Page 10 of Little Death
Both men are pathetically rich in a way that has absolved them of most of life’s responsibilities. I’d know, because until my mother’s death, I’d been well on my way to becoming one of them. Privileged. Arrogant. Certain of my place in life and totally aware of the length and breadth of my influence.
All it would take is one moment in time for that carefully constructed world to come crashing down around them. Life’s funny that way. Sort of like how I ended up here when I’d intended to run in and out without ever drawing any attention to myself.
Aiden’s gaze shifting my way is the only thing that keeps me from rolling my eyes at this entire scenario. Definitely not on the list of Aiden-approved behavior. Judging by the mocking laughter dancing in his eyes, he’s enjoying my pain and seeming lack of self-control.
What does he get out of this anyway? It has to be some kind of twisted game. A punishment for whatever reason he’s cooked up inside his fucked-up brain about why I’m here. Guaranteed, he’s so far off the mark it’s comical.
With our eyes locked, the argument between the two men fades into the background, and my annoyance at their conversation ebbs momentarily. He’s got this way of looking at me that gets under my skin. It makes me want to peel it off so I can remove every piece of evidence that he gets to me. Because, goddammit, he does. Burrows deep. Like a splinter.
You’d have to be cold and dead not to be affected by a man like Aiden O’Connor. Even if he’s a cold-blooded killer. Or maybe I’ve gone crazy enough over the past several months that his shooting someone is the least of my worries.
“I can afford it,” the first man objects. “You’re the one dropping a small fortune at Caesars every weekend. Bet your wife loves that.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Both men angle their bodies away from Aiden and toward me at my snort. Aiden’s hand tightens on my hip in warning, and the sound chokes off in the back of my throat. Well, it didn’t take me long to break those rules after all.
“Something funny, sweetheart?” Crawley—or is it Hudson?—asks. Honestly, they both look alike, so it’s hard to tell them apart.
They preen as Aiden finally seems to pay them a lick of notice. He’d mostly been reclining in his chair opposite the two, enjoying knowing that it made me so uncomfortable. But his attention swings in their direction now that they’ve noticed me, and their smug laughter cuts off. He says nothing, so Crawley/Hudson grows more confident, emboldened by Aiden’s regard.
“Yeah,” the other says. “Something funny?”
I open my mouth to respond, then sense Aiden’s presence like a shadow out of the corner of my eye and think better of it. I’m not the type of woman to hold my tongue, but I bite back the retort that threatens to leap free, no matter how much I want to tear into them.
“Why don’t you stop by my office on Monday, Hudson?” Aiden says, and it’s like they completely forget me. “We’ll talk, and I’ll see what I can do.”
With them distracted, Aiden tugs me from my standing position at his side into his lap. Clutching his imposing shoulders is the only way I can keep myself from flying off his lap to the other side. His hands settle around my waist, so broad they nearly span the width of my hips.
“I was perfectly fine standing,” I mutter as he lifts his hand to catch the eye of a passing server. He gestures for what he wants, and the server nods so fast, I’m afraid her head may fall off.
“And now I’m ready for you to sit,” he says, voice low and so close to my ear it creates a sense of intimacy I’d rather do without.
“Why?”
“Because it’s what I want.”
“And you’re used to getting what you want,” I surmise. I’m not surprised. Based on the greeting he got when he walked into the party earlier, it’s easy to imagine he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants it.
“You would think that,” he says, and I shift slightly, hoping to put some space between his body and mine, but his arms tighten around me. “Stop wiggling.”
“I can’t help it. I can sit in my own chair, you know.”
“If I wanted you to sit somewhere else, I would have put you there.”
“Are you always this controlling, or am I just lucky?”
“Your smart mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he says, moving his mouth closer to my ear, not missing when the sensation makes me suck in a sharp breath. “Then again, you did break into my game room, so maybe you were looking for trouble.”
“How did you know I broke in?”
“Just assume I know everything.”
“I’m sure you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”
Aiden shifts my body until my ass settles firmly in his lap, my back against the broad expanse of his chest. He wraps his muscular arms around me until my senses are filled with him. From his heat to his strength to his scent—rainstorms and wood-smoke.
Hudson and Crawley focus intently on the game, already forgotten by Aiden, but I become more intensely aware of their presence as Aiden slides his big palms along my thighs, reaching the end of my too-short dress all too soon. My hand flies out to cover his to stop their upward trajectory. Tingles pepper along my skin from where it comes into contact with his devilish touch. They glide up my nerve endings and sizzle through my blood. Is it because of my fear and awareness of all the people around us that I am hyper-focused on the way his palms are rougher than I expect?
