Page 20 of After the Rain
“Mmm, yes, love. Get that hoodie all recharged with your smell for me,” he mumbles from his nest beneath the duvet, his eyes andcheeky grin surrounded by a cloud of white bedding.
He doesn’t seem to be making any moves towards the bathroom as I leave the room and head downstairs. Pax is whining in his bed beside the sofa, where he was asleep when we stumbled past him on our way upstairs.
“Sorry, buddy,” I say with that baby voice everyone uses with dogs when there is nobody else around, as I scratch behind his ears. “Come on, bud. Outside.” I lead him to the door and let him out. He makes his way straight to the grass and does his business. He was definitely ready to go out. I shove my feet into a pair of trainers from the shoe rack and trudge outside with a bag to clean it up.
I let Pax wander around for a few minutes as he checks out which wild animals have been through his garden this evening, before he makes his way back inside. It seems this cold weather is too much even for a dog. I follow him in, lock up the door, and head to the kitchen to wash my hands. I grab two glasses of water and head back upstairs to find Rain has not, in fact, moved from his blanket fortress. I chuckle at the cheeky grin that spreads across his face as he watches me place the water on my bedside table.
“It’s cold,” he grumbles, as if that is reason enough to stew in a post-sex-sans-clean-up bed.
Absolutely not. I whip the duvet off him, exposing his nakedness to the frigid air and watch as goosebumps form all over his pale skin.
“Knobhead!” he cries out before squealing as I reach both arms behind him, hoist him off the bed, and fling him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I can’t resist dropping a firm slap on his juicy arse cheek as I stride toward the bathroom, his surprised yelp music to my ears.
Fifteen
Rain
Iwish I could say I hated being manhandled into the shower by a burly lumberjack type who is also the single most gorgeous, kind, sweet, sexy man in the world. But I don’t. His arms around me from behind as he nuzzles my hair while the warm water from the shower rains down on us feels like the safest place in the world.
I was planning on speaking to Aidan tonight about maybe moving things forward a bit if he wanted to after feeling so much better with therapy and a job, and some fucking purpose for once in my life. I was not planning on being blindsided with the most gorgeous home dance studio that immediately breathed life into the piece of my soul that needs movement to survive. Something that was stolen from me by Dan and his shithead brother in that dingy club.
Aidan has created an oasis for me to dance, in the sanctuary of calm that is his property. Andnow, he’s holding me tight in the perfection that is his embrace. I ache all over, my arse stings like a motherfucker, and I have a couple of reddened bruises coming up on my neck where his kisses and nibbles got a bit overenthusiastic at times. But I’ve also never felt more sated, desired, and loved than I do right now. Because he does love me. He told me that. And I told him that I felt the same. Even the thought of that brings a smile to my lips, a smile that Aidan quickly notices and leans over my shoulder to taste.
“What’s this smile for?” he asks, murmuring his words into the crook of my neck.
“Just remembering what you said.”
“What did I say?” he asks, humour lacing his tone. I spin in the circle of his arms and wrap my own around his neck, fingers automatically going to the hair there, my favourite spot currently hidden by his long hair that he’s taken down from its usual bun while we shower. I look into his deep brown eyes that soften when they meet mine.
“That you love me.” I keep eye contact with him as I see warmth and love fill his eyes at my words.
“Oh that,” he chuckles before pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “I do indeed. Very much.” He hesitates, then continues, “I know it seems fast; you’ve only been here, what, just less than amonth? But honestly, I’ve known for a while that you were meant to be mine. And more than that, I’ve been yours, probably since that very first day when I picked you up off the road. You stole my heart when you weren’t even conscious. I never believed in love at first sight but, Rain, you are the strongest person I have ever known, and I want to love you, and have fun with you, and watchBake Offwith you for as long as you’ll let me.”
I’m glad we’re in the shower, so the tears spilling over are hidden. I’m not normally such an emotional wreck but something about this place, these friends, this man have broken me. Broken down the walls that I surrounded myself with for years, and he’s scaled through the wreckage of them and lodged himself deep in my heart.
“Aidan,” I sob, my tears obvious from my voice alone. “Y-you are the most wonderful human being. You took me in, this wreck of a man who clearly was bringing all kinds of shit to your door—” Aidan goes to interrupt me with a sound of denial, but I silence him with a raised eyebrow and a finger over his lips. “No, your turn to listen, love. You didn’t know who I was or what I could have been bringing to your door. You just saw a man in a fucking state, and you didn’t even hesitate. You gave me care, a home, a job, and now – you. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I will do everything in my power to showyou every day how much I appreciate you for everything you are. I love you so much. I’ve been desperate for you, but I just needed to find myself again. You know?”
He nods, because of course he does. He knows how much I needed to talk through the shit I went through with Dan. I’m not magically better after three weeks of therapy; Aidan doesn’t have a magic dick. I will probably need therapy on and off my whole life – a fact that is probably true of most people, to be honest. But Aidan gets it. He struggles with his anxiety, and he has the therapy and tools he needs to manage it. And when he can’t come back down from a panic attack, now he has me. And I have him.
“I know you did, baby. I would have waited forever.” His words hit me in my solar plexus, and I can’t help but kiss him hard and deep. My tongue sweeps into his mouth, and he responds enthusiastically, taking over all my senses. When we reluctantly pull apart, I decide it’s time to stop all this mushy stuff and lighten the mood a bit.
“I can’t believe we’re doing third act, mushy speeches when we’re barely past chapter one! Enough! Feed me, love. I’m hungry.” And he does.
We dry off and dress – Aidan in his joggers and a T-shirt while I steal back his hoodie anda pair of his plaid pyjama bottoms – before heading downstairs for sustenance. I wrap myself up in my favourite blanket on the sofa, and Pax quickly climbs up beside me and leans in, looking dolefully up at me. He’s clearly unimpressed by our shameful neglect of him. A few ear scratches seem to mollify him fairly quickly, though. In a few minutes, Aidan comes in with tea and toast, the midnight snack of champions. He’s carrying it all on a tray with a surprising selection of toast toppings.
“OK. Do you want jam, marmalade, Bovril, Marmite, Nutella, honey, or just butter on your toast?” He looks at me as if this number of toast accoutrements is totally normal and he hasn’t just pulled a continental breakfast bar out of his pantry. “What?” he asks, confused by my questioning expression.
“How many… What… Why do you have so many different things for toast?”
“What are you on about? This is a completely normal selection of toast toppings. I’m all out of shepherd’s pie, though.” He side-eyes me with a sarcastic look, and I punch his arm.
“That is a top-tier pairing, and I’m prepared to die on that hill,” I sniff imperiously. He laughs, then nods towards the grocer’s shop on his coffee table. “What jam do you have?” I ask, knowing that there is, in fact, only one acceptable flavour.
He grabs the jar of jam and hides it behind his back. “What flavour do youwantit to be?” I love when he gets a bit silly with me like this.
“I want it to be the only acceptable flavour of jam.”
“And what flavour is that?” He narrows his eyes at me in suspicion, as though he also knows there is only one acceptable flavour of jam, and he’s concerned that I’ll be some strawberry-loving basic bitch. Goddess, I hopehe’snot some strawberry-loving basic bitch.
