Play On

by Samantha Young

  Wow. I exhaled slowly on his name, “Aidan.”

  His eyes closed as if he was in pain and he dropped his forehead to mine. His cologne washed over me, the heat of him prickling my skin like I’d stepped out of an air-conditioned room into the hot sun. “I want to hear you say my name like that when I’m inside you,” he murmured against my lips.

  I was happy to oblige and my fingers curled into his T-shirt telling him so.

  “But,” he snapped back up to full height, “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall on you like a sex-starved teenager as soon as you walked in the door. I need you to know this is more than sex for me, Nora.”

  It was something Jim had said to me when we’d first become friends. At the time, I’d thought it was sweet, special, because the boys at school had made it clear that it would only ever be about sex if I was to give them the time of day. It was strange, though, how two men could say the same thing to me and yet I reacted so completely differently.

  With Aidan, it didn’t feel just sweet to hear those words.

  It felt like my heart was breaking from the joy of such a promise from him. I never knew happiness and need and excitement could be painful when you felt them in extremes.

  “Me too,” I promised in return.

  Aidan gripped one of my hands. “Let me show you the flat. We’ve got a nice view here.”

  The hallway led out from our left into an open-plan living room and kitchen, and a corridor ran along the side of the kitchen into the back of the apartment. The living room and what could have been a dining area but was apparently a small music studio were situated in the large space at the front of the room with twin patio doors and balconies looking out over the canal and the city beyond.

  “This is beautiful,” I said honestly. There was a table and chairs on one of the balconies. “It must be nice to sit out there and have breakfast on a sunny morning.”

  His smile was fond. “Sylvie’s favorite thing to do, in fact.”

  “I love how you love her,” I said without thinking.

  “More than anything.”

  I didn’t tell him but his love for his kid was one of the sexiest things about him. Smiling, I turned from the view, taking in the baby grand piano, guitars (electric and acoustic), keyboard, and a large desk with a three-monitor computer on it against the far wall that ran right up to the entrance. It was the only wall with exposed brick and that along with the hardwood floors gave the apartment a city-loft feel.

  “My studio,” Aidan said, rueful. “It used to be a dining area and my studio was in the second bedroom where I had sound-proofing on the walls, but I had to rip it all out and make it a bedroom for Sylvie. There haven’t been any complaints from the neighbors yet and I work in an actual studio in New Town, but we’ll probably need to move at some point. Get a place that works better for us.”

  I wandered over to the computer and instruments, amazed that Aidan could sit here and create and write and produce music. “You’re so clever.”

  “For all you know, I’m shit at it.”

  I snorted and turned to find him grinning cheekily at me. God, his boyish smile was sexier than anything else. “I somehow doubt that.”

  He shrugged and I laughed, taking that to mean he was shit hot at it, and I wandered past him toward the kitchen at the back of the room.

  Sleek, white, and shiny, it wasn’t my kind of kitchen—I preferred the country cottage look—but it worked in the space. And I liked the island with the stools.

  Aidan gestured. “Kitchen. Obviously.” He led me past it.

  Down the corridor, behind the kitchen was a door on the right. Aidan opened it to reveal a large bedroom. The walls were painted blue and situated in the middle was a bed fit for a princess. It was a mini four-poster with purple gauze curtains draped down the posts from the frame at the top. The bedding was purple with cushions of velvet and Indian silk in jewel tones piled on top. It was the kind of bed a kid could dive into and get lost in. Bookshelves lined the walls, cluttered with books and soft toys, dolls, photos in picture frames, and knickknacks. Opposite the bed was a cabinet with a TV, DVD player, and a computer console. Adjacent to that was a little desk with an iMac. A large wardrobe suggested she had plenty of clothes and shoes, and a purple velvet cuddle chair and matching stool in the corner had an open book draped over the arm.

  Sylvie Lennox had lost the most important person in her world, and although he could never replace that, her uncle Aidan had made sure she had everything else she could ever want or need.

  Tears burned my eyes as I imagined this man gutting his music studio—something incredibly important to him—and creating a room like this for Sylvie.

  “It’s perfect,” I whispered.

  “Aye, well, she deserves it.”

  I nodded and stepped back outside, because being in there made me more emotional than I’d like.

  As if he knew, Aidan closed the door and then pointed down the hall, swiftly changing our focus. “The master suite is down there.”

  “Oh.” I stared down the hall, anticipating walking in there with him. My pulse raced. Up until this point I hadn’t been nervous about having sex with Aidan because in our little prelude, it hadn’t even crossed my mind to care. We were so caught up in each other.

  But now I felt little nervous butterflies join the ones that fluttered around with anticipation. From what I could deduce, Aidan Lennox had been around. Even without the twelve more years of sexual experience than I had, he’d still be more sexually experienced. I’d only ever slept with Jim, and I never got the impression Jim was dissatisfied. Yet that was different, because Jim was in love with me. What if I wasn’t enough for a guy like Aidan? What if I didn’t know enough?

  “Wine?” Aidan suddenly asked.

  My gaze flew to his and I could see his brow was a little furrowed, as if he was wondering what I was thinking. “Wine?”

  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  How did I tell him I wasn’t a wine kind of gal?

  “No to the wine?”

  “Do you have beer instead?”

  Aidan grinned and started toward the kitchen. I hurried after him and he glanced over his shoulder at me while he pulled two bottles out of his fridge, popped them open, and handed me one. The cold bottle made me shiver. Or it could have been the heat in Aidan’s eyes that had never really eased from the second he’d let me in the door.

  “I’m not sophisticated,” I blurted out before I could think about what I was revealing. “I’m from a tiny town, I didn’t go to college, I married at eighteen, we lived a simple life, I still live a simple life, and I’ve never been anywhere else but Indiana and Scotland.” I let out a shaky breath. “And I drink beer.”

  I could tell Aidan was trying not to laugh and I didn’t get what was funny until he said, “You’re fucking perfect.”

  Jim had thought so too. “No one’s perfect.”

  “You are to me.”

  “Such a sweet talker.”

  “Only with you.”

  And I think I believed him. “Why?” I wasn’t looking for compliments, I merely wanted to understand. “I’m not filled with false modesty, Aidan. I really have no clue what Jim saw in me. I know I’m not ugly, but it was like he got struck by a thunderbolt when we met. And then he never stopped loving me. But why? Because he didn’t really know me. I sometimes think he loved a version of me he’d made up in his head. And now you. You say you want me too.” I gestured to all that was him. “You’ve seen you, right?”

  This time he did grin. “Have you always been this funny?”

  “I’m being serious.”

  At my tone, his amusement fled. “I’m not Jim. Did you have this connection with him?”

  I shook my head sadly.

  “Then there’s the difference. What I feel is sparked by what you feel, and vice versa. No one can explain attraction, Nora. It’s there or it isn’t. As for Jim … I’ll never really know what made him fall for you but I can guess.
You have a wise, soulful quality, as if you’ve seen more than most your age. It gives you a maturity I’ve rarely encountered in someone as young as you. And yet whatever that is, it’s mixed with innocence and vulnerability that I don’t think you even realize is there. And you’re petite, Pixie,” his gaze dragged down my body hungrily, “feminine in every way. That fragility, along with your appearance … well, it makes a certain kind of man want to protect you—it brings out the caveman in him.”

  I raised an eyebrow, having never regarded myself in that way before. I didn’t feel fragile. Vulnerable, yes, sometimes, but not fragile. The thought that men somehow saw me as weak, irked. It more than irked that Aidan might be attracted to me because he thought I needed his protection. “Are you that kind of man?”

  “I’m not going to lie—it definitely caught my attention when I first saw you. But as I’ve gotten to know you? No, that’s not the appeal. I’ve never been interested in dating someone your age. I like my women smart, mature, and intelligent as well as sexy. You’re all those things. And anyone who really knows you realizes quickly that you don’t need anyone to protect you. You just need someone to listen. To see who you really are.”

  And he was so right. I thought of my parents and how I spoke and they never really listened, and how Jim was the same. How Seonaid tried but Jim always got in the way.

  Aidan was the first person I’d met since Mel who really listened. He was the first person since Mel who I wanted to give all of my thoughts to. Like he’d given his secret thoughts to me.

  “I think that’s what you need too.”

  “Exactly.”

  I took a swig of my beer because I felt too much and I was scared it was all about to come spewing out. My eyes flew around the room, looking for a distraction, and it caught on the piano. Walking around the kitchen counter, I made my way over to it. I reached out to touch its shiny black lacquered surface and then pulled my hand back.

  “Do you play?” Aidan asked as he followed me over.

  I shook my head and looked up at him. “Will you play something for me?”

  He reached for my beer and I gave it up, bemused. Aidan walked back over to the kitchen counter and put them down, and I felt the tension emanating off him as he strode back to me.

  Suddenly, I was in his arms and his hands were smoothing down my back and over my ass, pulling me into him. “Later,” he promised. “Right now, I’d rather play you.”

  My heart rate took off as I clutched him, my whole body swelling into him with need. “What about our drinks and not jumping on me like a sex-starved teenager?”

  “Here’s something you should know about me, Pixie.” He bent his head to brush his mouth over mine, just a whisper, a tease. “I can be a selfish fuck when I want something.”

  My hands slid around his neck. “As long as you’re not a selfish fuck, I don’t care.”

  His body shook with laughter and his arms tightened around me. “Have I told you lately how much I like you?”

  I grinned back. “I like you too.”

  “And I’m definitely not a selfish fuck,” he growled. He kissed me hard and then pulled back. “I promised my head between your legs and I meant it.”

  A strong ripple of desire flooded my belly, making me wet. “Aidan,” I breathed, holding on tighter, fearing my legs wouldn’t keep me standing much longer.

  He groaned and kissed me, lifting me easily into his arms so I could wrap my legs around his thighs. Kissing me voraciously, he began walking us blindly toward the back of the apartment. Any nervousness I’d felt was, like last time, obliterated by my body’s craving for him.

  “Oh my God.”

  The strange, feminine voice filled with shock drew us apart near the kitchen, our heads flying toward the apartment door. It was now open and a beautiful, tall, curvaceous blond was gaping at us in stunned silence as she held a key in one hand and grocery bag in the other.

  “Laine.” Aidan slowly dropped me to the floor but I kept clinging to him, confused by the sudden appearance of this gorgeous creature. Who the hell was she?

  She wore a casual navy and white maxi dress that hugged her generous curves and flat sandals with little crystals decorating the straps; her long blond hair fell around her shoulders in silky, tousled waves, and her makeup was done to perfection. She really was quite something to look at.

  And she obviously had a key to Aidan’s apartment.

  At that realization, I tried to pull away but he held on.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Laine closed the door behind her, having apparently gathered her wits after walking in on us. “I wanted to see you and I brought dinner. I’m sorry.” She stopped in front of us, giving me a small, apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d have company. You said in your text that Sylvie was with her dad tonight.” After lowering the grocery bag to the floor, she reached out a hand to me and Aidan finally let me go so I could accept it. “I’m Laine, Aidan’s best friend.”

  Aidan’s best friend? How come he’d never mentioned her, then?

  I could see, despite how put together she was, the faintest of lines around her eyes that suggested she and Aidan were the same age. She reeked of expensive perfume, money, and class. Much like him. Minus the perfume, of course. “Nora. I’m a … friend too.”

  “Nora is more than a friend.” Aidan shot me a displeased look that disappeared when he turned to Laine. Affection lit his expression and I felt an unaccountable jealousy over it. “It’s nice to have you home.” My jealousy only worsened as he hugged her and her fingers curled into his back.

  Hmm.

  Best friend, indeed.

  “I can leave,” Laine said, stepping back from him.

  “No, don’t. You’ve been gone a while.” Aidan’s reply surprised me. Weren’t we just about to rip each other’s clothes off? And yes, I knew it would be impolite to ask her to leave, especially since they hadn’t seen each other for whatever reason, but I couldn’t help the fact that my hurt was pricked. He turned to me. “Laine is a film producer for a small production company. She’s been filming in New Zealand for weeks.”

  Wow.

  Okay.

  So not only was she beautiful, she was successful.

  There was absolutely no reason to be threatened by that since apparently, they were just friends. Yet, Laine wasn’t looking at Aidan like he was just a friend. And while she may have shaken my hand, I didn’t miss the chill in the back of her pretty blue eyes when she did so.

  “I brought dessert.” Laine lifted the bag. “I like my dessert. As if you couldn’t tell.” She ran her hands over her generous hips in a self-deprecating way that rang false. Laine must have been five ten. She was all slim waist, long legs, big bust, and full hips.

  Basically, she was a walking wet dream and my total opposite in every way. I watched Aidan for any reaction to her but he was looking at me. There was apology in his expression and, if I wasn’t mistaken, sexual frustration.

  I relaxed marginally, realizing he was being a good friend, but that didn’t mean he welcomed the interruption.

  Ungenerously, I thought that if Laine was any kind of friend, she would’ve read the situation and given us privacy. Then I realized she had a key to his apartment and my jealousy returned tenfold.

  How could I be jealous of a woman Aidan had been friends with for God knows how long? He and I had only met for real a few months ago. But jealous I was, and I did not like the emotion. Not even a little bit.

  Attempting to cover my feelings, I gave him a reassuring smile and watched as he followed Laine into the kitchen to share out the pyramid of profiteroles and wine she’d brought. They worked around each other with ease, silently giving away their comfort with each other.

  I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling I was the one who was intruding. “Bathroom?” I asked Aidan.

  He gestured to me to come to him and I walked over, wanting to tug at my dress but stopping
myself from making it obvious that I felt like a young country bumpkin next to Laine’s casual sophistication.

  Aidan’s hand came to rest on my lower back, his fingers touching my ass, as he guided me down the hall to a door opposite the one he’d said was the master suite. He pushed it open, revealing a good-sized bathroom, tiled in a masculine gray slate. It had a large shower, an amazing claw-footed tub, and the essentials of toilet and sink. Aidan lowered his head and brushed a kiss across my lips. He murmured, “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Don’t be,” I whispered. “She’s your friend.”

  His hand on my back pressed me deeper to him. “Just a friend.”

  I believed him. It was Laine I wasn’t so sure about. Call it female intuition.

  After he left me, I closed the door, lost in my thoughts. Maybe I was being unfair. Just because I couldn’t understand any woman not being attracted to Aidan didn’t mean that every woman was. It wasn’t my place to question her motives. Not yet, anyway.

  I moved toward the bathroom only to realize there wasn’t any toilet paper. Embarrassment filled me. I would have to go out and ask for some. Great. Willing the heat out of my cheeks, I opened the bathroom door and had just stepped into the hall when I heard my name in low tones.

  “Yes, that’s Nora.” Aidan said.

  “She’s the girl who dresses like Peter Pan, isn’t she? At the hospital.”

  I sucked in a breath, leaning back against the wall, knowing eavesdropping was not cool but was unable to stop. Aidan had told Laine about me but he hadn’t told me about Laine? What did that mean?

  “I can’t believe you’re fucking Peter Pan.”

  “For God’s sake, Laine.”

  “Well, you are. I didn’t walk in on something innocent here, Aidan.”

  “I’m not sleeping with her. Yet.”