Aaron turns to glare at the women, who don’t even have the grace nor the smarts to appear contrite. Instead, they regard him expectantly, cameras at the ready to pose for pictures with him.
“What is wrong with you?” he demands of the entire group. “I know it was obvious I was enjoying a private moment. Yet, you still swarmed me, pushing your way into our conversation and ruining our meal.”
Some of the smiles begin to slide off their perfect, made-up faces. Feeling a tiny bit bad for them, I pull my wrist away from Aaron’s grasp, which gets his attention. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not,” he grits out.
“I don’t mind,” I assure him. I gesture at the women, who, for the first time, actually seem to see me. A few look downright apologetic. “Why don’t you take a few pictures with your fans?”
Aaron stubbornly turns his back on the women, stepping in close and dipping his face to see mine. “I’m really sorry about this.”
For the first time since he came into my life, I actually make the first move and touch him. Frowning, I let my hand cup his cheek. “It’s fine. Not your fault.”
He returns a wry smile. “I know, but it’s a blatant reminder of the fame you so desperately hate, which, in turn, is going to make you hate me.”
Vigorously, I shake my head. “I don’t hate anything about you, Aaron. I’d never feel that way about you. And I don’t hate your fame, either. I understand it’s something you have to live with—a part of your everyday reality. It just caught me by surprise, but I’m fine now. I promise.”
“It’s not usually like that,” he assures me. “I think those girls are probably drunk, and they just weren’t thinking—”
“It’s fine,” I say again, meaning it. “And I don’t want to piss off your fans, so go take a few pictures, okay?”
“Only if you’ll kiss me,” he replies, his voice low and rumbling. There’s clear yearning in his demand, which, when added to that delicious tone, shoots heat right in between my legs.
“If you insist,” I whisper.
Sliding my arms around his neck, I rise on my tiptoes to bring my mouth to his. Tilting my head, I manage to fit against him—my lips touching his and then parting. I let my tongue slip into his mouth, nearly losing all the strength in my legs when he growls in appreciation. His arms band around my waist, hauling me tighter against his hard body, and then Aaron takes over the kiss.
When he finally lets me up for air, I realize he could ask me to do anything right now and I’d say yes.
Regrettably, he only smooths a thumb along my jaw before taking a step back. With a sigh, he starts to turn to the group of women. Willing to do his duty as a celebrity, he pastes on a welcoming smile.
I lean to the side to peek around him, only to realize the women disappeared. I have no clue when they left, but we are blessedly alone once again.
Aaron grins as he returns his attention my way. “How about another margarita and maybe some dessert?”
“Sounds awesome,” I reply, thinking this has turned out to be one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.
♦
A few hours later, Aaron walks me to my front door, officially bringing the best date I’ve ever had to an end. Despite having connected with him on a much deeper level after the earlier fan fiasco, I’m suddenly feeling awkward and unsure of myself.
I fumble in my purse for my keys as we hit my porch, wondering if I should invite him in. Before this date, I did shave, so that barrier has been removed.
Instead, I turn to him and mutter, “I had a great time tonight. Thank you.”
Aaron’s smile seems sly and a little predatory, which makes my blood start to race. He crowds into my personal space, curling one hand around the nape of my neck while bending to deliver a scorching kiss that wordlessly tells me he had a great time, too, with the additional message that we could have an even better time not so subtly hinted at.
But he pulls his mouth away from mine, moving his lips to my ear to murmur, “I had a great time, too. Call you tomorrow,” with absolutely no pressure for more in his tone.
I’m stunned when he starts to turn away from me. Hating my opportunity has passed, I shift toward my door, key in hand.
Then I whip back around. “Would you…”
Aaron pauses, twisting to see me over his shoulder.
“Um… never mind,” I whisper. He smiles—his expression conveying understanding, slight amusement, and patience. He gets halfway down the steps before I finally make up my mind and blurt out, “Wait… would you like to come in for a bit?”
Aaron pivots to face me, his head tilted up slightly.
“You know,” I prattle on. “We could, um… talk. Or even play Scrabble.”
His eyes lock on me, filling with a purpose I don’t understand but which causes my tummy to flutter, as Aaron saunters back my way. He takes the porch steps two at a time. Not stopping, he walks right into me. I take a step backward, the door bringing me up short, and Aaron presses in against me, his legs tangling with mine as my breasts mash into his broad chest.
Dipping his head, he puts his mouth near my ear and whispers, “Let’s play some Scrabble.”
“Okay,” I breathe out with a nervous laugh.
Once we’re inside, we kick off our shoes. I grab us some waters—Aaron declined alcohol as the two margaritas we had earlier are his limit with driving—and then we settle in cross-legged on my living room floor with the game board between us.
We chat easily through the first game, which I win. As we’re setting up for the second, Aaron asks, “How often do you see your parents?”
He knows my parents live near here and they’re both accountants who dabble in rental properties as a means of securing an earlier retirement.
I shrug. “Not as often as I’d like. The store takes up most of my time. Sunday is my only real day off.”
“You work too hard,” Aaron observes.
“So says the guy who will be working virtually seven days a week during hockey season between travel, games, and practice.” I’d learned a lot tonight when he’d explained all about his career.
“Touché…” He smirks, laying out his tiles to spell the first word of this game—B-E-N-C-H. He tallies up the points, then writes them down before looking up. “Why don’t you hire more help?”
“If I did that, I’d go under,” I say truthfully. “My passion isn’t a great moneymaker. I make just enough to pay my bills, sock a little away in retirement, and put some decent groceries on the table.”
Aaron blinks, and I wonder if he’s disappointed the woman he probably thought was a savvy businesswoman is barely hanging on. Instead, his smile turns warm and he says, “I admire that. Working hard for what you love instead of how much you can make.”
His praise warms me, fulfilling my base need for someone to acknowledge that what I’m doing has purpose. My parents think it’s a pipe dream, and they’ve only been vaguely encouraging. Not because they don’t love me, but because they want better for me.
“My parents—who I swear love me dearly—are constantly suggesting I move on to something a little more stable in the money department,” I say. “It’s times like those when I wish I had a sibling to take some of their attention off my shortcomings.”
“Not shortcomings,” he corrects sternly while I muse over my tiles. “Grand ambitions.”
I grin as I choose my word. “I like that. Thanks.”
I place my tiles, using the C in his word to spell out C-A-R-T-E-L. After I calculate my points, I add them to the list.
“What about you?” I ask teasingly. “Do you have any siblings you overshadow with your greatness?”
Aaron chuckles, but his answer is decidedly vague. “I have a half-sister I’m not overly close to. But she’s definitely the apple of her parents’ eyes.”
That statement makes me sad, because maybe there’s still a little bit of romanticism left within me. I feel like everyone should be close to their siblings. Not that I wou
ld know, but there have been many times I’d pined for one while growing up.
It’s not something I feel I can press him on, so I voluntarily change the subject. “When will you get your day with the Cup?” I ask.
Aaron’s eyes lift to mine, and he smiles. He loves hockey, and he lights up whenever we talk about it. That’s okay, because I feel the same type of joy when I talk about my bookstore. “Maybe in a few weeks. I was going to have a party at my condo. Nothing big. I hope you’ll come.”
“I’d love to,” I say, and it makes me a bit giddy to think Aaron and I are planning out time together a few weeks from now. “I can’t even imagine how incredible it was to win that championship.”
I had done some reading up on the Vengeance and their journey to win the Cup this year. It’s a bit of a sports miracle.
Aaron places a palm on the floor to brace himself, his face warming at the nostalgic memory I’m placing before him. “The feeling of that win… there’s nothing like it. I’d go so far as to say it’s the best feeling I’ve ever had.”
Aaron spells out the word R-A-T, and I snicker as he calculates his measly points.
“What’s one thing you would change about yourself if you could?” he asks as he picks out his new tiles.
It’s a deep question. I study him thoughtfully until his gaze rises to meet mine. He shrugs. “I’m just curious because I think you’re practically perfect. But, admittedly, I don’t know you all that well. Just trying to speed up the process.”
Okay, now that’s adorable. When coupled with the fact the man came into my house to play Scrabble with me because he knows how nervous I am and that I’m not sure what in the hell I’m doing, and I’m afraid my heart is starting to take a bit of a tumble for him.
I look at the ceiling, pondering his question. When I return my attention to him, I say, “I wish I could be more spontaneous. Not have to overthink or plan out everything.”
Aaron’s lips curve up, his eyes warm with understanding. It’s obvious he appreciates the truthfulness of my answer. He leans forward across the Scrabble board.
We meet in the middle for a soft, sweetly tender kiss that says nothing more than, “Hello again… I think I really like you.”
It almost seems too romantic to be true.
But then his tongue touches mine, and the kiss takes a deeper turn. Before I know it, we’re both on our knees and are making out like two fevered teenage kids. My breasts are mashed into his chest, and both his hands are in my hair to hold me still so he can ravage my mouth. Our breathing turns heavy, and I have the strange desire to rip all of his clothes off so I can touch every inch of his body.
Aaron tears his mouth from mine, and even though he still holds my head, he leans back so he can look me in the eye. His chest is still heaving, as is mine.
His smile is regretful and amused all at the same time. “We should slow down.”
My brows knit together, and the minute he sees my confusion, he leans into me for a quick but tender kiss. “We can take our time, Clarke. It’s actually kind of refreshing, to be honest…”
I can’t help myself. If there’s something else I wish I could change, it’s the insecurity that comes from having been publicly called a terrible lay. It makes me doubt myself.
Aaron is beyond perceptive, though. Whatever my expression is revealing of my inner thoughts, he latches on to them and starts vehemently shaking his head. “Oh no you don’t,” he orders in a commanding growl. “Don’t you even start thinking I don’t want you.”
Well, damn… that’s exactly what I was thinking.
To my shock, Aaron’s fingers band around my wrist, then he starts to drag my hand right down to the bulge straining against his jeans. My eyes widen as I take it in just a mere second before he presses my palm to it.
And it’s huge. Massive. Causes excitement to start pulsing between my legs, but I’m distracted by his low baritone voice, which causes my eyes to lift and lock with his. “Don’t ever have any doubt about how much I desire you, Clarke. But I want you to be with me all the way. I want you to entirely trust me, and not just get carried away by physical lust.”
We stare at each other, faces mere inches apart, and my hand pressed firmly against his erection. All I can do is nod my understanding because my throat is absolutely parched right now.
“How about dinner tomorrow night?” he murmurs, leaning in to graze his lips softly across mine at the same time he releases his hold on my wrist. “I found this great Greek place last month.”
“How about I cook for you?” I suggest instead.
Aaron pulls back, regarding me with deep contemplation. What is that going to look like… tomorrow… him back in my house for a home-cooked meal?
He grins. “Now see… that’s spontaneous.”
I can’t help but laugh. My palms going to his chest, I lean forward to rest my forehead there for just a moment. I feel Aaron’s lips press to the back of my head, and I realize even if he doesn’t feel it… I trust him.
CHAPTER 13
Wylde
“And that’s the last of it,” Baden says as he puts an empty cooler in the back of my truck before closing the tailgate.
“Want to grab some lunch?” I ask him and Kane, the latter eating a small bag of Doritos as we stand around the rear of my truck.
Kane holds the bag up. “This sure isn’t going to tide me over until dinner.”
“I stole a sandwich while in there,” Baden says, thumbing over his shoulder at the building we’d just left. “Well, I didn’t steal it. One of the volunteers thought I looked hungry, and they pressed it into my hand.”
Baden, Kane, and I just got done passing out over one thousand meals to the homeless in that building. It’s one of the many Phoenix-area homeless shelters we’re working with in conjunction with the Vengeance organization to help combat the growing issue. We’d met with the entire team and assorted family members at the arena where truckloads of donated food arrived today. We worked on assembly lines, making sandwiches and vats of soup as well as snack bags. After, we’d loaded up in individual vehicles in small teams of two or three to hit the various shelters around town. We handled the lunch rush for this particular shelter, and it killed me to see so many children in line waiting for what would be their only meal today. It had a profound effect on Kane and Baden as well.
As we were loading up the empty coolers, we all agreed we’d like to do more, but we’re just not sure what more we can do at this point. Definitely a conversation we can continue over lunch.
I nod toward the truck and we get in, Kane taking the front seat and Baden getting into the back of the extended cab.
“Mind if we make a quick stop along the way?” I ask.
They both mutter their assent. I figure I can’t be this close to Clarke’s store without stopping in to say a quick hello.
Sure, I just saw her last night where that kiss had me about ready to fuck her right there on top of the Scrabble board, and, yes, I’m going to see her for dinner this evening, but I can’t seem to fucking help myself. I’d like to see her in the middle of the day, too.
We’re no more than five blocks from her shop and while there’s not a parallel spot right in front, I find one half-a-block down. After I feed the meter, the guys get out of the truck to follow me.
It’s Baden who finally asks, “Where are we going?”
Kane makes the accurate guess. “To see his girlfriend.”
Baden, of course, is stunned and it takes me no more than the half-block we have to walk to fill him in on the fact I’m still seeing the beautiful redhead I’d brought to the weddings.
Just as we’re about to enter, my phone rings. I recognize the number, but it’s a call I don’t have time to take at the moment. I hit the button that will send it to voice mail, intent on returning the call as soon as I leave Clarke’s store.
The bells announce our arrival, and I see Veronica behind the register helping a customer. This doesn’t surprise me as
Clarke told me her friend often helps out around the place. She apparently does this for free, because Clarke also told me that Veronica received so much money in her divorce settlement she never has to work another day in her life if she doesn’t want to. The only problem is that Veronica is incredibly bored being a rich divorcee, so she works here more often than not while she tries to figure out what to do with her life.
She shoots me a welcoming smile. Clarke had introduced us during one of my forays into the store. Just last week, she was polite but regarded me with a bit of skepticism.
Not sure what Clarke has told her since our last few days together, but Veronica’s smile is definitely warmer.
Which is nice but not a requirement.
Baden and Kane walk in behind me, Baden mumbling the word “damn” in an appreciative way under his breath. That means he laid eyes on Veronica, who is every bit of the knockout she has made herself up to be. She’s wearing a wraparound dress that does wonders for her body, and her face is flawlessly beautiful.
I barely spare her a thought as I start walking along the rows of shelves in search of Clarke.
I find her in the third row, a box on the floor at her feet as she slides books into their appropriate spots.
My movement catches her eye. I have to say the delight on her face when she sees me feels pretty fucking good. I’ve never had anyone look at me quite that way before.
Sure, I’ve had women regard me appreciatively, but that has to do with either my physical attributes or the celebrity that comes attached to my name.
Clarke appears as if I just turned her day from good to insanely fucking awesome.
“Hey… what are you doing here?” she asks, brushing a lock of hair back from the corner of her glasses.
“In the area, so I just thought I’d drop in,” I reply as I walk toward her. I don’t hesitate because I don’t know how long we’ll have this cherished bit of privacy, but I lean in and give her a long, slow kiss. She fucking purrs as she melts into me, and I have to end our embrace before my body reacts.
When I hear Veronica laugh, I figure Kane or Baden must be entertaining her. I take Clarke’s hand, then lead her to the front of the store.
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