Sadie was thumbing through her phone as she opened her door. She pulled the keys from the lock. “Crickitt texted me last night to let me know she has my purse and ask if I was okay.” She grimaced. “She said Shane has your suit coat. Guess they know.”
He shouldn’t smile. But he did.
Sadie slapped his arm lightly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.” She fidgeted with her key chain, studying him. “You have this, like, postcoital glow about you.”
“Me?” He snuggled her close, his hands finding her hips on their own. “You could power a sports stadium.” She shoved him but he could tell she was teasing, so he kept her close and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her until she moaned low in her throat. “Do you want me to go home?” he asked, moving his lips to her neck.
“Um…”
He palmed her breast, his thumb unerring in its search for her nipple. He knew her body. After only one night. He knew it.
“You’re not playing fair,” she breathed, her fingers slipping into his hair. “Please grow your hair out,” she whispered before sliding her tongue into his ear.
He clasped on to her butt as he nipped her neck. “You like it long?”
A chuckle in her voice, she grasped on to him through his jeans. “And thick.”
He backed away so he could see her face. “You want some more, beautiful?” he asked, stroking her cheek. He did. God help him. Maybe he’d never get enough of Sadie. Sounded like the best life plan ever.
“If you can handle it.” She tried to smirk, but he thumbed her nipple and her lips dropped open into a pleased sigh.
Oh, he could handle it. Definitely. He kissed her hard, lifting her off her feet as he kicked her front door closed with the heel of his boot. Then he climbed the stairs for her bedroom and made it his mission to get her to scream so loudly the neighbors filed noise complaints.
* * *
The last two nights had been indulgent. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet, or Thanksgiving dinner.
Sadie knew she should stop, she just couldn’t convince her appetite otherwise. Same was true of the man she’d woken to sprawled across her mattress.
Every part of her was deliciously sore and humming, tingling. She was awash with sensitivities. Aiden barely touched her and she called his name. She’d be lucky if her neighbor Mrs. Norman didn’t file a noise complaint with the landlord.
The problem was, the sensitivity didn’t end at her body. Her emotions were running high, her heart weak and overflowing at the same time. Come Monday, Aiden had to work. So did Sadie, and she found herself looking forward to having her space back for a few minutes.
She couldn’t escape Aiden. He was in her bed, in her kitchen, on her sofa…and this morning he’d brought his sexy, scarred, tattooed body into the shower and turned her five-minute spritz into twenty minutes of slippery heaven.
She wasn’t complaining, but his constantly being around was making it hard for her to think a straight thought. She felt as if there was something that needed sorting. Something she couldn’t sort with him clogging the room with his infectious, dimpled smile.
He promised to return after seven and bring dinner, then kissed Sadie until she slumped against the kitchen counter. She couldn’t escape him. Which excited and terrified her at the same time. Sadie had to get her head around things, around where things were going, what this meant.
After work, she dropped her purse and keys onto the sofa and sat. She still didn’t know what she wanted more—for Aiden to come over and light her skin like a handful of sparklers, or stay away so she could wear frumpy pajamas and eat ice cream out of the container.
She was full and empty at the same time. Hot and cold.
She had to tell him how she felt.
Just as soon as she decided whether to keep him near or push him away.
* * *
“Take lots of pictures,” Aiden told Sonya Rollins and her husband as they left the store. They’d come in and bought matching T-shirts for their road trip to California.
Aiden glanced over at the stack of shirts and wondered if Sadie would wear a Harley shirt and ride with him across the country. She hadn’t hated riding Sheila back to pick up her car yesterday morning. She hadn’t even complained.
Much.
He chuckled as he recalled the small wrinkle in her forehead. How am I supposed to hold on to you after all that great sex? I’m going to look like a wind sock, flapping behind you on the air.
She turned him on in the weirdest ways sometimes. He shook his head to himself as Axle lumbered into the store. Aiden looked at his phone. “It’s not seven yet.”