Page 27 of Troubles

Is he talking about studying or did he think this was going in a different direction? I’m so confused right now.

“I…” I’m not opposed to the idea of sleeping with Aidan—feeling more of what he gave me in the darkroom. I’ve thought about it a lot. A lot. “…Aidan, I have to study. I…” I’ve avoided his eyes through this whole exchange and need to take a deep breath before I chance it. Releasing it slowly, I lift my eyes to find him laughing at me?

“Lisbeth, I promised to help you study. Relax, eat and we’ll make the flashcards and get your terms memorized.’’

“You’re a shit,” I huff out at him as he chuckles at me and grabs us a couple glasses of water. “It’s just…this is really important and I…I…” I couldn’t tell if he was serious, if he wants me, or just that.

But I can’t say it. My heart squeezes a little at the thought of a relationship, of taking this further. I’m petrified of being cast aside.

Again.

“Lisbeth, stop. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.” All joking is gone, his expression soft.

I hand him a stack of flashcards I made early this morning before class and he patiently quizzes me for the next several hours, but I can’t help thinking about it. That line.

Eventually, we stop and grab some dinner close by. I need a break—out of his apartment. I’m starting to make mistakes and getting answers wrong.

After burgers and a couple beers we walk slowly back to Aidan’s loft. The fresh air caressing my skin as it clears the fuzz from my brain. Since he’s been quizzing me on muscle groups, I run through them as he trails the back of his fingers down my arm—trapezius-spine of scapula-deltoid-brachialis-brachioradialis-flexor retinaculum.

“Good on you.” He’s got that spot on my wrist again, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

“Did I say those out loud?”

“You did, and you got them all perfect. I think the flexor retinaculum is one of my favorite spots on you.” He raises my hand and places a sweet kiss on the inside of my wrist.

We make our way up the stairs to the door. Aidan unlocks it, but holds me there—pressing his front into my back. His hand slides across my belly, pulling me tight to him, his lips skating across the back of my neck. “Though, I’m fond of this spot as well.”

My skin tightens with anticipation and desire. I’ve spent every one of the nights since the darkroom thinking about this. I was surprised, and kind of disappointed, that it seemed like a onetime thing. Aidan hadn’t made any further attempts; didn’t try at all.

We spent time together, but maybe we were always around other people. Gracyn at our place, Finn or Jimmy here.

“Let’s go study, love. We’ve a lot left to cover.”

And just like that, I’m back to confused and frustrated. Which has me answering questions wrong again and getting pissed.

“I think I’m getting dumber.”

We’re on the couch with the fucking flash cards and I can’t seem to get anything correct. The flash of his camera snaps my attention from my puddle of self-doubt.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting creative with your studies. The curve of your trapezius wrapping ’round to your collarbone is gorgeous.” Turning the camera, he shows me the image.

Captured in black and white, is my pale neck, exposed and open to him by the tilt of my head and the strap of my tank that’s slipped down my arm.

“Maybe I should be taking pictures of you.” His lips are right there when I turn my head. Right fucking there.

“Maybe you should use me like I offered earlier. Practical applications, yeah?” He’s so close. And not smiling anymore. Heat and desire are flushing my chest and burning through me.

He leans forward placing his camera on the coffee table and I run my nail down the exposed muscles in his arm. He stills sucking in a breath.

Grabbing at something from the table, Aidan straightens and pierces me with his dark gaze. “Take this,” he rasps as he hands me a pen and reaches behind his head. He pulls his shirt off, leaning back into the arm of the couch. “Mark me. Label the muscles.” His voice is low and husky.

I shift closer. This is such a good idea—and such a bad one.

The pen cap pops as I pull it free. He’s laid out for me, his breathing slow and deep. His eyes flash darkly from the pen in my hand to my eyes, to my lips. I know I’m biting the bottom one, trying so hard not to shake as I move the tip of the pen to the skin at the base of his neck. He’s not a bulky gym rat, but he is well defined. Really well defined. He holds his breath as I drag the pen across his skin outlining the muscles of his chest. Holy shit. His nipples harden and his skin pebbles up.

“Lisbeth,” my name rasps across his lips, “name them. Now.”

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