by Janie Crouch
“Yeah, almost like a big, extended family. I guess I dove in headfirst with that here.”
“Sometimes headfirst is the best way to go.”
Violet sighed. She could keep stuffing fruit into her mouth and drinking her coffee, but it wasn’t going to change what she’d said last night. She was tempted to ignore it, maybe even pretend like she had no recollection of the absurd things she’d told him. But it was always going to be between them. She might as well get the talk over with.
And yet she still sat there popping grapes into her mouth, one after another.
“Want me to go get some more?” he asked after she’d eaten the last one.
“I’m sorry for all that crazy stuff I said last night.” The words came out slightly mangled by the six grapes she was still chewing.
What was wrong with her? She had a relatively high IQ. Why could she not seem to have any sort of intelligent conversation with this man?
Thankfully, he just waited as she swallowed the last of the grapes. “I was drunk last night—you may have noticed—so there’s no reason to pay any attention to anything I said.”
He studied her from across the table. “Do you even remember what you said last night?”
She closed her eyes. “Unfortunately, damn near every word. I haven’t referred to my breasts as boobs since I was . . . well, I don’t think I’ve ever referred to my breasts as boobs.”
All of a sudden, she was overtly aware that her breasts or boobs or whatever anybody wanted to call them were bare under that white T-shirt. The bustier hadn’t allowed for a bra, so she didn’t have one now. She crossed her arms over her chest, wincing when Aiden’s eyes followed her actions. He had to know she didn’t have a bra on too, considering he was the one who’d peeled her out of her outfit last night.
“Anyway,” she finally forced out, “I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “Is that so? In my experience, I’ve found drunk people, children, and leggings always tell the truth.”
She couldn’t help but snicker at that and relax a little bit. This didn’t have to be so bad. “As much as I’m tempted to get that on a cross-stitch pillow, what I’m trying to say is I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Again. I’m sorry you had to babysit me, and just know that I don’t expect you to actually . . . keep your promise.”
He didn’t say anything, just shifted his legs so that they were stretched out on either side of hers. Him touching her, even casually, was not helping her with this conversation.
“And which promise was that?” he asked.
Oh please God don’t make her say the words out loud. Not when they were sitting here in the beautiful Wyoming sunshine like normal, happy friends. This was going to throw things directly into awkward.
“The one where, you know . . .” She couldn’t force the words out. She wanted to melt into the porch.
“The one where I promised to fuck you hard and dirty next time you wanted it?”
His long legs on either side of hers closed, trapping her legs between his. He leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees, and trailed his fingers up and down her thighs.
Violet forgot how to breathe. “Yep, that’s the one,” she finally managed to push past her lips.
“Maybe I’m not interested in being released from that promise.” His fingers were still touching her legs.
“But last week you said you weren’t . . .”
“Last weekend when we talked, I handled things poorly. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, I should be apologizing to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
He reached up and played with a piece of her hair that had fallen from her haphazard bun. “You’ve been through a trauma, Firefly. That changes a person, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but usually both. I think what you’re doing with the bakery is fantastic. Maybe not for my waistline, but definitely for you, since it seems like it’s what you want.”
She nodded. “It is.”
“Good. When you showed up here last week, I was caught off guard. So when you told me you wanted me, I lumped in what you were saying with the effects of trauma. I didn’t handle it well.” His lips pressed together in a slight grimace.
She eased back from him. What exactly was he saying? The last thing she wanted was for him to do something with her because he felt sorry for her or guilty or something. “I don’t need to be handled. And I don’t need to be pitied either.”
His fingers tugged on the strand of hair. “Pity is the very last thing I’ve ever felt for you.”
“Good. Because I’m a normal woman with a normal woman’s desires. The question I asked you was simple. Do you want me or not?”
“But it’s not actually that simple.”
She threw up her hands. “But it is, Aiden. Just answer the damn question. Do you want me or not?”
She didn’t want him to pity her. If he wasn’t attracted to her, then fine. She was a big girl, she could handle it.
Before she could even process what was happening, he’d lifted her off her chair and onto his, her legs straddling his. His fingers bit into her hips and ass as he pulled her down hard, rubbing her very deliberately against him.
“You want the simple answer: yes. Fucking yes, I want you.”
The hardness pressing between her legs could leave no doubt about that.
His fingers slid up her back and threaded into her hair, forcing her head closer to his. “It is that simple,” he continued, “and yet it’s not. I didn’t explain it well last weekend, so let me explain it now.”
“Is it because you see me as damaged? Because of what they did to me?”
She was surprised at her own words. Those thoughts had been buried so deep inside her she hadn’t even been aware it was something she feared. But now that the words were out she realized they very much were.
Aiden had seen her at her lowest. He had seen her when she was trapped and helpless and being treated as if she were less than human. How could that not affect how he saw her now?
He pulled her face closer. “No. The only people I will ever think of as damaged in that situation were those bastards who treated you like that, Randy and those assholes buying people at the auction. I have never thought of you as less than absolutely courageous.”
She just shrugged.
His fingers gentled in her hair, and his voice thickened. “I left you behind. You suffered so much more because I couldn’t get you out that first night.”
“What? No. You tried.” She grabbed his face in her hands. She already knew what had happened the night at The Barn and how he’d been willing to blow his undercover status to get her away from Randy and Dillon.
He shook his head. “Leave no fallen comrade behind. That’s part of the army warrior creed. And I failed miserably.”
Those hazel eyes held such anguish her heart might shatter. She’d never once considered that he’d paid a price in all this too. “Aiden, I—”
He held a finger up to her lips. “That’s not for you to worry about, and it’s not what’s important. What I bungled saying last weekend was that our situation is complicated because yes, I want you. But I want to take this as slow and easy as you need. You’ve got nothing to prove, and there’s no need to rush.”
“But—”
“I’m here. I made you a promise last night, and believe me, I have no problem keeping it. Whatever type of sex you want—hard, dirty, slow, easy—I’m more than up for it.”
“But . . .” She could hear the word even if he wasn’t saying it.
He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “But . . . do it because you want to, not because you think you have to. Not because you’re forcing yourself. Because as much as I’m willing to have sex with you, I’m also willing to just hang out, if you want. Go on dates, picnics, dancing . . . do things that fill up your memories with good stuff until it pushes out the thoughts of wha
t they did to you. And those things don’t have to be sex.”
Oh.
“Because you’re amazing and beautiful and spending time with you would be my pleasure. Then when you’re ready, we can add the sex. It doesn’t have to be now. Your kidnapping has already been the catalyst for a lot of changes in your life. And that’s fine. But I just want to make sure you’re sure before you jump into bed with me.”
Violet leaned back so she could look at Aiden more clearly. He was a good, honorable man. She’d known that, sensed it from the moment she’d first met him in the damn Barn. He’d done nothing but take care of her and help her in any way he was able to from the moment he’d seen her at The Barn until last night, when he’d slipped her into one of his T-shirts and left her sleeping in his bed.
Aiden Teague was one of the good guys.
What she wanted to know was whether she could find the bad boy inside that good man.
Because while she appreciated what he was offering, and she really did plan to take him up on the dancing, picnics, and dates, he didn’t quite seem to grasp that she knew what she wanted.
No more being passive. No more agreeing to what might in fact be good for her but wasn’t what she really wanted.
“You respect me,” she said gently.
The relief flashed and those hazel eyes. “Yes. I have nothing but respect for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, trailing her fingers through his thick hair. “And thank you for getting me home safely last night. And like I said before, thank you for getting me out of that hellhole a month ago, for figuring out that I was in trouble when to anyone else it just looked like a normal part of that situation.”
His brows furrowed. “You’re welcome for all those things. But there’s no need—”
She put her finger up to his lips. “I just wanted to say it one more time to make sure I’d been clear. Because now I’m done saying thank you. And I think you better take me inside. Otherwise, Mrs. Mazille and her neighborhood watch might get quite an eyeful with what I’m planning to do to you.”
Chapter 15
There was only so much a man could take. A line where he snapped. A great deal of his Special Forces training had been spent learning how to push that line as far back as possible.
But when Violet’s fingers reached for the hem of the T-shirt covering her body and began pulling it off, Aiden found his line very clearly.
He’d given her every possible out. She was young—so impossibly young, for God’s sake she’d just woken up hungover for the first time—and he’d been trying to do the right thing, trying to explain he’d take it slow.
But now she’d made her choice. He hadn’t been lying when he said he respected her. But respect didn’t necessarily mean keeping his distance. Respect also involved agreeing that she knew her mind better than anyone else did. If she wanted him, he wasn’t going to say no.
He wrapped his hands under that lush ass that had kept him hard for more hours than he could count and stood, bringing her up with him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs looped around his waist. He couldn’t wait one more second, even if Mrs. Mazille had somehow figured out how to peer into his back porch from down the street. He kissed Violet.
It was the opposite in every possible way from the kiss they’d shared at the auction. That kiss had been so much more than just an excuse to slip the tracker on her, but it had been laden with the ugliness of the situation. She’d been frightened, hurt, and trapped, and even though she’d known Aiden wasn’t one of the bad guys, she hadn’t truly had the ability to withhold her permission.
He had never in his life kissed or touched a woman who hadn’t given her explicit consent. His partners had not only been consensual, but enthusiastic. Except for Violet, in that situation.
She hadn’t tried to get away from him, but she hadn’t had much choice in what was happening to her at the time.
So feeling her lips latch on to his own with such passion now eased something in Aiden he hadn’t even been aware was hurting. The fear that maybe somewhere inside her mind, she would associate him with her abusers.
But not now, not here. Here the playing field was equal. They were both free to search and take and do whatever felt right and good.
And, holy Jesus, her lips felt right and good.
He held her with one arm and opened the door inside with the other. He was only a step into his living room when her lips wrapped around his tongue and began sucking. That sent his mind to other places he would like those lips wrapped around.
He slammed her back against the wall next to the door. There was no way in hell he was going to make it all the way upstairs if she kept that up.
“I hope you meant it about hard and dirty,” he said against her mouth. “Because that’s just about all I’m capable of right now.”
He thrust against her core, rubbing her through their jeans, loving the way she gasped.
“You do this to me, Firefly. You make me forget that I’ve been trained to have more self-control than ninety-nine percent of the people on the planet. Your lips, your body, your curves . . . they make me forget I even know what the word control means.” His voice was thick with the need coursing through his body.
She squirmed against him. “Yes. Oh God, yes.” Her arms and legs wrapped tighter around him.
He cupped her face, using his body to keep her pressed up against the wall, running his tongue over her bottom lip, then into her mouth as she opened for him. The noises she was making in the back of her throat were going to drive him over the edge.
He brought his hands down to her thighs and eased them from around his waist, smiling at her whimper of distress. “Just to get these clothes off, sweetheart. We both have too many clothes on.”
She nodded with grand exuberance at that plan, and he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt first, snatching it over his chest, smiling as she stared, then ran her fingers over his torso. He didn’t think much about his physique. He kept himself in shape because his job—first in the army, then at Linear—always demanded top physical form, and he regularly pushed his body hard.
But now, watching those emerald-green eyes prowl over him like she wanted to lick every inch, Aiden was damned glad for the good physical shape he maintained.
“Can we take your shirt off too?” he asked, voice much deeper than he’d intended.
Consent didn’t get much more explicit than her “Hell, yes.” She ripped her shirt off her body, and it joined his on the floor.
Now it was his turn to stare. He almost brought his hand up to his mouth to make sure he wasn’t drooling.
“You’re looking at me as if you haven’t seen me naked twice already.” She grimaced.
That was so totally different than this. So totally different than her willingly baring herself to him. “You’re so much more gorgeous without any fear.”
But there was still just the slightest bit of concern in her eyes. Not enough that she wanted to stop, but enough that he knew it was time to slow things way down.
And he trailed the finger from her cheek and down her neck to those gorgeous breasts. He smiled as he trailed the finger over one hardened nipple, then the other, watching her eyes flare with desire.
“I was thinking maybe this first time we could switch to slow and lazy. Certainly hard and dirty has its perks, but slow and lazy”—he bent down and took one breast in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the flesh until she was clutching her fingers into his hair—“has a lot more going for it, in my opinion.”
He switched over to the other breast, nipping just enough to have her gasping and jerking him closer.
“There are things I’m going to do to you that require a bed and multiple hours to do properly.”
She let out a tiny kitten mewl. It was the sexiest thing Aiden had ever heard.
He lifted his head up from her breast and leaned his forehead against hers. “Of course, if you keep making sounds like that, you’re definitely going to get
fucked right up against this wall.”
She smiled, and it was one hundred percent confident woman. “Both hard and dirty and slow and easy sound good to me.”
He smiled. This woman was going to be the death of him with her unique blend of sexy confidence and youthful shyness. “I think we might need a mix. How about slow and dirty?”
Her hips rubbing against him were once more almost his undoing. He needed to get her up to the bed or they’d never get there at all. He swung her up in his arms.
“Aiden,” she croaked in surprise. “You can’t carry me all the way upstairs. I weigh too much.”
He didn’t even try to stop his eye roll. “Watch me.” He had regularly carried more than what she weighed for miles in training exercises. “I don’t like you insinuating that you’re overweight. Unless . . . you’re insinuating that I’m just weak.” He arched a brow.
Now she rolled her eyes. “I’m not fat. I know that. But I’m not thin either. I’m at that point where you can definitely tell I’m a baker.”
He was up the stairs and laying her on the bed before he answered. He peeled her jeans down her generous hips, kissing and nipping as he went.
“First,” he whispered as he trailed kisses down her thighs, “never trust a skinny cook.”
She giggled at that, a sound he would never get tired of hearing. He dragged her jeans the rest of the way off, dropping them to the side, then reached up and slid her sky-blue panties off too.
He just stared down at her, the breath sucked out of his body.
That gorgeous auburn hair was falling from its bun all around her in beautiful disarray. Her smooth, pale skin was reddened where his unshaven jaw had rubbed against her—and where her own desire was making her blush.
Those hooded green eyes peered out at him through thick lashes. And her soft pink lips were swollen from his kisses.
And that body. He couldn’t stop staring at it. The curves. She was so soft everywhere he was hard.
“Firefly.” His voice was so guttural he almost didn’t recognize it. This woman absolutely wrecked him. It was terrifying.