In Too Deep (Doing Bad Things Book 2)

by Jordan Marie

It’s a laugh that wraps around me and makes me smile. It’s a laugh that feels…free It’s a laugh that’s followed by another kiss.

  And it must be said…

  I liked that even more.

  34

  Aden

  “You are a genius!” Hope cries, running towards me full speed. I catch her and bring her up against me, while she laughs and wraps her arms so they loop behind my neck.

  “I’m glad you think so,” I grin. “Can I ask what brought you to this conclusion?”

  “We have four rooms rented, Aden! Four!” she squeals in victory. “You’re a genius!”

  “How’s that?” I ask. I mean I’m glad she thinks it, but I’m not understanding the correlation between the two.

  “They heard about our motel on the radio! Your ad you convinced the local radio station to do worked!!! Aden! We have guests!!!” she cries.

  “I’m glad honey,” I answer, enjoying the happiness on her face.

  “You did it! You made us a success!”

  “No honey. I didn’t.”

  “What? Of course you did! Didn’t you hear what I just said? We have four rooms rented! And two of those are renting for the weekend too!!!”

  “Babe, I didn’t do that. You did,” I tell her honestly, cupping the side of her face.

  “What? It was your ads…”

  “Hope, look around. What do you see?”

  “Aden, I don’t understand.”

  “Look around. The colors of the motel, the fresh paint, the landscaping, the neon sign and the vintage feel that you wanted, who did all that?”

  “I hired…”

  “You did it. The stuff you had to hire out, you did, true. But, I know in my heart—even if I can’t remember it—that you are the one who did the painting, the cleaning and washing, the designing, the landscaping—”

  “You’ve helped with the landscaping, Aden. You’ve helped with a lot.”

  “Just lately. I didn’t help you at all before, did I?”

  “Uh… Well no. But it wasn’t your job,” she says, looking down at the ground.

  “I’m a man. A man, if he’s any kind of a man, works and breaks his back to help his woman and to provide for her.”

  “Aden maybe we should talk—”

  “I can’t remember our past, but I think it’s coming through loud and clear that I was not a man, not a good one.”

  “It is?” she asks, blinking. “I think maybe you’re being unfair.”

  “I’m glad the accident happened,” I confess, and her body goes rigid against me.

  “You don’t mean that. Aden you could have died hitting that concrete like that and it was all my fault. You told me I needed to fix the railing. You did. I should have hired it done, but money has been so tight and I was worried no one would come stay here. I was afraid to spend much more. So I was going to fix it. I had it on my list, but I had so much to do and I was trying to take care of Jack and I just…”

  “Hope. I should have fixed it for you. I was here, I could have done it.”

  “It wasn’t your—”

  “Did I have my dick inside of you, Hope?”

  “What?” she gasps.

  “While the fence was messed up, Babe. Was. My. Dick. Inside. You?”

  “Well…”

  “Simple question, Hope.”

  “It’s a rude question,” she mutters, looking down at the ground.

  “What’s the answer?” I grin.

  “Yes, Aden you had your dick inside of me, while the fence was messed up. Though I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” she all but growls.

  “Because I told you, but I don’t think you got it, so I’m going to say it again.”

  “Aden, we really need to—”

  I press my lips to hers, to stop her from talking.

  “A man, who is any kind of man, gives his dick to a woman, and that woman is a good woman, he takes care of her. He doesn’t tell her to fix something, he fixes it for her.”

  “I… I don’t know how to process this. I don’t know how to process you, really. You’re… so different from before,” she whispers, and I can see unshed tears shining in her eyes.

  “Maybe what we need is time to get to know each other again.”

  “But—”

  “I can’t remember my past. How about from this day on, you forget the past too?”

  “But—”

  I pull away from her and hold out my hand. “I’m Aden… Fuck … Hope…”

  “What? What is it?” she asks worried, probably because she can hear the frustration and partial fear in my voice. I might be a man, but I can definitely own up to the fear that I’m feeling right now.

  “I don’t know my name.”

  “Of course you do. It’s Aden. What’s wrong?”

  “No, I mean with everything that’s going on, everything I’ve learned… I don’t even know my last name. Yours even! How could I have not asked or found out. I haven’t even… Fuck… Do I even have a wallet?”

  I watch as color leeches out of Hope’s face and she takes a step back. She blinks a couple of times and takes a breath. I forget she doesn’t like to be reminded of this crap any more than I do. It has to hurt her that the man she… Fuck, I don’t even know if she ever loved me.

  “Your wallet was, uh…stolen.”

  “Stolen?”

  “Yeah. You went out to the bar one night. We had had a fight and you wanted to go blow off some steam. You were robbed. Lost all your money, ID, cards, all of it.”

  “Here in town? Have you followed up with the sheriff?”

  “I…the case is closed. They couldn’t find who it was. There were some drifters in from out of town. You know how it is,” she shrugs, avoiding my eyes and I feel like I’ve stepped on another landmine that has upset her somehow.

  “What’s our last name?”

  “Well they’re not the same…”

  “What? We’re married! You didn’t take my name?”

  “Well no… you didn’t want me to. You hated your name.”

  “What’s my name, Hope?”

  “I… well…”

  “Hope,” I growl, because she’s not answering. She’s looking around us at the rooms, the office, the sign…everywhere and anywhere—but at me.

  “Aden, really I think we should talk,” she starts, taking a few steps away from me.

  “What is my name?” I growl again, my frustration building. “Christ, is there some reason you can’t just give me a straightforward answer on things? It always develops into these stories! Stories that leave me wishing I hadn’t asked in the first place. That’s probably why I haven’t asked about my name before now,” I grumble.

  I’m not being fair. I know I’m not. But, I’m so sick of not being… normal. I hate it when moments like this happen and I feel completely lost and out of my depth. It might not be Hope’s fault, but it’s so frustrating that she can’t just give me pertinent information and let the rest go. I know I was a dick. I know I fucked up. I hate these constant reminders of that, and I get the feeling she’s about to launch into another explanation that will make me feel like I should just cut off my balls and let her hang them in a fucking closet.

  “Stop growling at me! You’re not being reasonable.”

  “Well I’m not feeling reasonable. Maybe I would if you would just tell me my name,” I huff out loudly, holding my head down, and pinching the bridge of my nose.

  “It’s Hard-Acre!”

  “Hard… what?”

  “Hard-Acre. We named the motel after you. Are you satisfied now?”

  “Aden… Hard-Acre?” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t even asked.

  “Well, yeah,” she says, hugging her arms around herself in a defensive position.

  Great. I’ve scared her… scared her and…

  “Shit. My name sounds like a porn star,” I growl, looking down at the ground.

  I hear Hope’s gasp. I bring my gaze back to her and that’s when
she laughs.

  And somehow her laugh makes it better.

  35

  Hope

  “What are you doing?”

  It was a stupid question really. A fool could see what Aden was doing. I didn’t need to ask to know, but I asked. I even closed my eyes. Maybe if I closed my eyes, squeezed them closed tight enough Aden would disappear. When I opened them back up, it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, because Aden was still standing there.

  Standing there with his shirt off and unbuckling his belt.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks easily, like he wasn’t undressing in front of me.

  “It looks like you’re getting…naked!” I hiss.

  “I’m not,” he answers, but before I can breathe any easier I hear the sound of his zipper releasing.

  Now it’s been two weeks. Two weeks in which I’ve become so adept at lying that I’m starting to believe the lies myself. It’s been two weeks of spending time with this new Aden. Two weeks in which nothing has happened to destroy my happy-ever-after web of lies. Two weeks that I’ve spent with Aden. And when I say that, I mean almost every hour of the day we’re together. We’ve laughed, we’ve talked—and it should be said that most of that time I haven’t had to lie—we’ve hugged, we’ve kissed and we’ve made out.

  Aden is getting to be an expert at reaching second base in record time. He’s taken a lead toward third base, but he has definitely not hit it. Which is slowly killing me. Because I want him at third base. Hell, I can admit it. I want him sliding all the way home.

  He’s even started sleeping on the sofa in the living room. Which is fine. I like having him under the same roof as Jack and I. I do. It feels good. It feels happy.

  What he has not done, what we have not done is sleep in the same bed together during these two weeks. He has not undressed in front of me and my hands have most definitely kept above the belt at all times. So the fact that Aden is standing here in front of me—undressing—is freaking me out.

  I’m on a mountain of carefully constructed lies. It’s like a house of cards. They’ve been delicately placed—though they’ve pretty much just been thrown out there in wild panic—and they’re settled. They’re in place and I have to dance and skirt around them to keep the status quo. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, and it could all fall apart with just the slow, smooth pull of his zipper.

  The zipper which is right this second currently undone.

  My eyes go round as he pushes his pants down his body, kicking them to the side. Aden has a beautiful body. His upper body is covered in these Gaelic inked designs that make me want to lick each individual one. His chest has hair. He’s more real man than these models which grace the runways these days on the fashion scene. I doubt there’s a spot on his body that has been waxed, and I like it that way. I find myself wanting to bury my face against it and breathe him in. His legs are strong and powerful. You look at them and wonder if he could pin you against the wall and take your weight while he slides deep inside of you. Well, hopefully, not everyone thinks that, but when I look at them, that’s what I think, that’s what I imagine and the image…is hot. Still, like I said, I’m on a careful mountain of lies and sleeping with Aden is not allowed. I can’t do that. I can’t give myself to him, knowing that soon it will all be ripped away and he’ll go back to being the asshole who hates me, and likely the asshole who destroys my entire life and I’ll be… here.

  Alone. Destroyed.

  “It looks like you’re getting naked!”

  “Babe,” he says, shaking his head. Probably doing this because I have the sheet pulled so high it’s up to my neck and I’m threatening to hide under the covers. “Do I look naked?” he asks, smiling down at me.

  “I like it better when you call me honey,” I grumble, and I do for the most part. Probably because when he calls me honey, he’s being sweet and when he calls me babe he’s definitely being bossy. A bossy I like, but a bossy that also reminds me of the old Aden, which in turn, reminds me that I’m a liar and a horrible person, much worse than even the old Aden was, which in turn makes me miserable. There’s a bunch of twisty-turns and all of them… are yucky.

  I’m learning that life is a vicious cycle when you’re a lying witch.

  He climbs in bed with me and I have to admit he’s not naked. He’s wearing briefs, but he’s naked everywhere else and I’m nearing panic mode as he settles against the pillow.

  “Relax,” he prompts, turning on his side to look at me.

  “I thought you were sleeping on the couch?” I whisper, licking my lips because suddenly my throat is dry.

  “I was. Now I’m not. Now I’m sleeping beside my woman.”

  “Your… woman?”

  “I understand that our relationship wasn’t much to begin with Hope. I get that it was largely my fault.”

  “It was all your fault really. Aden, I hate to tell you this, but you can be a real bastard when you want to be,” I whisper. The truth is, at this point I like to remind myself of what an asshole he was. It makes me feel marginally better about lying.

  “Thanks for your honesty,” he laughs, not realizing he just struck a major blow. A blow that hits so deep my body jerks, slightly. “Be honest with me now, too. Can you do that?” he asks, his face going soft and serious. His hand reaches out to my chin and his fingers caress my face.

  “I can try,” I whisper, praying I can be honest with him, because this moment seems important.

  “Do you like having me in your life? Especially this last week?”

  “Absolutely,” I tell him, not even thinking about it.

  “And the kissing and the touching we’ve been doing. You like that too, don’t you Hope?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  “A man likes to hear if he makes his woman happy,” he responds, his voice dropping down into a graveled whisper that feels like it could melt me from the inside out.

  “Aden. I’m not sure we should—”

  “We’re not going to, honey,” he answers before I can finish my thought. I swallow down the disappointment I feel at his answer. It’s good we’re not going to have sex. It is.

  “What are we doing then?” I ask, when his hand moves to the spaghetti strap on my camisole.

  “I’m going to make you feel good. That’s all, I promise,” he says gently as his fingers trace down my arm, moving across my collarbone, and then further down, raking against my nipple which is pushing against the fabric. It’s a familiar game that we’ve been playing—especially the last week, but the fact that we’re both lying in the bed changes everything.

  He spends time tweaking my nipple, before his hand travels to my waist.

  “I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” I whisper, as his fingers gather the end of my camisole and then he’s pulling it over my head. I don’t fight him though. I see the heat and the need in his eyes. The same need that has been shining in them the last few days. The same need that I figure is reflected in mine.

  “How about you let me show you just what a good idea this is, Hope?” he whispers, his gaze is focused on my breasts. I don’t answer. Before I can, his lips are on my nipple and he has it captured between his teeth. When he pulls on it and then sucks it into his mouth, I know I’m lost.

  36

  Aden

  I hope I’m not pushing this too soon, but the truth is, I’m getting blue balls sleeping on the fucking couch every night and imagining Hope in here alone, in the bed… I don’t know exactly what my damage was before. I’m praying to God she is exaggerating on all the details she’s given me. Either way, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I want her and I need to make her mine.

  I undress her slowly, mostly because I can feel the nerves she keeps fighting. She’s as nervous as a deer being spotted out in the open by a hunter. Then again, that’s exactly what I feel like.

  A hunter.

  Here to inspect her body, find the weakest spots to make
my target with only one thought on my mind.

  To completely take her over.

  I finally get her shirt over her head, and I may not remember having women before her—or even having her, but cognitively I know that I’ve seen women nude before. Right now, however, I can’t imagine ever seeing anything more beautiful than Hope, lying here with her shirt off, pajama pants on, and her hair mussed against the pillow.

  “Aden, this is a bad idea. We don’t really know each other. I mean we do, but what we know isn’t exactly good. It’s all new really. This being the new you, and me basically being a new me,” she rattles, and I find myself grinning.

  “Babe,” I laugh. “Shut it.”

  “Shut it?” she gasps.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m just explaining why we shouldn’t do this,” she pouts.

  “And I said we weren’t going all the way—”

  “But—”

  “I want to make you feel good, but if you keep arguing with me. I’m going to find other things to do with that mouth.”

  “Aden—”

  “And if I do that, I can’t be responsible for what comes next. A man only has so much willpower.”

  “This is me, shutting it,” she murmurs.

  “Good girl.”

  I smile when I feel her body shudder against me. The strangest feeling pops in my head. It’s a small voice that tells me it’s never been like this before, that Hope is special. Strange, because I can’t remember anything before Hope—even the times we’ve had together. But, maybe my body just remembers.

  “We need to make a rule,” I whisper against her skin as I kiss along her shoulder, letting my teeth rake gently against the skin.

  “What kind of rule?” she gasps. My hand palms one of her tits, kneading it. It overfills my hand and it’s so fucking soft I ache to bury my face between them, my tongue… my dick.

  I hum against her nipple, before wrapping my tongue around it. It’s a pale pink in color and the nipple is large… it’s fucking beautiful. Big enough my teeth can clamp down on it, pull it roughly in my mouth and then suck hard enough that I can feel it throb against my tongue. Her body lifts toward me, jerking as my finger teases her other nipple—not wanting it to be lonely.