Page 20 of Falling for You Again

Our ride from the pub was quiet, the air between us thick with anticipation. We didn’t talk or touch. We just sat in the back seat looking at each other, caught in our own orbit. Back in our bubble. A smile played on the edges of his mouth, the world muted outside. And every block we drove was a brushstroke of longing.

Aaron somehow manages to kick the door shut without breaking our kiss. I think I hear a bolt latch and the beep of a house alarm, but that’s all I register. Anything beyond us is nonexistent as he backs me up against a wall. I push his tux jacket over his shoulders. He shakes the sleeves down his arms and the jacket lands on the floor in a tumble of richly textured fabric.

We spin around and Aaron’s back slams into the wall, his hands coasting up my spine. There is the whisper of a zipper, the soft slide of expensive material, and my gown floats to the floor in a cloud of tulle and silk, where it joins Aaron’s jacket.

I help him out of his shirt while he pushes down his pants. We step out of our shoes and all the while, we’re kissing and exploring. His teeth nip my jaw, then his mouth travels down my neck, leaving a trail of damp heat. I’m on fire, my skin crackling, and I’ve never felt more alive.

I’m desperate to make Aaron feel as good as he’s making me, so I suck his earlobe between my teeth, nip the skin, and run my fingers through his hair before skimming them across the contours of his abs. He groans when I reach the elastic waistband of his briefs. I want to kiss him there and everywhere. I need to feel his weight on me.

Who knew he could make me feel like this, like I wouldn’t be able to spare a single breath if I were to walk away? Who knew he could make me ache for him so? Why didn’t we do this on our wedding night? Why didn’t we sleep together in Maui? Why have we waited so long?

“The fuck I know. Bedroom.” Aaron grabs my wrist and we run up the stairs with my embarrassed laughter bouncing off the ceiling. I guess I asked those questions out loud.

Off come Aaron’s briefs. Down go my panties. I’m not wearing a bra, and Aaron freely palms my breasts as he backs us down a long, dark hallway. Like a Hollywood movie, we leave a trail of clothes. And like a Hollywood movie, I remind myself this isn’t real. It doesn’t mean anything. I won’t get emotionally attached. I won’t let tonight deter me from my work.

I won’t fall.

We’re just scratching the itch we had in Maui.

We reach Aaron’s room and he flips on a dim light. I briefly catch amber finishes with caramel tones, a king-size bed, textured drapes, and soft, rich layers that leave me with the impression of masculine coziness before a voice running over gravel draws my eyes up to Aaron’s face. “I want to see you,” he says as he turns on another lamp in the corner.

After years of him pervading my dreams and dominating my thoughts, I almost beg him to look all he wants. I want my fill too.

But a sudden shyness that belies my usual confidence in the bedroom settles over me. “It’s been a while for me.” His dark eyes findmine. I see a question in them. “I haven’t dated in five years. You were my last kiss,husband,” I say, keeping it honest between us. And there hasn’t been anyone in my bed since Paul.

Heat flares in his gaze. “I have so many questions about that.Wife.”

Why is it so goddamn hot when he calls me “wife”? I’m just about to ask when he nudges me back. My calves bump into the bed and I lose my balance, collapsing onto the mattress. Aaron crawls over me, stalking up the bed until he’s right where I want him. He balances his weight on his forearms as my legs brace his. My toes skim his calves, the hair on his legs tickling the soles of my feet.

He lowers his head for a short kiss. “Is this what you want?”

I press the back of my head deeper into the pillow to look directly up at him. “Don’t you want this?”

“Yes, but I want to be sure we’re on the same page.”

“We’re reading the same book, Aaron.” I fit my palm to his cheek. “I absolutely want thiswith you.”

A groan rumbles in his throat before he kisses me hard. The nightstand drawer scrapes open and foil crinkles. He shifts on the bed and I reach for him, guiding him to my center. Our gazes lock and he pushes inside me.

Then everything but Aaron and the way he moves over me and in me falls away.

I stare at the ceiling, willing my heart rate to slow. Beside me, Aaron breathes heavily. His body glistens with sweat. I’m damp everywhere. Used and abused in the most delicious of ways, Emi would quip if I told her about tonight. She’d punctuate it with a high five.

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. I can’t tell Emi that I just had the best sex of my life, not if I want to keep the origins of my relationship with Aaron—if I dare call it a relationship—secret.

“What took us so long?” Aaron echoes my question from earlier, drawing me out of my musings.

“Right?” I grin at him.

The back of his hand grazes my pebbled nipple, and a pleasurable warmth blooms across my chest. My hand finds his. He studies my palm, his smooth fingers gliding over my hand, tracing patterns between the calluses like he did in Maui while we watched the sun set or lazily lounged poolside. The world shrinks to his touch, his teasing exploration a slow burn of desire. But my rough skin embarrasses me, and my fingers involuntarily curl over my palm. He presses them open. “I love your hands.”

“They’re in terrible shape.” Dry, cracked, and scarred from years of labor. If anything, they’re in worse condition than five years ago. I rarely remember to apply lotion.

“They show me that you love what you do. I’m jealous.” He traces the outline of my hand.

“Of my hands?” I stare at my palm, amused we see it so differently. My hands are tools. They let me create furniture that enriches people’s homes and lives. But like any tool, with so much use they’ve become worn and beaten up.

“If I have anything, it’s an education.” Aaron graduated from Yale with an English and Literature degree. “Other than strategies that keep Savant in the black, I have nothing to show for my work.”

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