Page 15 of Wreck Me
The hand on the small of her back applied more pressure, and she wanted to just sink into him. It had been so long since she’d felt the touch of a man that set her soul on fire. Had there ever been a man to do that? If the feeling she had right now was any indication, the answer was no.
When she looked up at him, those bright blue eyes were dark with a hint of gray. They reminded her of storm clouds on the horizon. Something deep in her gut told her that Aidan Reynolds would be amazing in bed. Probably ruin her for the rest of her life.
But that was something she was never going to find out. Her head was a little fuzzy, but one thing she knew was that she had a new life waiting for her in Florida. Not in a little mountain town in Georgia.
And she definitely wasn’t getting involved with anyone right now. She was done with love for now. For as long as she could remember, she’d always had a man. It was time to figure out who Megan was without a man by her side.
No matter how good of a guy Aidan was, she wasn’t sticking around, and even if she were, she wasn’t ready to go down any road where she’d be hurt again.
That thought was enough to put the brakes on the desire that whipped through her body. She tore her gaze from his and lifted her hands from his chest. “I-I’m sorry.”
Oh perfect, now she was stammering.
“It’s okay.”
Carefully, and unable to look into his eyes again, she stepped back and he let his hand fall away from her back. He kept a hold of her hand, but loosened his grip.
“Soup sounds good,” she said to the floor. “I’ll change and be out there in a minute.”
“Steady?”
Not really, but she’d have to be. “Yep. I’m fine.”
He left the room without another word. All of the oxygen in the room went with him when he closed the door with a soft click. She blew out a breath and turned to the bench at the end of the bed where her suitcase sat.
Damn it, he was a thoughtful one. She didn’t want him to be thoughtful or kind.
She changed into a pair of pajama pants and a long sleeve T-shirt. It took her longer than it normally would have since she had to pause a couple of times to let the room stop spinning. But she’d managed to get changed and even use the bathroom connected to the bedroom.
The fact that he’d put her toiletry bag in the bathroom for her was almost too much. Who the hell was this guy? Was he for real? Stella had raised him well.
She padded out into the kitchen, following the smell of chicken noodle soup. When she rounded the corner, she came to a stop like she’d hit a wall.
No microwave reheating for this one. Aidan stood in front of the stove, his back to her, stirring the soup in a large red pot. Megan tilted her head, unable to do anything more than watch him. The man had an amazing ass, which the baggy pants didn’t detract from. How was that even possible?
He put the lid back on the pot and ran a large hand through his hair. As he turned, he noticed her standing there and motioned toward the long peninsula. “Come on over to the bar. It’ll be ready in a minute.” He moved toward the coffeepot. “I have some tea. Want any?”
“Yeah, tea sounds good. And some water if it isn’t too much trouble,” she said, making her way to a long expanse of granite countertop.
He went to a door on the other side of the kitchen that opened into a walk-in pantry. “I’ve got green tea and some of that herbal sleepy stuff,” he called out.
Megan smiled and slid onto a barstool. “Herbal, please.”
He walked out, turning off the light behind him all in one fluid motion. Watching Aidan move was like an erotic, alpha male dance. His motions were smooth, economical, but unhurried. Her sex-starved brain wondered how his body moved in bed.
She closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to her hand. No, no, no. There would be no more thinking of this man in any way sexual. What was wrong with her?
She blamed the concussion.
“Megan, are you okay?”
God, how many times had he asked her that today? He had to be tired of it already. She was. She lifted her head and met his concerned eyes as he stood in front of her with a box of tea in one hand.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and gestured to the box of tea with her head. “You like your Sleepytime tea?” she teased.
He looked down at the box in his hand as though he wondered how it got there. “Oh. No. I don’t drink tea unless it’s cold and full of sugar. My sister Grace is always bringing teas over and leaving them here. I humor her and let her.”
“Well, that’s sweet of you.”
