Page 26 of Price of Victory
I scrambled off the bed, running a hand through my face and trying to make myself look like I hadn’t been about thirty seconds away from taking care of business. When I opened the door, Aiden was standing there with several bags from what looked like an expensive grocery store, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a sweater that probably cost more than most people’s textbooks.
“Oh,” I said, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
He raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, hello to you, too, sugar cube. I figured, since you live in abject poverty, I couldn’t just eat your stuff without making sure you don’t starve to death.”
“How sweet,” I said sarcastically, but I could feel my heart starting to race just from his proximity. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too warm.
He held out the bags, and when I reached to take them, our fingers brushed for just a moment. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, immediate and devastating, and I jerked back so fast I nearly dropped everything.
Fuck. I cursed myself for reacting so obviously, for letting him see how much his touch affected me. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid, this loss of control that happened every time he was near me.
“You want to come in?” I asked, stepping back from the door before I could think better of it.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He followed me into the room, and immediately, the space felt smaller, charged with his presence like the air before a storm. I set the bags on my desk and started unpacking them, trying to give my hands something to do while I got my pulse under control.
“Jesus, Aiden, how much food did you buy?” The bags contained what looked like half a grocery store: actual snacks instead of my usual processed junk, fruit that actually looked fresh, some kind of fancy crackers, chocolate that probably cost more per ounce than gold.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said, settling onto Lennox’s bed across from mine with easy confidence. “And I figured if I was going to intrude on your evening, I should at least bring proper provisions.”
“Intrude?” I glanced at him, noting the way the lamplight caught the sharp angles of his face, the way his sweater stretched across his shoulders. “What makes you think you’re intruding?”
“Well, you looked like I’d murdered your favorite book boyfriend when you opened the door. Either I interrupted something important, or you were really hoping I was someone else.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I turned back to the food to hide my expression. He wasn’t wrong on either count, but there was no way in hell I was admitting that.
“I was just surprised to see you. We don’t exactly have a habit of dropping by each other’s rooms.”
“Maybe we should start.”
There was something in his voice that made me look at him again, something softer than his usual cocky confidence but somehow more intense. He was watching me with a focus thatmade my skin prickle, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had been bothering him.
“What’s all this really about?” I asked, gesturing at the food. “The snacks, the random visit. What do you want, Aiden?”
“Can’t a guy bring snacks to a friend without having an ulterior motive?”
“We’re not friends.”
“Aren’t we? After the other night?”
The question hung in the air between us like a challenge, and I found myself remembering the easy conversation we’d had, the way the usual hostility had dissolved into something that felt almost like friendship. Almost like something more dangerous.
“I don’t know what we are,” I said honestly.
“Neither do I. But I know I’ve been thinking about you.” He was being unusually direct, none of his typical verbal sparring or calculated innuendo. “About that conversation we had.”
“What about it?”
“It was good. Really good. I haven’t talked to someone like that in…well, in a long time. Maybe ever.” His voice dropped lower. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About how you looked sitting on this bed, actually talking to me instead of trying to tear my head off.”
The admission made something flutter dangerously in my chest. “It was just talking.”
“Was it?” He leaned forward slightly, and the space between us felt charged. “Because I keep remembering other things. The way you kept looking at my mouth when I was talking. The way you reacted when I got close to you.”
My throat went dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
