STEALING IT

by Robinson, Rachel

  “This was my idea, I’ll remind you. I want to sleep where you are. I am perfectly comfortable right here.”

  He pulls me toward him and tucks me into his big spoon. I sigh, and a little more security washes over me, his bicep now tucked under my head. I close my eyes against the physical and emotional exhaustion. I’m almost asleep when Aidan speaks lowly against my ear, “I didn’t tell you the most important thing.” His tone is provocative, a luring call I can’t resist. I turn in his arms to face him.

  I kiss his lips that still taste like me. “I love you, Magnolia.”

  I grin at his proclamation. “You do?”

  “I said it didn’t I?” he replies. He kisses me once more. “I always mean what I say.”

  “I was the one who told you to love me,” I add.

  “You can’t control me, woman,” Aidan growls, taking my lip between his teeth. “I love who I want.”

  “You’ve loved many women in your past?” I pull away so I can see his gaze in the dim light.

  Aidan shakes his head. “Only you could turn this life-shattering moment for me into an inquisition.”

  “No,” I counter. “I need to know so I know how seriously I should take it.” Smiling, I run my hand through his messy hair.

  He sighs, and it’s kind of a groan. “If you flipped through my mental dictionary there would be a photo of you next to the word love. Just a photo of you.”

  Grinning, I ask, “Am I naked though? In the picture next to the definition?”

  “You’re impossible.” He controls my hea, and forces me into a passionate kiss.

  He leaves me gasping for air—dizzy with emotion. “I love you, Aidan.”

  He leans in to kiss me once more, slowly this time. I can’t tell you how much time passes before we eventually fall asleep. When I wake to the morning sun blazing in the windows, his heavy arms are still wrapped around my body. I’m hyper-aware of every place his skin meets mine and how his breaths seem to align with my own.

  I sneak my hand out of the tangled sheet to reach my phone to check I haven’t missed any calls or texts from Kendall. “Don’t think about leaving me,” Aidan says. “Weren’t we going to work out?”

  “So bossy. You know I work on the weekends,” I say. “We slept in too long, and orgasms took precedence over the workout. You can come and hang at the shop with me. I have about a dozen orders I need to get ready to ship. I’d never say no to an extra pair of hands.”

  My statement gave him other ideas. Aidan slides his warm hand down the side of my body and wedges my legs apart to work his fingers against my clit. I moan out. “Yeah, I’d never say no to these hands,” I correct, panting.

  He pulls away, dragging his fingers up my stomach. “That could be fun.”

  It takes a lot of effort, but I roll away from him. “I have to get stuff done. For real. You can’t distract me all day and anyways, I was thinking,” I say, pausing as I gaze at his huge frame barely covered by the dainty sheet. He is a walking, talking, magnificent distraction. One I’ll probably always be fussed by.

  Aidan folds his arms behind his head. “Thinking isn’t good for you.” He smirks, appraising my naked form with glee.

  “If you think it’s a good idea, maybe it’s time for you to meet Kendall? She gets back from camp tonight. We could have dinner at the house and see what kind of awkwardness ensues. Or if you’d rather not meet her, I understand that too. It’s just that I’m confident that the way I feel about you isn’t going to change anytime in the foreseeable future and if I’m gauging things right you feel pretty ardently as well?”

  “You are precisely correct, madam.”

  “Then you think this is the right thing to do? To introduce you to her? I’ve checked most of the internal boxes. I’ve met your friends, I know your backstory, you live by a moral code at least with regard to your profession. You probably have a clean background check.”

  “I’m even CPR certified and have a negative TB test on file,” Aidan quips, his smile growing, dimples popping. “I’d be honored to meet her. We can play it cool. However you want. Depending on what you’re comfortable telling her. I can be long lost Uncle Slappy, or the guy who is going to help you spruce up the house and fix the garbage disposal, I’ll be whoever you want me to be. This is all you, baby.” He bites his lip after he calls me baby, unsure if he can get away with it.

  I swing my hands on my hips and his gaze follows my movement. “Or I can be the man who spends the night and makes her mom scream all night long.” He rolls over to his side and props his head on his hand, waiting for my response like an excited schoolboy.

  “I’m not even going to dignify that inappropriateness with a response, Mixx.”

  I find myself checking him out even as I take steps backward toward his bedroom where my clothing is somewhere on the floor. He knows what he does to me. It’s evident in the way he uses his muscles to sit up. An offense of abs I’ll call it. My throat clogs and I take another step, quicker this time. “Careful, Magnolia. You’re liable to trip and fall directly on my cock. Wouldn’t want that when you have so much to do today. Would we?”

  I turn around then, and bolt for his bedroom and close the door against his low, manly chuckling. I’m losing my mind. It’s the only explanation. Even as my subconscious feeds me another, more logical reason I’m acting like a completely feral woman. Never, not once in the years I was married to Paul did I feel this draw—crave to be connected to a man like this. Last night Aidan bared his soul, gave me horrifying details that provided answers about his personality. And his life choices. The mothering instinct in me wants to help him reconnect with his family, but logic dictates his family doesn’t deserve to glimpse his face ever again. I’d also like to keep him as my own for the rest of time. Let’s not forget that selfish fact.

  I tap my pointer finger on the door repeatedly. “Maybe just a quickie,” I whisper to myself. “I am already wet,” I reason like it’s an everyday problem I’m trying to solve, instead of fighting against my own will. What would it hurt to be five minutes more? Slowly, I unlock the door and push it open, all resolve lost somewhere. Aidan is standing there, his massive naked frame propped against the wall, a sardonic grin plastered on his face. It’s disconcerting how cool and collected he seems at any given time. More so now that I know what he’s hiding, and how much he’s confided in me. It’s still there, that stoic, alpha presence that makes me weak in the knees. Is that the product of hormones…or love?

  “Ready to fall on my dick?” he growls.

  I blow out a long, defeated breath. “We have to be fast.” I look at my cell phone to check the time and then set it down on the table next to the door. “Condom?” I ask. His gaze meets mine and I see the decision written on his expression.

  Aidan stalks toward me, erection bobbing as he takes me into his burly arms. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “You okay if we don’t use a condom?”

  I nod, biting my lip. “Yes.” It will be the first time we haven’t used one and it makes my head swim.

  “Okay, well you need to be fast.” His hand slides between my legs. When he finds wetness, he dips down, picks me up, and thrusts his dick inside while turning so my back presses the wall. I let out a loud squeal when he slides in and out of me. Aidan lays his forehead against mine and it only takes a few minutes before we’re both slick with sweat and on the brink of orgasm—his throaty growls of pleasure pushing me closer to the brink.

  Skin slaps and his hands dig into my ass as he groans against my neck. I hold my breath as the pleasure rolls inside me, my whole body tensing at the peak. Collapsing in his arms, I’m no adversary for his thrusts, but it’s only a few more pumps before he jerks, cum funneling deep within my body. He always comes after me. Always.

  “How do you come at the right time, every time?” I breathe, leaning off his shoulder, to brush his tousled brown hair off his face. “It’s unnerving.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  I quirk a br
ow. “I love it. Just didn’t know it was a thing. That men had control of the when.”

  He chuckles, and his face is devastatingly handsome. His eyes are clear, and that freaking smile is so genuine it hurts. “I’ve told you everything else anyway, might as well tell you the truth.”

  “That bad?” I pry. Aidan’s gaze is locked on my mouth

  He licks his lips. “No, I just think about not coming. It takes every single cell in my body to join in the effort to not come. Sometimes I pray you come. That’s why, when I told you to tell me what you like, it’s actually for me.” A blush crosses his cheeks. “That was the single most amazing feeling in the world, by the way. We can never use a condom again.”

  “Selfish, Aidan Mixx,” I counter, my mouth open in mock outrage.

  “But I do have your best interests at heart. Don’t forget that.” He sighs. “I don’t want to let you leave. I want to stay inside you all day.”

  My eyes flutter closed as I concentrate on our joined bodies. I flex my core, and he jerks one more time inside of me. “I’d like that,” I whisper. He trails a kiss along my dewy neck and ends at the bottom of my ear. “I’d like that very much. But…”

  He cuts off the rest of my sentence with a kiss as he grinds his pelvis against my clit. It’s at least thirty seconds of agonizing bliss, knowing it’s the end and I have to leave the throes of our perfect night. When Aidan pulls away from the kiss, he pulls his cock out of my body and lets me slide back down to my feet, panting, gazing at him like a wild animal seeking prey. I want more of him. The need is carnal. His eyes are narrowed and his brow furrows as his chest rises and falls up and down. His appearance mirrors my emotions exactly. Down to breaths—his tendons and muscles contracting and flexing, gaze flicking over every inch of my body like a territorial animal.

  “You have to go,” he says, voice cracking as he finishes my sentence.

  “I do,” I say.

  “Then go,” Aidan says, opening his arms wide, an invitation to disobey his half-hearted order.

  I steady myself by pushing off the wall. “Come with me,” I reply, taking tentative steps toward his bedroom. He’s still looking at me, like that, and I still desire him in every single way imaginable. “Please,” I test.

  He smiles, shaking his head. “As if I have an option at this point.”

  _______________

  He picked me up from middle school every Wednesday. When I was eleven, I remember speed walking through the open air corridor toward the front of the school, excitement coursing through my body because it was the end of the school day and because my grandpa would be waiting. He was always the first in the pick-up line, leaning against the side of his burnt orange pick-up truck with a cap on, his passenger side door open—waiting for me. It was the equivalent of a red-carpet welcome, and it made my heart squeeze with love every single week. Grandpa’s face would split into a beatific smile the second I rounded the corner. I never had to guess, I knew, that picking me up from school was the very best part of his day. Do you know what that feels like? To be somebody’s best part?

  After he’d smile, he’d open his arms and say, “There’s my squeaky-mo! How was your day, kiddo?” I’d hug him from the side, around his big ole belly, and he’d kiss the top of my head as I told him about my day. Grandpa said I squeaked instead of cried when I was a newborn and he called me that nickname every day. I liked it. It was only mine.

  I’d climb into the cab of his truck, and he’d close the door behind me. I’ll always remember the scent. The antique polish, and the dusty smell of old things. The back of his truck was always filled with antiques of every shape and size. I’d ask if he found any treasures while he was at yard sales and the flea market, and Grandpa would tell me, in detail, about every “super find” he purchased. I listened, intent on every single word because if he derived that much happiness from his treasures I wanted to learn all I could. As he spoke, he waved at the kids as we passed them walking from school, and he smiled so big and so wide that it made me happy being in his proximity.

  When I was eleven I didn’t care, would never think to be embarrassed by his funny words or open affection. His bad heart made sure he didn’t live long enough for that to happen, and a lot of the time I’m happy about that. What would his face look like when he picked up the angry teenaged version of me and my face was pointed at the ground, cheeks red. How would he take it when he found out the best part of his day was the worst part of mine? What would he think of all the time I spent ignoring my passion? The devastation of my marriage crumbling would have killed him. The memory of what could have been chokes me as I check out an older gentleman, taking care to wrap the ceramic carefully with newspaper.

  “She’s going to love this,” I reaffirm.

  He smiles, exposing a section of gums. “Surely she will. I thank ya, Miss Magnolia. You always have the treasures I’m huntin’.”

  I thank him for stopping in and link my arm in his to walk him to the door. I watch his back as he hobbles down the street to the nearby florist, and I think of my grandpa some more, wistful, happy, that I’ve finally built something out of our shared love for antiques. Finally have a life I love even if it took the whole thing falling apart first.

  Aidan clears his throat from behind me. “My competition is looking a little decrepit,” he says, striding from the back room where I had him packaging online orders. It was a killer week, and business is picking up as it always does this time of year.

  “He was buying a gift for his wife,” I deadpan. “I’m not into the elderly, although you might fit into that category. Geezer.”

  He presses his lips together. “Was that a burn? Did you just try to zing one on me?” He raises one brow and my stomach flutters. “Am I bringing you to the dark side? Is it fun?”

  I roll my eyes—an attempt at outward dismissal. Everything internally loves when he acts cocky and sarcastic. “Are you finished with the orders?” I change the subject.

  “I’ve been finished. What else do you have for me?” he asks. “Maybe something wet?”

  Shaking my head, I look around, and realize the store is clean, everything is ready to be shipped, and I’ve begun plans for the shop window display for Christmas. Aidan helped a bit and he’s already told me he wants credit for his design skills. “I think it might be time to wrap it up. I’m going to pick up Kendall from school and you could swing by for dinner in a few hours? If you’re still up for it?”

  He folds his arms across his burly chest. “Up for it? When have I never been up for something.”

  “Oh my gosh! Stop joking about this. This is a big thing, Aidan.” Spinning away, I bolt the door and flip the sign to Closed. His hands encompass my waist before I can turn.

  He leans down and whispers into my ear, “I know it’s serious. I’m sorry. It’s hard being this close to you when we’re alone.”

  He smells like the back room. Like polish and dust. Like memories. Tilting my chin up, I meet his devilish gaze. “What’s your best part of the day? The very best part of every day?”

  Aidan pulls away but keeps me locked in his arms, his face contemplative. “It’s different depending on the day,” he replies.

  “Tell me what you mean.”

  Clearing his throat, his eyes dart to the window behind my head. “In San Diego, the best part of my day was anytime I was out on the water, the shoreline in my peripheral, the ocean to the other side, the temperature is always perfect. Not too hot or too cold. It was…the best.” Aidan pauses and meets my eyes. “The best part of my day when I’m deployed is when I’m not on. When I can take off the gear, strip down to my underwear, and be free. When I can wipe it all clean. That’s the best part of my day. The emptiness.”

  I can’t help myself. The energy of truth feels like a drug. I need more. More of his thoughts and feelings. “What about here? What’s the best part of your day here? In Bronze Bay?”

  Aidan raises one brow and nods. “Sunrise on the water. I can see it so muc
h better here. I didn’t live on the water when I lived in San Diego. I just worked at the beach. Why do you want to know?”

  Biting my lip, I tip my head to the side. “I think it’s important. That’s all.” Hesitating a few seconds, I tell him a bit about my Grandpa.

  He nods, eyes smiling. Aidan seems happy when I open up. I think he must feel relieved there are other pieces of me that Paul hasn’t scarred and blazed to the ground. He leans down and kisses me, then dips me back even further as he deepens the kiss. I giggle against his mouth. I’m breathless and can still taste him on my tongue when I pull away.

  “Can I bring anything tonight?”

  “Just your bravery and common sense.”

  He scoffs. “As if you had to tell me that.” He flexes a bicep.

  I roll my eyes, but can’t deny my core clenches as I admire him. I lead him to the back door and lock the door behind us, the blinding heat hitting us like a brick.

  When I get to my car, I turn to say, “Hey Aidan.”

  He grins in reply.

  “This was the best part of my day.”

  He grins wider. The smile that makes my stomach flip. “Day’s not over yet, Magnolia.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aidan

  I KNOCK THE WALL in Magnolia’s living room with the side of my fist. “These walls seem pretty sturdy,” I say, gaze flicking to Magnolia. Kendall is sitting on the sofa scrolling on her phone. Dinner was quiet, her daughter only speaking when her mother prompted her to respond.

  Magnolia’s neck works as she swallows. I let my grin spread wider. “They are, but it will be easy to open up the one in the upstairs hallway to get to the electrical.” I’m under the guise of a repairman, and a friend. Magnolia choked when introducing me to Kendall and I helpfully supplied the profession. I know this has to be hard for her. Difficult in the way that anything is when you don’t have any experience with it. I’m in it for the long haul so I’m willing to take baby steps even if it makes my chest hurt not being able to touch her. “You’re sure that’s where the electrical is for the ceiling fan, down here?”