Aidan (10 page)

Finally, when I’m so lightheaded and limp that I’m not sure I can take any more pleasure, I feel his warm seed shoot deep inside me and he yells my name on a hoarse shout.

“Every time, princess. So good,” he says quietly.

I expect him to pull away after that. To want some distance between us. Aidan was charmingly affectionate in our time together, but I wouldn’t really call it intimate, but for possibly a few occasions. Today is different, though. I wince a bit as he pulls his cock from me, and I feel the moisture begin to trickle out. He pulls me tighter and somehow finds his feet while balancing my weight against him. He walks through his home until we reach the bathroom. Still holding me, he sticks a hand into the oversize shower in the corner, turns both knobs, and then steps inside. Only then does he gently put me on my feet, while luckily keeping an arm around me until I’m steady. His eyes are hooded as he washes himself and then turns to do the same with me. It’s as if his mind is a million miles away, no doubt processing the last few days. Maybe my arrival too. There’s nothing sexual in his touch now; he’s focused on the task at hand and does it with brisk efficiency. I yearn to know how I can best care for him, yet at this moment, he
needs
to look after me. When we’re both clean to his satisfaction, he steps out and grabs a couple of towels from a nearby closet, wrapping one around his hips. He helps me out and carefully enfolds me in the other one, kissing me on the forehead as he does. “Come on, beautiful, let’s get you dry and then we’ll have a bite to eat.”

He has me sit on the large vanity and dries my hair. I don’t know what to make of this Aidan, who seems intent on catering to my every need. Maybe he needs this busywork right now to take his mind off his loss. With that in mind, I don’t voice any objections as he leads me to the bedroom next and into a huge walk-in closet where he locates a T-shirt for me. He quickly dresses in a pair of basketball shorts and another T-shirt, and then we’re heading back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll make something for us?” I offer. I expect him to argue, but surprisingly, he goes to a barstool without complaint.
It’s been five weeks, but preparing food for him in his kitchen feels normal.
I pad around his luxury kitchen and take a moment to appreciate the array of granite and stainless steel. I wonder if he cooks a lot because he certainly has the best of everything here. I quickly wash my hands before I sift through the cabinets and come up with a box of spaghetti and a jar of gourmet marinara sauce. Perfect. Quick and easy. I put a pot of water on to boil and open the jar. I put the tip of my finger in and then stick it in my mouth. Bold flavors explode on my tongue, and I moan my approval.

I startle when Aidan says, “You’re killing me over here, princess. If you don’t get that finger out of your mouth, you’ll be sucking something else pretty soon.” His eyes are on fire when I look over at him, and I wonder how in the world he can want me again after just fucking me minutes ago. But I’ve learned that Aidan needs little to no recovery time, and he’s certainly never had a problem with admitting how much he desires me. I giggle and stick my tongue out at him before finding another pot for the sauce and dumping it in. He clears his throat then surprises me by saying, “Thanks for being here today, babe. You’ve no idea how much I needed it—and you.”

My throat tightens, and my eyes water as his words wrap around me and squeeze my heart. This is a different Aidan than I knew before. He’s quieter, but somehow even more intense. Losing his mother has changed something fundamentally inside him, and I’m not sure what to make of it. “You’re . . . welcome,” I manage to stutter out. Then for some reason, I keep talking even though I try to tell myself to stop. “I wasn’t sure if I should come or not. I mean I know that what we had was like a beach fling or whatever the cool people are calling it these days, but we’re connected through our families so that makes us friends as well—I think. But I don’t want you to feel as if I’m stalking you or anything. I didn’t expect to pick up where we left off when I came back, so if you’re afraid of that, then don’t worry.” He gets off his stool and walks toward me. Actually, it’s more like stalking. He looks amused and something else I can’t define. And dear God, the verbal diarrhea just continues to dribble from my mouth. “Or I could just go right now. Wait, I’ll finish making you dinner since I said I would, but you must be ready to relax, and you probably don’t want to entertain.” I laugh, and it sounds horribly shrill and nervous as I add, “I don’t want to be that guest who came and didn’t know when to leave. No one wants to be—”

His fingers clamp down on my lips, and weird shrieks escape as I still attempt to talk around them. “Baby—shut the fuck up.” He chuckles. “Do you realize that you haven’t taken a breath in at least two minutes?” He releases my mouth and gently moves me to the side so he can add the spaghetti to the now boiling water. Then he’s back, and his hands are on my hips. “Now, let’s get a couple of things straight, princess. I’m not your buddy or your friend. Truthfully, I don’t know what the hell I am. But I don’t want to fuck my friends or family so that means you’re neither. I want you here with me so don’t even think about leaving. We don’t need to have all the answers tonight or make this into something complicated.” He takes my face in his hands and drops a kiss on my mouth. “I just want to spend some time—with you. Let’s take it as it comes and see where we go. No running, no freaking out. Just two people enjoying each other. Can you do that, princess?”

Even as I tell myself to make up some excuse and leave, I find my traitorous mouth murmuring, “Yeah, I can do that.”

And that’s the moment that I’ll look back on. That one fleeting instance when I could have done the right thing, but I let my heart lead me astray. I convinced myself that he needed me for a little longer. Hadn’t he lost his mother? Weren’t friends supposed to be there for you no matter the cost? Yeah, I sold myself on every one of those sentimental pieces of drivel. And it would all come back to haunt me when the truth came out. But I couldn’t stop.

It was already too late for me.

I’d fallen for a man I barely knew, and the clock had been ticking down the time we had together since before our first kiss.

I can hardly believe Kara is here and sleeping soundly in my bed. Making my way up the aisle in the church carrying my mother’s body in that fucking cold metal box, I’d been as close to losing my shit in public as I’d ever been. I’d been seriously afraid I was going to have some kind of panic attack right there. My eyes had flittered around me, desperately seeking a diversion. At first, I had passed right over her. My mind sluggish and my thoughts scattered. Then something had penetrated the fog that surrounded me, and I’d turned my head, seeking her out once again. And there she stood staring at me in a rare, unguarded moment. Her eyes had been full of pain and emotion. She’ll never know how much it meant to me that she was there. Her very presence calmed and leveled me enough that I was able to carry on. I kept telling myself to just get through the rest of the service, and then I could find her and escape. And that’s exactly what I’d done.

The night closes in around me as I think again about the last moments with my mother. She had died two days after our talk. I’d known in my heart that it was her final goodbye, even though other than her difficulty breathing, she’d seemed just like her old self. Somehow, she’d managed to conserve her strength for God knows how long to have that time with my father and me. I’d been on autopilot ever since. Arrangements were made and finalized. Friends and coworkers were in and out, and I said all the right things. I even joked around when inside I wanted to tell them to get the fuck out. Only Luc seemed to know what was simmering right below the surface. I could feel his understanding empathy. That much penetrated the protective haze I was hiding behind. He’d dealt with enough trauma in his life to understand that sometimes you just had to shut down or else you’d lose it.

Dad was doing better than I would have expected. Although, I’m sure it’s hitting him about now that she’s never coming back. When someone dies, there’s so little time to dwell on your loss because you’re mired down in the details. Behind everything in life, there’s a business, and death is no exception. Services are rendered, and people have to be paid. I’d wager that the toughest time grieving people face is the week after the funeral. Then you’re finally alone, and there’s nothing left to do. People have moved on with their lives, and you’re left in an empty house with some leftover cake and a fuck load of memories.
And very alone.

I’m not sure that death is ever easy. Everyone assumes that they’ll live to a ripe old age. When your grandparents die, it’s upsetting, but you kind of expect it. What you don’t plan on is the suddenness with which someone you love can be wrenched from this world. Cassie’s death happened so quickly that it was over before I could even process it. I spent a year trying to figure out exactly what the fuck went wrong. It was senseless and downright horrifying. It was also an eye-opening look into how fleeting life can be. Before that, even with her living in a mental institution, I still thought I had all the time in the world to make things better. Yeah, not so fucking fast, said the universe. Want to know how small and insignificant you are in the scheme of things? Try to save someone you love.

I liken someone attempting to beat cancer to pissing in the wind. All my efforts appeared to serve no purpose and to be absolutely pointless. Again, the grim reaper was just around the corner, and he doesn’t fucking fight fair. Hell, the battle was over before I even knew it had started. I guess I should be grateful that I had a few stolen moments in both instances that I’ll carry with me forever before they were gone. I’d been angry with God and the world when Cassie died. With my mom, I feel nothing but overwhelming sorrow. I never imagined a life without either one of my parents. They’d always seemed ageless to me. There’s also a healthy dose of guilt for the fact that I basically cut them out of my life for a year, and they loved me enough to give me that, even when she was sick. I want those days, weeks, and months back. What I wouldn’t give to walk in the door of my childhood home in the morning and hear her calling out to me. As their only son, I feel as if I’ve failed them both. And even though it’s too late to make it up to her, I vow that I will honor her wish of watching out for my father. It’s the only thing I can remember her ever truly asking of me. Plus, I’m pretty damn sure her promise of watching us from above is true. If anyone can manage that, it will be my mother. Heaven doesn’t know what’s in store for with Ginny Spencer in residence now.

Kara mumbles something under her breath and burrows deeper under the covers. The moonlight shining in from the window makes her look like an angel. Her arms are wrapped around one of my pillows, and she’s snoring delicately. It amazes me how much I’ve come to care about her in such a short amount of time. The weeks apart hasn’t changed that. If anything, I feel closer to her now. There’s been a shift in our relationship, and I can pinpoint the exact moment when I knew she felt it too. In the kitchen earlier when she’d been rattling on, and I’d said that I wanted to spend time with her and asked if she could give me that. Her first instinct had been to run. It was written all over her face. Hell, I’d even braced for the rejection. But she’d fought past whatever was holding her back and had agreed. After that, the tension had left her body, and for the first time since we met, she’d given me all of herself for the rest of the evening. I had no idea what would happen when we woke in the morning, but I’ll cross that bridge when I had to. The one thing I do know is that I plan to see where things go with her. I’d promised my mother not to close myself off, and since Kara is the only woman other than Cassie to ever make me feel, I can’t ignore the possibility of something there worth pursuing.

With my mind now as tired as my body, I relax back into the bed and pull her into my arms. She wraps herself around me as if she’d been doing it for years, and I feel at peace for the first time in weeks as I drift away, lulled by the sound of her heart beating against mine.

I
’d argued
, but Aidan insisted on dropping me off at my parents’ house. My mother had called that morning to let me know they’d arrived home during the night and were eager to see me. Pretty sure that translated into, “Someone told us you were all over Aidan Spencer at his mother’s funeral.” When he pulls into the circular drive and puts the car in park, I unbuckle my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride,” I say lightly with one hand already on the door handle.

He reaches out and grips my arm. “Let me walk you in. I don’t want your parents to think I just dumped you and took off.”

I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. There is no way I want him running into my parents. I don’t want them accidentally blurting something out, even though there’s no reason they would. You have to worry about that kind of stuff when you’re living a lie, though. Little things tripping you up. “We’re not in high school, babe. You don’t have to shake my father’s hand and promise him that you didn’t go past first base last night.” Wiggling my brows, I add, “Because we both know you hit a homer to right field and slid into the plate.”

He throws back his head and chuckles. God, I love this Aidan. He’s so flipping sexy like this. I feel ridiculously pleased with myself that I’m the one who’s managed to chase some of the shadows from those beautiful blue eyes. I can’t stand the thought of them returning, as they inevitably will. After all, he just buried his mother yesterday. He’s a long way from carefree. “I like the dirty baseball references, princess. They make my dick hard.” Shaking his head, he murmurs, “Of course, just being in the same zip code with you makes me that way.”

I put my hand over his zipper and feel the truth in his words. “You’ve certainly got a problem there, slugger. Maybe we can get in some batting practice later. You know—help you improve that swing and all.” I giggle at his indignant expression. Men and their fragile egos. One word about their performance and they’re sulking.

I have my door open, and I’m giving him my best angelic smile when he says, “You’d better take it easy today, sweetheart. Tonight, I’ll hit a fastball right down the centerline. I can’t be responsible for what happens if you fail to field it.” My knees squeeze together as his words have their desired effect on me. Naturally, he doesn’t miss it, and I swear his ego is so damn big I’m surprised it fits in the car. “If you’re a good girl, princess, I’ll take care of that for you later on. Now close the door and your mouth so I can leave. Otherwise, I’m walking you to the door and telling your daddy what a bad girl you’ve been.”

I slam the door so hard the car rocks. Then I move quickly down the walkway and ring the doorbell since I don’t have my house key with me. A quick glance over my shoulder has me sagging in relief when I see Aidan pulling back out onto the main road. I swear the bastard loves to see me squirm. I can only imagine how uncomfortable he may feel spending just five minutes with my parents. Tons of double-entendre might fly over my mother’s head but would likely register with my father eventually. He prides himself on maintaining his street lingo for some reason. I know that he and my uncle Lee basically raised themselves and lived a life that he’ll never fully reveal to his children. I don’t know if my mother even knows the whole story. I’ve heard enough rumors to know that my uncle is a powerful man on both sides of the law. There’s no way I’d be working for him now, though, if my father thought for a minute anything illegal was happening at Falco Industries.

My father opens the door with a frown on his face. “Hey, baby, why’re you ringing the bell? Last time I checked, you still lived here.”

“Hey, Daddy.” I smile before throwing myself into his muscular arms. I’m close to both of my parents, but my father and I share so many similar traits that we can often finish each other’s sentences. There has always been a special bond between us, and I’m so thankful for him. I’ve had him wrapped around my finger from the moment I knew it was possible, and that’s never changed.

He enfolds me in a strong embrace, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. “God, I’ve missed my girl so much.” He sighs against the top of my hair. When I pull back, he studies my face as if looking for answers before he asks the first questions. “How’ve you been, baby? I was on the verge of begging your uncle to evict you so you’d come home. You know how your mother worries.” I bite back a smile because we both know my father is the one who stresses over his family.

“I’m doing great, Daddy,” I assure him. “It’s good to be home, though. Where are Mom and Kyle?”

“Your brother is on some trip with his fraternity.” Cringing, he adds, “The less I know about that, the better. When he needs bail money, I’m sure I’ll hear from him. And your mom is in the kitchen having coffee. I’ll go ahead and warn you that one of her friends told her about you and Aidan Spencer being
affectionate
toward each other. She barely slept a wink last night. What’s going on there—”

“Pete, who was at the door?” my mother calls from the other room.

My dad shakes his head ruefully and motions me forward. “I swear it’s like she knows,” he whispers as we make our way down the hall and into the bright and airy kitchen at the end of it. My mother is sitting at the kitchen table wearing her reading glasses while she flips through the morning paper. She’s a gorgeous woman who has maintained her slim build and has beautiful, long blond hair. She could easily pass for someone years younger than her forty-five. I’ve always been so proud to have such a beautiful mom. Other kids were embarrassed when their moms dropped by school, but I was the exact opposite.

Her face lights up when she sees me in the doorway. She gets to her feet and crosses the room at a near run. I’m once again hugged tightly. “Oh sweetheart, there you are. Your father has been just beside himself since you’ve been gone. I could barely keep him from going after you.” I turn my head sideways and smirk at my dad. He gives me a sheepish grin as if to acknowledge that he’s been busted but couldn’t care less. She takes my hand and pulls me toward the table. “Come sit down and tell us what you’ve been up to. Did you make any new friends while you were away?”

My father winks at me as he takes a seat next to my mother. We both know she’s dying to ask about Aidan but is hoping I’ll just volunteer the information. “I had a nice, relaxing vacation at the beach. I did a lot of walking and swimming. I made a few friends there. The bartender at the outdoor bar was awesome. We’re officially Facebook friends now, and I’m following him on Twitter. It’s too soon for Instagram, but I can’t rule it out.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing at my mother’s bemused expression. My dad is looking everywhere but at us, trying to keep his smile under control as well. We both know I’m screwing with her, but she still hasn't put it together yet.

“Er . . . I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice man. But what about Aidan Spencer?” she finally blurts out. “Catherine Sullivan said you were all up on him at his mother’s funeral yesterday.”

All up on him?
I mouth to my father as he looks away with his shoulders shaking. Oh, dear Lord, my mother must be watching reality television again. When she was addicted to
Jersey Shore,
it was impossible to have a conversation with her that didn’t include some type of slang. She’s a member of two county clubs, for heaven’s sake. How have those blue bloods not shamed her out of that habit by now? “Aidan is a . . . friend of mine,” I finally say. “I was helping him through a difficult situation.”

This time, my father cuts in with, “But how do you even know him? I mean you’ve probably met in passing somewhere along the line, but that’s it, right?”

“Well, that’s actually an interesting story,” I say brightly. “Turns out he was also staying in Charleston while I was there. We met one night at the outdoor bar and recognized each other.”

My mother wrinkles her nose, looking perplexed as she asks, “So you what—became friends?”

Boy, what a tough crowd.
Their eyes focus on me as if waiting for my answer anxiously. “Um . . . kind of,” I say evasively. “We had dinner together some evenings and hung out on the beach.”

Showing no sign of lightening up on the rapid-fire questions, my mom asks, “Is he your boyfriend now?” Then she makes quotation marks with her fingers and adds, “Or is this a casual hook up? I mean, if you were that close at the funeral, there must be a little more going on here than friends. From what I remember, he’s quite the hunk.” My father clears his throat as if voicing his objection of her description, and she pats him on the hand. “Oh relax, babe, I’m just giving Kara some support.”

I get to my feet and grab a cup out of a nearby cabinet then pour myself some coffee. After a few sips, I settle back in my seat before admitting, “I don’t really know what Aidan is. We were kind of seeing each other in Charleston, but then he found out about his mom and had to come back. We didn’t stay in touch after that. That is partly my fault because he did text me a few times. Then Uncle Lee told me about his mother passing away, and I don’t know . . . I felt like I needed to be here.” Although I’m not planning to share every detail with my parents, it is actually really good to talk to someone about Aidan. During our weeks together, but especially during our weeks apart, I didn’t tell anyone. I don’t have many close girlfriends anymore, so speaking about him is in some ways cathartic. Necessary. A . . . relief.

“You could do worse,” my mom adds helpfully. “From what I’ve gathered from your father and Google, he’s a very successful man. He’s the best friend and right hand of Lucian Quinn.”

Exasperated, I say, “Mom, I know who Lucian is. After all, my cousin is married to him. And why in the world would you be googling Aidan? Isn’t that some kind of invasion of privacy?”

“Not if he doesn’t know about it,” she argues. “Plus, you’re my only daughter. It’s my job to make sure you’re not dating some kind of pervert or convict. Did you know that almost all states have their criminal records online now? For a small fee, a parent can really have some peace of mind.”

I drop my head onto the table, barely resisting the urge to bang it a few times for good measure. Why in the world did my father ever buy her a computer? I swear the woman can tell you the address of every sex offender in the state. Now, she’s adding Aidan to her usual round of nosy detective work. Knowing him, he’ll be amused, but I don’t want to risk finding out. “Dad,” I mumble without raising my head, “can you please pull the plug on her Wi-Fi access?” He chuckles, and I’m afraid I hear them kissing like teenagers. I stay where I am for a few moments longer to miss their usual PDA before lifting my head and frowning at their flushed expressions. As much as I grumble about it, I love the fact that my parents are still so crazy about each other.

“Sorry, baby,” my dad says not looking in the least repentant. “You know your mother is a free spirit. Just be glad that I draw the line at letting her break into Aidan’s house or lift his fingerprints.”

“You can actually do that now, you know,” my mother pipes in. “Have someone use a glass and then mail it to this company that charges fifty dollars to run them through their nationwide system.”

My father and I both groan at the same time. “That’s great to know, Mom, I’ll keep that in mind,” I say sarcastically. I’m surprised I ever had a date growing up. Luckily, she’s able to keep some of her crazy under wraps when there are guests present.

Then comes the inevitable question that I always hate because it’s no longer just an innocent inquiry into my well-being. “So, honey, how have you been feeling?” my mom asks, looking me up and down as if hunting for defective parts.

“I’m good, Mom. Well rested from my vacation and ready to get back to work for Uncle Lee.”

“You remember you have an appointment with your oncologist in a few weeks, right?” my dad asks quietly. The mood in the kitchen is so damn somber now. Mentioning the dreaded cancer takes us all back to those days of chemo and surgery. Another thing I hate about this fucking disease is that we’ll never be a normal family again. It’s always there below the surface. The dread, the worry, the uncertainty.

Keeping my face carefully blank, I nod my head. “I know. I set a reminder on my phone. It’s routine, though, so there’s no need to worry you guys.”

My mom’s hands tremble on her cup as she asks, “You’re still doing your breast exams, right? Early detection is so important. I wish you’d had the double mastectomy. Why didn’t—”

“Mom,” I say sternly. “The doctor said it wasn’t necessary, and the cancer can come back somewhere else.”

“We’re not trying to upset you,” my dad says quietly. “We worry, that’s all.”

My shoulders droop, and I feel like an ungrateful bitch. I have a wonderfully, supportive family and lashing out at them is the last thing I should be doing. “I know, and I’m sorry.” I attempt a smile. “It would be great if we could all go back to the days when that wasn’t necessary, but we can’t. I promise I’m doing my self-exams, and if anything out of the ordinary comes up, I’ll call the doctor right away.”

My father, bless his heart, changes the subject for which I’m grateful. “So when are you coming back to Falco?”

My mother grabs his arm, saying excitedly, “Have you told Kara about Liza?”

My father rolls his eyes. “No, honey, this is the first time I’ve seen her as well. And we probably shouldn’t be gossiping about it. Lee hasn’t told us anything concrete.”

I sit up straighter, sensing a good story here. Liza has been Uncle Lee’s assistant for several years, and I absolutely adore her. She’s sweet but knows how to kick ass when need be. She’s also absolutely gorgeous and single. I’ve often wondered why my uncle doesn’t seem to notice those facts. “All right, well, someone is damn well going to talk now. You can’t leave me hanging like this.”

“Language, Kara.” My father clicks his tongue.
Thank goodness my father hasn’t heard Aidan speak when we’re alone. Not that I mind . . .