by Janie Crouch
He kept himself completely still, holding most of his weight off of her on his elbows, murmuring to her softly. Eventually she came back to him.
“Hey there, Firefly.”
“Aiden?”
“Just me. We’re in the self-defense class, remember?”
She nodded. “I freaked out.”
His breath flew out in a rush. He was just glad to get her back. “You were fine when I was lying on top of you and we were face-to-face. What changed?”
“Randy,” she finally got the word out. “The night I met you. He told me he was taking me out of the dark room, and I tried to run. He lay on top of me and . . . rubbed himself against me.”
Aiden wished Randy were still alive so he could kill the son of a bitch with something much slower and more painful than a bullet to the head.
“It’s stupid, right?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “I mean he still had his clothes on, and there was so much worse that could’ve happened, that did happen. Why would the memory of some jerk dry humping me throw me into a panic?”
“There’s no right or wrong in recovery,” he was quick to tell her. “Your mind latches on to whatever it latches on to. You just fight one bad guy at a time.”
Charlie had said that to him once, when he was distraught about not being able to get Violet out. It was fitting that he’d be able to share the same wisdom now.
He kissed the side of her head. “So how about we make sure you know how to get out of a situation like this so no one can ever trap you this way again?”
“Yes.” Her voice was small, but clear.
“I’m going to drop my weight on you, okay?” Slowly he lowered his weight until he covered her legs and hips.
She stiffened, fighting panic, and Aiden held himself still. “It’s me. Just me.”
Eventually she relaxed enough that he knew she’d been able to take in his instructions. He went over the moves slowly, concisely, and consistently, keeping his tone brisk and instructional.
The first escape option she understood and embraced: twisting with her torso and cracking her attacker in the temple with her elbow. The second option was much less intuitive and went against what her mind wanted her to do.
It required her to actually move her hips up toward her attacker, leaving her momentarily more vulnerable, then flipping around and throwing his weight off of her.
They practiced both ways over and over. Aiden didn’t go easy on her, because a would-be rapist wouldn’t go easy on her either. She had to be able to defend herself from a full-fledged attack.
By the time they’d finished forty-five minutes later, they were both exhausted. Aiden had the start of a black eye from where she’d gotten in a great hit, and they were both wrung out emotionally.
Gavin had kept his class outside since it was a gorgeous day. Violet was too exhausted—physically and emotionally—to participate in the rest of the class, so Aiden sat against a tree with her in his lap, and they just watched.
For a first date, it had been a little rough, but it had also connected them in ways neither had really been anticipating.
The rest of their dates had been much more traditional, and much less emotionally depleting. Like he’d promised, picnics and dinners. He’d even borrowed Zac’s Harley and taken her out for a nice, long ride.
On the motorcycle too.
Aiden rolled his eyes at himself. Now who was thinking like a twenty-two-year-old?
Tonight he was going all out, taking Violet into Reddington City to see the symphony orchestra play the music of John Williams. He’d rented a limo and everything for the thirty-mile ride into the city.
Orchestras hadn’t really ever been Aiden’s thing until Gavin had dragged the entire team to L’Escolania Choir in Montserrat, when they’d been stationed in Spain. Aiden hadn’t been aware music could be that beautiful. From then on, he’d found himself attending as many symphonies and professional choral performances as he could.
He wasn’t surprised that Violet was eager to attend the symphony with him, especially when she started talking about the tie between music and math and how it was all combined. She may be a baker by passion, but her brain was always going to be analytically inclined.
Smart was fucking sexy. And she was definitely the smartest person he knew.
Chapter 19
Dinner had been delicious. The symphony had been magnificent. Riding in the limo was just damn fun.
But the fact that Aiden had planned it all and made the night—just a normal Saturday night—so special was what awed her most of all.
“What?” He laughed and patted his cheeks self-consciously as she stared at him after the standing ovation for the orchestra. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?”
“This whole night has been amazing. You’re amazing.” And she needed to stop saying that word, but it was all she could seem to get out of herself.
She was falling in love with him.
She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course, because he wasn’t going to accept it as fact. He was just going to think it was another residual part of her kidnapping. White knight syndrome or whatever. Plus, she had no idea how he felt about their whole relationship, or whatever it was.
As he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight against his side, her concerns calmed. She didn’t need to have all the answers right now. She would just take each day as it came.
“I’m glad you liked it,” he said against her temple.
They walked out, and Aiden told her he would call for the car while she excused herself to use the restroom. When she came back out she didn’t see him immediately, so she walked toward the giant windows that overlooked a tiny park complete with paths and a lovely fountain in the middle.
The streetlights gave her just enough visibility to watch the people leaving the auditorium, huddled in their wraps and jackets against the brisk, early November night. They scattered in all directions, some toward the parking deck, others across the wide paths, none stopping to enjoy the beautiful fountain in the center.
And that’s when she saw him. Dillon. One of the men who had kept her imprisoned in that house. He was standing against one of the decorative street lamps, arms crossed, looking directly up at her.
Terror closed her throat, making it impossible to breathe. He was just leaning there, casually looking at her.
Why was he here? Both Gabe and Aiden had assured her that Stellman wasn’t getting out of prison anytime soon. Was Dillon still working for him? Was this just some sort of sick coincidence?
“There you are.” She startled at Aiden’s voice in her ear. “The car is pulling up at the side now. Are you ready?”
She turned to point out Dillon, but when she looked to where he’d been standing, he was gone.
“I . . .” She rubbed her forehead and looked all around. People were still walking, but it wasn’t so crowded that it was difficult to spot someone.
Had that really been Dillon? Why would he be showing up now weeks after her kidnapping?
She had worked with the FBI and Omega Sector to try to identify Dillon, but, despite her descriptions, they hadn’t been able to ID him. He didn’t match anyone in their bad-guy database or any descriptions of criminals or terrorists on their wanted list.
And since he was just a henchman, they hadn’t concentrated too much on him.
“You okay, Firefly? You’re looking a little stressed.”
She gave Aiden a smile. She wasn’t going to let a ghost ruin this wonderful evening. “Just let my imagination get the best of me for a minute. I’m fine.”
Those hazel eyes immediately turned serious. “Who? What scared you?”
She could almost see his warrior side take over. Not that it was ever far, but now his awareness and instincts were especially heightened. He turned and looked out the window.
She touched his arm. “Dillon. One of the guys who kept me in the house. But it wasn’t him—there’s nobody out there
. I just got a little spooked.”
He was still looking out the window, searching, just in case. She reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling Aiden’s face to hers.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. There’s no way Dillon would’ve known I was going to be here.” She refused to let it ruin this wonderful night. “It was just someone who looked like him, and my mind ran away with me.”
He glanced once more out the window before nodding. “Okay. You’re probably right.” He led her toward the door but stopped to type a text before going outside.
“Please tell me you’re not calling in the cavalry. I promise it was just my imagination.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m not, but I want to make sure there’s nothing we need to know.”
Evidently a few seconds later, he got whatever information he wanted, because his hand returned to her back and he ushered her out the door. “No change in Stellman’s status. Still in prison, no visitors, nothing suspicious.”
She relaxed into Aiden. No danger, just her subconscious playing tricks on her. Annoying, but at least it was nothing to be worried about.
As he escorted her back into the fancy limo, his phone chirped wildly. He rolled his eyes, responded, and then flipped it to silent.
“Sounds like some sort of emergency.”
“Nope. Just your brother sharing his perfect opinion about us being out on a date. I probably shouldn’t have texted him to ask about Stellman, but I knew he would have the most up-to-date info.” He rolled his eyes.
“Oh boy. What did you say to him before turning off your phone?”
“In essence, to mind his own business.”
“In essence?”
He turned his phone around so she could see his text to Gabe.
Remember when I asked for your opinion? Yeah, me neither.
“I’ll bet Gabe loved that.” She laughed out loud and reached over to turn her phone to silent too. As soon as Aiden didn’t respond, her brother would start in on her.
Aiden leaned back in the seat, obviously not concerned with Gabe’s opinion of their dating life, and stretched his legs out in front of him. Violet looked from him up at the glass separating them from the driver, currently rolled halfway down.
“Can that be darkened for privacy?” she asked. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He hit a button and the glass darkened and slid up. Aiden’s eyes bored into hers, full of concern. “The driver can probably still hear us if we talk much above a whisper, so if it’s something really private or important to say, we ought to wait until we get home.”
“This can’t wait until we get home.”
He moved in closer. “What? Tell me.”
So serious. Soldier mode. It was her own fault with the seeing-Dillon scare. But it was sexy.
She pressed her lips close to his ear. “I’m ready for the hard and dirty now.”
The tension shifting in him was almost tangible. He was no longer preparing to ward off some sort of threat, but her words definitely hadn’t caused him to relax at all.
His hand slid into her hair and pulled her head back until they were face-to-face. “Right now, in the limo?”
She flipped herself around so she was straddling him on the seat then reached into her purse and pulled out a condom, fanning it back and forth between them. “I brought this in hopes that there really would be privacy glass.”
His breath left his lips in a hiss. “You’re being quite the naughty girl, Ms. Collingwood.
She grinned. “But a very prepared one.”
She pulled the long skirt of her silk dress up until it gathered around her hips and spread out around their legs, covering them. She ran her fingers through his thick brown hair and brought her mouth close to his ear again.
“I’m even more prepared than you think. I haven’t been wearing any panties under this dress all night.”
She loved the sound of his groan. She loved it even more when both his hands slid up her thighs to check for the missing article of clothing himself. Then she was the one groaning.
She couldn’t stop her hips from jerking against him as his fingers slid along her slit, the shallow caress agonizing in its gentleness.
“So wet,” he whispered, streaks of heat spiraling though her as his thumb began to strum across her clit. “But I think we’re going to save that condom for when we get back home, and I bend you over my kitchen table as soon as we get in the door.”
His words just made her want him even more, and he chuckled as she began to work herself against his hand.
“You’re so goddamned sexy on my lap like this in your beautiful dress.” His thumb flicked over the bundle of nerve endings she so desperately wanted him to grind against. He worked one finger deeper inside her, then two.
“Aiden.” She couldn’t help the low plea as he took her higher without getting her anywhere near the edge. She was clawing at his shoulders now, riding his fingers.
“That’s right, Firefly.” He twisted his fingers, and she gasped, eyes rolling back in her head. Every movement of her hips now brushed his fingertips against that place inside her that cranked hot straight into inferno.
She felt his lips hard against her neck as she threw her head back and ground down against his hand, trying to keep quiet. She could feel the fluttering start of an orgasm.
And then he stopped. He slid his fingers away from that spot, took his thumb off her aching clit, and held her hip with his other arm so she couldn’t thrust against him.
“Hey!” Her breath was coming in pants.
His smile was wicked. “We’ve got a while until we get home. Didn’t want things to be over too quickly.”
She glared at him until his hand on her hip slid up to her hair. He fisted a handful and forced her mouth down to take possession of it. Her eyes slid closed as his tongue stroked long and deep against hers, mimicking the same strokes his fingers had just made.
Damn, the man knew how to kiss. And other things.
It wasn’t long before his fingers worked their way inside her again, matching the pace and rhythm of his tongue in her mouth. Instinct took over, her legs sprawling open farther, hips moving of their own volition against him. She gasped his name as need spiraled inside her, threatening to take over.
And then he stopped again. Stopped kissing her. Stopped the movement of his fingers inside her. Held her—even as she squirmed, trying to get the last little bit of friction that would throw her over the edge—until the orgasm dancing so happily in front of her slid away.
Her eyes flew open. Even breathing was painful she was so turned on. She gripped his hair in her hands and yanked his head back, no gentleness left in her, so her forehead—just as overheated as the rest of her body—rested against his.
“Enough.” She didn’t even try to keep her voice in a whisper now. “I’ll take Charlie up on her offer to help me hide your body where it will never be found if you don’t—”
A dirty grin lit those hazel eyes, but there was sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t unaffected by this. “Don’t forget to keep quiet, sweetheart,” he said against her mouth.
And then there was no more teasing. His fingers thrust against that spot inside her once more, rubbing that patch over and over again. His thumb on her clit sent her the rest of the way over as she jerked almost violently against him.
Her control shattered, and she tucked her head against his neck, gasping, as colors flashed behind her eyes, sensations exploding throughout her body. He continued to work her with his clever fingers, dragging out the orgasm until she was chanting his name into his neck over and over. Finally, she melted against his chest as he slowed his movements.
He held her against him in his lap for the rest of the ride home. She couldn’t find the brainpower or willpower to do anything but just rest in his arms.
“You’re so damn smart,” he whispered against her hair as his hand trailed up and down her spine. “I always love to talk to you because that brain
of yours is flying a million miles a minute, and you process everything twice as fast as everyone else around you.”
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and snuggled her closer. “That’s what makes having you like this, when you can’t even figure out how to make a full coherent sentence, even more amazing.”
“Hmmm.” She wanted to argue, to tell him that she could make a coherent sentence. But finding the words was just too much effort. And she loved having her brain turned off for a while so all she could do was feel.
There was no place she’d rather be.
Chapter 20
A few days later, Aiden had his arm tucked around Violet, walking over from the bakery to New Brother’s Pizza to meet some of the gang for dinner. It was Thursday afternoon, the day each week that Violet had decided to close early.
Aiden had tried to talk her into skipping dinner and coming straight to his house—even bringing up the memory of last weekend. As promised, he’d had her bent over his kitchen table about five seconds after the front door had closed behind them, her condom and lack of undergarments making sliding inside of her tight heat much quicker.
The thought of it had made Aiden ache all week for a repeat. But he was flexible; it didn’t have to be on the table. He’d be more than happy to bend her over the arm of his overstuffed sofa or the stairs or anywhere she’d let him.
Only after he’d kissed her thoroughly—and forced out her breathless promise to allow him to take her against his choice of surface tonight—did he let her out of her apartment to walk toward the restaurant.
Violet didn’t want to stand up her friends, particularly Peyton Ward. The young, single mom worked part-time at Linear cleaning their office and equipment, part-time cleaning houses around town, and evidently now part-time at Fancy Pants too.
The woman always looked exhausted, even before she’d added this new job. But if Peyton and her vivacious four-year-old daughter, Jessie, would stop in for a minute for pizza, he’d be more than happy to buy one for her. Peyton and Jessie rarely went out.