Page 8 of Lonely Beard
“This is a weird storybook.”
“No,listen. You’re like this flawless alpha baboon. You’re the king of the jungle.”
“I think that’s lions.”
I growl and snatch a cushion off the nearby sofa, tossing it at Aiden’s head. He catches it, laughing, as I yell, “It doesn’t matter! My point is, you’reit.What more could anyone possibly ask for?”
The laughter drains slowly from Aiden’s face, leaving an odd smile behind. Then we’re both sitting up, both flushed, both breathing hard. My hair is mussed and the sweater hem keeps sliding up my thighs. I know, because I keep catching him looking.
“Baboons?” Aiden asks at last, running a hand over his bristly jaw. “Really?”
I’m not sure which of us moves first. Not sure when the air changed in the room, going from peaceful and warm to crackling with energy, a metallic taste on my tongue. Like the thunderstorm has come inside, seeping through the cracks around the door frame, and now we’re caught up in the madness.
All I know is one moment, I’m tossing cushions and yelling about baboons, and the next I’m crawling into Aiden McRae’s lap, his hands gripping tight to my hips. The firelight casts a golden glow over his face, brings out the copper tint to his hair, and there’s a hungry edge to him that I didn’t notice before. The lines of his face are stark.
“Grace.” Aiden stares down between us at where my thighs part over his lap. At the smooth, olive skin of my bare legs, and the hem of his green sweater grazing the black cotton of my panties. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of his hands on my body, his scarred artist’s fingers delving into the folds of my borrowed sweater, mapping the feel of me beneath the wool. “Grace, we can stop this. Okay? I don’t expect this. I won’t send you out into the storm.”
Duh.
He may be grumpy, but Aiden McRae is a good man. The best. So I bite my lip and flick his shirt button open. Just the top one—just enough to see the whole hollow of his throat.
Jeez Louise. This man is a walking work of art, a sculpture in a gray flannel shirt, and the drama of the storm must have addled my brains, because I lean forward and lick his collarbone.
Aiden groans, squeezing my hips tighter. “Grace.”
This is fine. He’s not a client anymore. It’s not inappropriate.
It’s not the most earth-shattering experience of my life.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit as I sit back, breathless and flushed.
Aiden’s mouth twitches. “Me neither. Good thing we’re pure baboon instinct.”
“Oh, you—”
Aiden bears me down onto my back on the rug, and I shut the hell up.
Four
Aiden
The sight of Grace in that baggy green sweater has been driving me out of my mind for hours. I’ve been yanking my gaze away from her thighs; have been wrestling my thoughts under control through sheer force of will, but not before heated images flashed across my brain, tormenting me.
Things like: Grace, spread out beneath me, the faded green wool pooling all around her. My fingertips tracing up the bare skin of her legs, dipping under the hem and disappearing from view. Her lips parting on a sigh, head tilting back as my thumbs brush against black cotton.
These aren’t fevered, shameful thoughts. This ishappening, and I can barely think over the thud of my heartbeat in my ears. She’s so soft and warm and welcoming, her arms lifting to loop around my neck. Those legs slide wider, and I rub against her again with my thumbs, her damp heat scorching through the cotton.
She wants this.
Fuck,Iwant this. So badly I can barely breathe.
“Grace.” I yank my hands away and spread my palms on the rug, one on either side of her head. She blinks up at me, so trusting. “I want to kiss you first.”
She snorts, brown eyes twinkling. “I should freaking hope so.”
God. She’s right. I’m doing this all out of order, getting muddled by how badly I want her, and this is the most important moment of my whole life so far. I need to get this right.
Because somehow, by some miraculous twist of fate, Grace broke down outside my cabin in this storm. She let me give her shelter, and now she’s trusting me with even more. I won’t waste a second of this.
