Page 73 of One Time in Paris
Asshole.
Ugh.
Maybe he was a bigger coward than she’d believed.
“Why do I have the worst taste in men?” she muttered, flipping onto her back and staring at the ceiling.
She couldn’t keep doing this. She’d practically thrown herself at Aiden—three times now. And, sure, maybe he’d expressed interest, but it wasn’t like he initiated anything beyond those encounters. He hadn’t even gone out with them today, choosing to stay at Elle and Quinn’s and work instead.
“Work-a-holicasshole.”
Yet none of the verbal slings made her feel any better.
It was like all sense went out the window when she was near him. The barest of touches set her skin on fire and made her want to find a way to fuck him right then and there. Take risks.
Stupid, stupid risks.
And that was the exact opposite reaction Davy had the night before.Man, that feels like so long ago now.Davy had naturally been giddy at the idea of Isla and Aiden together. Isla felt a little guilty because she hadn’t come out and told Davy the whole truth about the marriage.Maybe because I’m still processing that myself.And she’d downplayed how much she was feeling.
“It’s not a big deal,” she’d told Davy.“We kissed. That’s it. It’s nothing, really.”
“Girl, just climb that delicious man like a tree. You’re clearly into each other,” Davy said.
Just the thought of “climbing Aiden like a tree” made her wet, her thighs clenching, her body begging for fulfillment.
She hadn’t had sex for so long—since she and Tomas had broken up because one-night stands weren’t usually her thing—and maybe that was what was driving her crazy. Shewanted“one night” with Aiden. She didn’t want to think about what it could mean or where they’d end up. She was sick of rules and all the adult bullshit.
For once, she wanted to return to being irresponsible and free. Eating takeaway at three in the morning after a long night on stage, followed by drinks.
Yet, the last time she’d tried to let loose was in Vegas, and look what happened.
With a heavy, strained sigh that did nothing to release the tension from her body, she slid her hand down to her waist, then slipped it between her legs.God, I’m fucking soaked.
Sliding one finger deeply inside her, she closed her eyes, her heartbeat speeding as she imagined Aiden kissing her by the sink. The taste of his tongue, the firmness of his cock against her ass.
Oh fuck. I need this.
She drew a shattered breath, then slid her hand back, rubbing the wetness over her clit. Her body jerked in response, desperate for release.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Shit. You have got to be kidding me!” she muttered.
She climbed out of her bed, adjusting her panties as she walked toward the door.
She grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt from the suitcase just in case—her nipples were hard and visible under the satin fabric of her pajamas—and she wasn’t about to open the door this turned on without something to cover her if necessary.
Opening the door a crack, she peeked out.
Aiden.
She swallowed hard, then opened the door a bit more. “Did you get lost on your way back from the kitchen?” Her tone had more bite to it than she’d intended.
Aiden gave her a pained, tortured expression, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Can I come in?”
She opened the door farther, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
He stood there for a few seconds, staring at her, his eyes traveling over every inch of her, focusing on her breasts, her nipples, then going down to her waist. “You took the dress off,” he said, his voice almost hoarse with strain.
