he was staring at me. It felt safer that way, to keep my gaze off his. With my good hand, I slid my fingers over his, and relished in the way he breathed out. Aiden’s hand was so much bigger than my own. It would span so much of my body with those fingers fanned out.
As I moved my fingertips over his knuckles, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had the same effect on him as it had on me.
Instead of fighting the impulse that tugged my body toward him, I let it flow through me. A hot sweep of power had me turning my head and resting my forehead against his temple. Underneath my palm, his fingers curled up into a tight fist. The muscles in his forearms flexed, and he breathed out of his nose, a short puff of air that sounded loud in my ears.
And that big man, who caused such big feelings, he didn’t move away. Neither did I.
I slid my hand up his forearm, curled my fingers around his shifting muscle and sinew, until I felt the hard knot of his elbow, the tight, hot curve of his bicep underneath his skin. My teeth dug into my bottom lip when I saw, through heavily weighted eyes, the way his jaw flexed and bunched.
Grab me.
Touch me.
Kiss me.
My demands almost fell past my lips, but I yanked the words back in because I didn’t dare break the spell.
Maybe it wasn’t a spell, I wondered, as my fingers curled, the tips of my nails digging slightly into the surface of his skin. Maybe this was me sticking my hand willingly into the fire, just to see if it would burn the way I imagined.
His whole body trembled when—with the slightest lift to my chin—my lips swept over his cheekbone. If he ever unleashed the full force of himself on me, I’d probably snap in half from the impact.
Aiden sank in, just an inch, his own forehead resting now on my bare shoulder. His exhale, heavy and hot, snaked down the gap in my shirt, and when it hit my breast, a sound escaped from the back of my throat.
His hand, still fisted on the bed, shot forward, and with a hard press of his hand on my good hip, my legs unfolded like he flipped a switch. He curled that big hand along my lower back, under my shirt, and tugged me forward on the bed. My hand slid the rest of the way up his arm, over his shoulder, and my fingers curled around the back of his neck.
And then nothing.
Our heads stayed just as they were—his pressed into my shoulder, mine tucked against his—like neither of us dared to move.
We’d both taken one step up to the invisible line because a touch could be ignored, but the second his lips hit mine, the second I knew what his tongue felt like slick and sliding against my own, the line would be obliterated.
Obliterated.
Such a good word for what he was capable of doing to me. Aiden Hennessy was huge, and my toes curled helplessly at the feel of him pressed between my legs. All it would take is a tip backward, a tug of a few meaningless scraps of material, and I’d be his.
Please, I mouthed against his cheek.
“Fuck,” he whispered, a tortured whisper that made my thighs clench around his hips. “I can’t,” he hissed.
Aiden shoved away from the bed and stood, striding out of the room before I could take my next breath.
I fell back on the bed, hand pressed over my hammering chest, and wondered if it was possible to die from built-up sexual tension.
Even though the door was open, and I heard the bang of a kitchen cabinet, I stayed right where I was. There was nothing to be gained from following him out of the bedroom, from pushing him on why he held up this imaginary line.
Or not now.
This night felt like a crossroads. The moment we just shared was a road diverging into two distinct paths in front of us.
Admittedly, his was even bigger than mine. He was moving on from a love he’d lost. I was simply taking a first step toward something that large.
Wearily, I rose from the bed and walked into the massive bathroom attached to his room. The sunken white tub looked pretty amazing, along with stretches of gleaming tile and a glass-enclosed shower. My whole body ached, and I couldn’t even tell how much of it came from what just happened with Aiden, a letdown of energy that had propped me up for that moment in time.
In the mirror over the double vanity, I leaned in and studied the cut on my forehead. There was minimal bruising around it, which was good. Maybe Paige wouldn’t lose her shit too badly when she saw me.
Everything about the past twenty-four hours was hitting me at the same time. The entire roller coaster almost too much for my body to process.
I just wanted … to float. Feel warm and clean and good.
Decision made, I walked over to the tub and flipped the water on, testing the water when it got to the right temperature. There was no fancy bath soap in his bathroom, but I found some good old-fashioned Epsom salt in the linen closet, which I poured under the running water. It dissolved in the water as I swept my hand around the crystals.
There was no more banging in the kitchen, and I walked back into the bedroom to grab the clean clothes out of my backpack. As I straightened, I caught sight of Aiden sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.
When I paused in the doorway, he lifted his head, and our eyes met.
“If it’s okay with you, I’m going to take a bath,” I said.
His eyes burned bright, but he didn’t answer.
“Unless you feel like explaining to me why you can’t,” I added. “Because I’d love to understand it.”