Chapter 9
Later, after bowling and drinks and dancing at Glitz because Ronni had mentioned missing it last week, Vanna walked into her house recalling Aden’s words about not missing another shot with her.
“You sure about this?” he asked from behind her as he closed the door.
She turned to him and took a deep breath before replying, “Remember I told you tomorrow’s not promised?”
“I do.” He remained where he was and folded his arms over his chest. “And I agree. I’m just trying to be certain the three mojitos you had at the club weren’t making decisions for you.”
She closed the distance between them and reached out to push the hem of his hoodie up enough so that she could grasp the elastic band of the joggers he wore.
“First, I’m no lightweight—literally or figuratively. I can hold my liquor.” And because she’d already learned, when she’d tripped coming out of the club and he’d easily wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, that Aden was a lot stronger than his athletically built body portrayed, she didn’t attempt to pull him to her. Instead, she took the final step, which had his folded arms pressing against her breasts and his growing arousal to her belly. “And second, I’ve never been an indecisive person. When I want something, I go get it.”
He let his arms fall down to his sides, slowly enough that the backs of his fingers brushed over her nipples, and she sucked in a breath.
“Earlier today you and your friend wanted to know what my intentions were toward you. Why I was back here after all this time. Now you’re ready to, what? Take me to bed because your body says that’s what you want?” he asked.
“Exactly,” she replied. “And look, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. We’re both consenting adults. I’m assuming you don’t have a wife or girlfriend that would make this an absolute no. So, unless your real reason for standing in my foyer instead of following me upstairs to my bedroom is that you don’t want me, I’ll lead the way.”
She stared at him, pulled her lower lip between her teeth, then smiled as she turned away and headed up the steps. But he grabbed the wrist of the hand that was just about to release his joggers and held her still.
“Wanting you has been an affliction for me since that day in the park,” he said. “But I’m not interested in being a Band-Aid or an itch you need to scratch.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Really, Aden, the door is right behind you. It’s been a long night—hell, it’s been a long two weeks. I’m going to bed.”
This time when she tried to move away, he laced an arm around her waist while still holding her wrist in his other hand. Then, in a few steps, he turned her to the left and walked them back until her ass brushed the wall beside the table that held her keys and purse. “You should know before another minute ticks by that I stand on my business too. I know what I want from you and with you, what I’ve wanted for a very long time. So when I ask you to be sure, I mean I want you to be sure you’re ready for this.”
The edge to his words, the bass in his tone, the simmering heat in his eyes, kept her body still and sent her hormones soaring. When she’d planned this bowling event, she never would’ve imagined it could end this way—not even when he’d invited himself to come along. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again, and if she were being totally honest, she was still reeling from the funeral, his appearance, her arrest, all that dramatic shit that should’ve had her teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
But none of that seemed to matter in this moment, nor did the point she suspected he was trying to make. All Vanna wanted was a blissful sexual release. She wanted ... no, needed it, like an addict needed whatever it was that they craved. And dammit, it was her FFSF month, so she was gonna get it!
“I hear you, Aden,” she replied. “Now, are we going upstairs, or are you leaving?”
He didn’t leave, and moments later they were walking into her bedroom. She went straight to her bed to sit and untie the tennis shoes she’d worn with her jeans and white bodysuit. She had just set them to the side when she felt his presence more than saw him. When she’d come into the room, she’d known he was right behind her, but he’d stopped in the doorway to look around. Now, as she sat up, it was to see that he’d crossed the room and was standing directly in front of her.
“Stand up,” he told her, and again, there was something about the deepness in his tone. It was different from his usual voice, tinged with just a hint of dominance that she had to admit turned her all the way on. So she stood.
His arm was around her waist again, but this time he didn’t stop there. With that one arm, he pulled her into him, his hand snaking down beneath the band of her jeans to rub directly over the bodysuit she wore. With his other hand, he cupped her cheek and whispered, “Savannah,” before his lips touched hers.
It couldn’t exactly be described as a touch—it was so brief that maybe it was more of a brush—but he didn’t even give her the time to figure it out. His tongue was extended in the next second, licking her bottom, then her top, lip, then pressing between them both to take her mouth in a deep, tumultuous assault that had every nerve in her body standing at attention. Arousal had already been brewing just beneath the surface for her all night. Aden was fine, he smelled good, he had his own money, he got along with her friends, he’d paid for her lawyer. Check. Check. Check. Check! He’d checked every damn box she could’ve imagined if she were the type to have a checklist for the kind of man who turned her on. Of course, she’d never been that type, but he was fitting the bill, and if he kept kissing her like he was, he would have her ringing the bell to satisfaction in no time.
When he finally tore his mouth away from hers to drag wet kisses down her neck, she panted and whispered, “Um, I was ... I was gonna ... ahhhh ... take a quick shower.”
His hand moved from her cheek to lightly grip her neck now as he kissed the swells of her breasts just above the neckline of the bodysuit. “Mmmm-hmmmm,” he moaned. “Let’s take that shower.”
It was hot and soapy and as erotic as people loved to imagine a shower with a sexy man should be, but it was what happened after the shower that Vanna was certain she’d never forget. The moment he’d gently pushed her still-damp body onto her bed and watched her with a sexy grin as he sheathed himself with a condom. Her knees were pushed back until they were near her face, and she was panting his name before he was fully buried inside her. If her FFSF celebration were to end here tonight, she would declare this as the best birthday present ever!
“I talked to Caleb when I first came back to town,” Aden said after their second shower.
Vanna lay on her back, wearing a pair of her favorite night shorts and tank top, with him right beside her in his boxers. It was almost three in the morning, and she felt like she was floating on a cloud. Her goal had been sexual satisfaction, but Aden had been an amazing overachiever. She probably should’ve suspected that from his swagger and confidence, but she was more than happy to have found out from firsthand experience.
“So he knew you were here,” she said, and continued to stare up at the ceiling. “I guess he wouldn’t have told me, since we were separated.” And she was sure Caleb had no clue about the times when they were in school and she’d stared at Aden a little too long. Hell, Aden probably didn’t even know that.
“We hung out a few times. And a few of the brothers were planning a trip out to Sedona for a week around Thanksgiving. Caleb was excited for the trip,” he said.
“He loved to travel,” she said absently, and wondered how abnormal it was that her husband was the topic of their after-sex discussion.
“I almost told him that I wanted you,” he said, and her head jerked in his direction.
“You what?” They’d forgotten to turn off the light in the bathroom, so the golden hue partially illuminated the otherwise dark bedroom.
He was lying on his side, an arm tucked under his head as he stared at her.
“Back in college, about a month or so after he started dating you. He was bragging about how good things were going and about how you might be the one, and I was getting so pissed with him. I almost shouted that I’d seen you first and that you should be mine.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Hearing it now, all these years later, she was torn between whether to think it was creepy-obsessive or endearing because his crush on her had been reciprocated. She just wasn’t being as open with him about it as he was with her. No way was she putting herself out there for this man, whom she’d technically known for twenty years but at the same time had only really known intimately for about two hours.
“Seeing me first didn’t mean anything,” she replied.
His mouth curved into a small smile. “You don’t believe that,” he said. “I knew you still felt it too. Whenever we were in a room together, I felt your gaze on me. When I was trying desperately not to look at you, not to want to touch you, to talk only to you—hell, to take your ass out of whatever room we were in and go someplace so we could be alone.” He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek.
“It was wrong to look at you like that,” she said.
He sighed. “I saw you first.”
She grinned and turned over onto her side so she could face him. “You’re just gonna keep saying that, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “’Cause it’s true. And if I hadn’t been tongue-tied and afraid I might just pass out and make a complete idiot of myself, I would’ve claimed you right then.”
“Nobody claims me,” she said. “I only go willingly.”
He let his finger glide down her neck to trail along the breast that had escaped the confines of the tank top. One thing was for certain: after being trapped inside a bra for more than eight hours, when her girls were finally let loose, they had a mind of their own.
“I mean, we could go another round to prove my point, but I’m pretty sure during the last round, you were already admitting to being all mine,” he said, then licked his lips.
She swatted playfully at his shoulder but didn’t make any move to stop the tiny circles his fingers were making on her breast. “Sex talk doesn’t count.”
He paused then and stared at her. She wanted to look away. To say she was thirsty and get the hell out of that room for just a few minutes because his gaze was making her uncomfortable. Not like she wanted him to leave right this moment uncomfortable, but definitely like she was rethinking some of the things she’d said since being reunited with him.
“If you knew Caleb and I weren’t together, why didn’t you let me know when you came back to town?” she asked.
“I was determined to get my gym opened, find a house, do research and development for my supplements. It took a lot of my time.”
“Oh,” she said, and started to move so she could lie on her back again. Staring into his dark eyes was starting to be too intense.
But he moved his hand from her breast and had both his arms around her waist before she could make it. He pulled her to him until almost every part of his body was touching some part of hers. “When I’m with a woman, I like to give her as much of my attention as I possibly can,” he said, his face so close to hers that his breath was warm against her cheek.
“All those years you were away, I know you weren’t thinking about me. Or still wanting me. You had to date other women.” Her mind seemed to be all over the place, rattling off some of the things she’d meant to say last night.
He paused for a second, and she wondered if he might actually pull away or perhaps decline to answer. He did neither.
“I had girlfriends, Savannah. Just like I did when we were in college. But I never forgot about you. Never stopped wondering what if.”
She sighed, recalling having been caught up in that what if question earlier yesterday.
“How do you know I wasn’t already with someone else?” Obviously, this question was a bit too little, too late, but she wanted to know what he’d been thinking all these years, what he was thinking now.
“I didn’t when you were at the funeral,” he said, and kissed the tip of her nose. “But you definitely would’ve been more resistant to me paying for your lawyer if you had a man, and you certainly wouldn’t have gone out for coffee with me.” He kissed her cheek.
“If I had a man, he wouldn’t dictate which gifts I accept or who I can have coffee with,” she replied, and eased an arm around his neck.
He kissed her other cheek, then her forehead, then back down to drop another kiss on the tip of her nose. “You didn’t pick the right man, Savannah,” he whispered, then touched his lips to hers.
“You did what with your mouth?” Ronni practically screamed when they took their seats in the alto section of the choir on Sunday.
They’d just marched around for the offering, and in a few minutes would be singing the sermonic selection, but Jamaica had to finish telling them about her night with Davon.
Vanna smacked Ronni’s arm. “Girl, you too loud,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are,” Linda, who thought she was the best singer on the choir, said and rolled her eyes.
Jamaica, sitting on Vanna’s left side, leaned forward to give Linda, who was on the other side of Ronni, a stank look. With her lips twisted and another roll of her eyes, Linda set her gaze forward.
“Yeah, that’s what you betta do,” Jamaica whispered.
Vanna sighed and wished she were anywhere besides trapped between them as they faced the entire church.
“Anyway,” Jamaica started, but Vanna shook her head.
“No, let’s not finish that story,” she said.
“Fine,” Jamaica said. “Y’all know how me and Davon get down, anyway. Let’s talk about you and Aden. ’Cause I know you gave him some last night.”
“You don’t know anything,” Vanna argued, but her thighs were pleasantly sore, and if she hadn’t worn the high-neck sleeveless white blouse with her black skirt today, everyone would’ve easily seen the passion marks he’d left on her chest. There were more on her breasts and thighs, but they wouldn’t be seeing those either.
“I know you were smiling when you came in this morning, and you’ve been checking your messages and smiling at that phone every second we haven’t been singing,” Jamaica said.
Ronni leaned over and said, “Yup, she sure has.” She gave Jamaica a low five, since not only were they not supposed to be talking about sex while sitting with the choir in Sunday worship service, they certainly weren’t supposed to be having such a good time doing so.
“Y’all act like we’re in high school,” Vanna said with a shake of her head.
“Nah, we’re much better at it now than we were in high school,” Ronni said.
Jamaica chuckled. “You certainly are, with the baby factory you’ve got at your house.”
Vanna was grateful when the choir director had them stand and they began singing. She let herself fall into the lyrics of the song, to let those lyrics minister to her in a way that only good gospel could. Tomorrow would be here soon enough, and no matter how good last night—and three times this morning before Aden had finally, reluctantly, left her house—was, she couldn’t shake the trepidation.
Was the lawyer going to tell her there was no chance and she was definitely going to prison for something she didn’t do? Or was there a way out of this mess? A mess she still wasn’t clear on how she’d become involved in. But, honestly, she’d much rather Jamaica and Ronni continue their banter about her sex life and their sex lives, instead of either of them worrying about her and this new situation. She would handle whatever it turned out to be, the same way she handled everything else—with strength and faith.