Chapter 8 #2
His thumb traces the curve of my cheekbone, and my breath catches in my throat. “Because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
The confession sends heat spiraling through me. This is the crack I’ve been waiting for, the first honest admission of what simmers beneath his control.
I turn my face into his palm, breathing in his pheromones where they concentrate at his wrist. “When did I ever ask you to stop?”
The air shudders from his lungs as his other hand slides from my wrist to my elbow, higher, slipping beneath my sleeve to trace the curve of my bicep.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, but hunger burns through his protest.
“You won’t.”
I hold his eyes as I lower myself to my knees before him.
Aaiden’s breath hisses between his teeth. “Stand up.”
I remain where I am, looking up at him through my lashes. “Make me.”
His hand slides into my hair, fisting at the nape of my neck, and the touch sends shivers down my spine. I lean into it, making it clear this contact is welcome. Wanted.
“This isn’t what you need,” he says, rougher now with an Alpha rumble that vibrates in my bones.
“You don’t get to decide what I need.” I reach for his belt, fingers hovering above the buckle. “Only what you’re willing to give.”
His grip tightens in my hair, firm enough to hold me in place but nowhere near painful. “We should talk before—”
“You’ve talked enough.” My hands settle on his thighs, squeezing the solid muscle beneath expensive slacks. “I’m done waiting.”
Aaiden’s control frays, his breathing uneven as his pheromones thicken with desire, possession, and a need as great as my own.
“Fuck,” he curses, thumb stroking across my pulse point where it hammers in my throat. “Tell me to stop, and we pretend this never happened.”
In answer, I lean forward, rubbing my face over the front of his slacks where his cock is starting to harden.
He sucks in a sharp breath, and the hand in my hair tightens to hold me there, suspended on the edge of a decision six years in the making.
Then, his hips shift forward into the contact.
Permission granted.
I breathe in Aaiden’s scent, gripping his thighs for balance. The heat of his skin burns through the expensive material, and the rigid outline of his cock presses against my cheek, the length of it extending toward his hip.
My mouth waters with the need to taste him, to have this part of him that he’s kept from me for so long. I’ve imagined this moment a hundred different ways, his thick shaft stretching my lips, the weight of him on my tongue, the salt-musk of him when he comes.
I roll my eyes upward as I nuzzle his hardness, mouthing at the distinct ridge of his cock head through the fabric. A low sound rumbles in his chest, not quite a growl but close enough to have my own dick throbbing painfully behind my zipper.
My fingers find his belt, working the leather through the buckle. The metal clinks as it comes undone, and Aaiden’s breathing grows heavier above me. I maintain eye contact as I move to his top button, popping it free with a flick of my thumb.
The zipper slides down under my touch, revealing black boxer briefs stretched tight over his impressive length. A small damp spot darkens the fabric where the swollen head strains against it, a glistening promise of what awaits.
I lean forward, breathing hot on the cotton, satisfaction surging through me when Aaiden’s hips jerk toward my mouth.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, ready to pull it down, but before I can, his hands are on my shoulders, hauling me to my feet with effortless strength.
I whine in protest. I was so close to finally learning his flavor, his texture, his heat. I writhe within his grasp, needing to be back on my knees.
“Don’t fight me,” he murmurs, his breath hot across my lips.
My body goes limp in his hold, and he pulls me closer, the hard lines of his body fitting against mine as if we were made for each other.
Because we were.
With a growl, his mouth claims mine, years of denial and want condensed into a brutal conquest. His lips dominate, demanding entry, and when his tongue invades my mouth, I yield, letting him ravage me from the inside.
His hand seizes my jaw, thumbs digging into my cheekbones as he wrenches my head back to deepen the assault. The bruising grip contrasts with the skill of his mouth, the contradiction so perfectly him that I break apart beneath it.
I surge into him, desperate for more pressure, more domination, more of everything he’s withheld. My hands claw at his shirt, tearing at expensive fabric until buttons scatter across the floor.
Aaiden’s restraint fractures with each passing second. The kiss turns savage, punishing, his teeth breaking the skin of my bottom lip before he laps at the copper tang. A predatory rumble builds in his chest, vibrating through my dick where we’re crushed together.
His hands slide roughly down my spine, over my hips, and grip my ass. He hauls me up the hard wall of his body, grinding our erections together, and I relish the thick, unyielding length of him, how much he craves this despite all his denials.
And then the memory of other Alphas grabbing, lifting, and controlling slams into me from nowhere. My body goes rigid, and suddenly I’m back in that warehouse, hands holding me down, voices laughing as I struggle, pain splitting me open—
Panic claws up my throat, choking me. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. My heart pounds so hard I’m certain it will crack my ribs.
My hands, which had been pulling Aaiden closer, now shove hard against his chest as I rip my lips from his. “Stop!”
Aaiden instantly releases me, stepping back with his hands raised, confusion and concern etched across his features. “Jade?”
The sound of my name comes from far away, distorted by the rushing in my ears. I stumble backward until my shoulders hit the wall, trying to ground myself in the present.
This is the safe house.
This is Aaiden.
I chose this.
I want this.
But my body doesn’t care. It’s locked in fight-or-flight, every muscle tense, ready to run or strike. My breath comes in short, panicked pants that don’t bring enough oxygen to my lungs.
“I’m sorry,” I manage, hating the way I tremble. “I don’t know why… I didn’t mean…”
Pity flashes before Aaiden shuts it down. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I push away from the wall, my feet carrying me back toward him. “I want this. I want you. But I need… Give me a minute.”
I reach for him, but Aaiden steps out of range, his face shuttering. “This was a mistake.”
“No, you said you wouldn’t stop,” I say in desperation. “I want you.”
“And your body just told us both you’re not ready.” His voice is gentle but firm.
Humiliation burns through me. I want to argue, to prove him wrong, but I can’t form the words past the lingering panic.
Aaiden buttons his pants and refastens his belt with steady hands, his shirt hanging open where I’d torn it apart. The exposed strip of his chest rises and falls with controlled breaths, golden skin marked with a faint red scratch where my nails had caught him in my desperation.
When he looks at me again, he’s back in control, the perfect Alpha who never loses his composure. “You need to rest. Take the bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Aaiden, please,” I beg, hating that this is what I’ve been reduced to. “Don’t do this. Don’t pull away again.”
He doesn’t respond to my plea. Instead, he gestures toward the bedroom doorway. “Sleep, Jade. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Not a Command this time, but a request, and somehow, that hurts worse. As if he doesn’t think I’m even worth controlling anymore.
I want to fight, to force him to acknowledge what happened between us, but exhaustion sweeps over me. The adrenaline crash from the mission, the emotional whiplash of the past hour, and the lingering effects of panic all combine to drain whatever energy I had left.
Without another word, I turn and walk toward the bedroom, each step a surrender, but not the one I crave.
Behind me, Aaiden sighs with regret and resignation.
The bedroom door closes between us with a quiet click, and this time, I don’t know which hurts more.
That he stopped.
Or that part of me needed him to.