My breath catches. Finn’s voice fades into background noise. My eyes follow Aidan as he peels himself from the wall and walks over to his brother for a quick hug, before kissing Rachel on both cheeks. When he turns to look at me again, his eyes are cold.
“…I always thought there’d be a sequel. It’s been years, and we’ve been waiting for an announcement.”
I have no idea what Finn is talking about. I watch Aidan pour himself a drink.
I should go talk to him.
What would I say that I haven’t said hundreds of times already?
It’s getting exhausting, and it hurts to consider that at some point, I’ll have to give up the dream that there will be a future for us.
Aidan throws back the rest of his drink, then without saying a word to anyone else, he walks out of the room.
“Liz?” Finn is giving me a quizzical look. He laughs self-consciously. “I’m probably boring you with my fan-boying.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just a little distracted.” I look in the direction Aidan went. “I gotta go.”
Without waiting for a reply, I hurry after Aidan. I reach the door just in time to see him disappear inside one of the many doorways leading off the hallway.
I follow him, pausing only for a moment before pushing the door open. It’s dark inside the room, but I can see Aidan silhouetted against the window, the brightly lit city a brilliant backdrop to his tall, masculine figure.
I close the door behind me just as he turns around.
“Are you still not stalking me?” he mocks, his voice as dry as dead grass.
I shrug. “You knew I’d be here.”
“Did I?” I hear him chuckle. He moves in the darkness, coming toward me. My heart thuds against my ribs. I feel him brush close to me, but he only moves past me to flick a switch close to the door.
The room fills with warm light, and I blink, turning around to face Aidan.
He places one hand on the door knob.
“Don’t go,” I whisper.
He looks pained. “Whatever it is you want, Liz, give it up. I closed the chapter on you a long time ago.”
There’s a finality in his words I can’t bear. I can’t let him go. “You don’t want me to leave.”
“Really?” There’s mockery in his eyes. “How would you know what I want?”
“Because I know you.” I take a step toward him. “I know under all your anger, you still have feelings for me.”
“Feelings?” His laugh is harsh, but he doesn’t deny it. He reaches out a hand, almost languidly, and cups my chin, then with his other hand, he pulls me to him. His back is to the door and I’m flush against him. I can feel the tenseness in his body, the heat washing off him in waves. I feel his chest rise against my breasts and I pull in an aching breath.
“What feelings?” he whispers, his lips close to my ear, so close, I can feel his warm breath on my skin. “I want to kiss you until your lips are bruised.” He fingers the fabric of my top and beneath it, my nipples harden and start to ache.
“I want to tear this off you and taste your skin. I want to feel your breasts in my palm, your nipples pebbling in my mouth. I’m aching to taste you, to feel your hips jerk and your thighs convulse when you come on my tongue. I’m aching to fuck you all night, till you’re sore and exhausted and neither of us can walk.” He draws one hand down my back and cups my butt, pressing me to his body so I can feel the hard evidence of his arousal.
I close my eyes, weak with desire. My lips part with my breaths. I want him to do everything to me he’s just said. I’m wet, aching and going crazy with want.
“Are those the kind of feelings you mean?” he continues, “because I have them, plenty.”
Me too, but this thing between us isn’t only about sex. I know it, and I know he knows it too.
“I love you.” The words leave me in a rush. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”
He flinches, and where we are touching, his body seems to turn to stone. Abruptly, he jerks away from me, his expression almost livid.