Chapter 14
Steam follows me from the shower, clinging to my skin as I step into the cooler air of the bathroom.
I bypass the towel on the warmer to slip into the robe hanging on the hook beside it, wrapping myself in soft cashmere that carries traces of his pheromones beneath the clean scent of fabric softener.
My body burns hotter than the shower I just left, a fever tied to the persistent emptiness deep inside me, an ache radiating from my lower back to my tailbone.
I reach up to push wet black hair off my forehead, water droplets trailing down my neck and beneath the collar of the robe, and the sensation sends a shiver through me despite the heat radiating from my core.
The food Aaiden ordered sits heavy in my stomach. It had been more than I would usually eat, and I had devoured it as if I’d been starving for days.
The shower scrubbed away the traces left by the fight, replacing them with sandalwood soap and a hint of cedar from the shampoo.
But nothing can wash away the persistent throb of need pulsing through me, or the slick wetness between my ass cheeks that continues to build no matter how many times I tried to clean it away.
As I head for the door to the bedroom, my hard dick rubs against the soft cashmere, and a whine builds in my throat. I had tried to give myself relief in the shower, but only ended up frustrated. I tug the belt tighter, though it does nothing to hide my condition.
When I step back into the bedroom, I find Aaiden waiting.
He sits in the leather chair near the bed, his posture relaxed but alert. He had rolled his sleeves up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair, and the open top button at his collar reveals a triangle of tanned skin at his throat.
His green eyes catch mine, the desire in them stealing my breath. “Feeling better?”
The sound of his voice shivers through me, and another wave of heat washes over me.
I should stay where I am. Should maintain some dignity despite the fever burning through my veins. But a force stronger than gravity pulls me toward him, and I find my feet carrying me across the plush carpet until I stand before his chair.
As I approach, Aaiden’s nostrils flare, drinking in my thickening pheromones.
I don’t wait for an invitation as I climb into his lap, my knees bracketing his thighs within the confines of the wide chair. The position brings our bodies close, the heat of him burning through the thin material of his pants and my robe.
His hands remain on the armrests, though his fingers flex on the leather, wanting to touch me.
I lean forward and bury my face in the gap of his collar, nosing along the warm skin of his throat. His scent fills my lungs, clean sweat and expensive cologne, and beneath it all, the musk of Alpha that calls to the primal side of me.
A rumble vibrates in his chest, but he doesn’t touch me, and he won’t without my explicit consent. Even now, with me wiggling in his lap, he holds back, waiting for me to set the boundaries.
“Touch me,” I moan into his throat. “Please.”
“Where?” he asks, the question vibrating beneath my cheek where it presses to his throat.
“Anywhere,” I breathe. “Everywhere. Just touch me.”
His hands lift from the armrests, hovering for a moment before settling on my back. They anchor me, driving back the floating sensation that’s been threatening since the war room. His palms slide up and down my back in long, soothing strokes that send ripples of pleasure through my overheated body.
“You’re burning up,” he murmurs, one hand moving to the nape of my neck, fingers threading through my damp hair.
I wiggle closer, seeking more contact, and hum in agreement.
His thumb massages circles into my tense flesh. “Are you all right? After what happened earlier?”
The question catches me off guard. No one asks me that after missions. Not Caleb, not even my mother. The private therapist I see twice a month asks, but I avoid him and his questions as much as possible.
Did Aaiden worry and wait until we were alone to bring it up?
“I’m fine,” I answer automatically.
Aaiden’s hand moves to cup my jaw, tilting my chin up. “We agreed on honesty, remember? No hiding in this space.”
The reminder of our new rules settles something inside me. In this space, with this man, I don’t need to pretend.
“There wasn’t time to be afraid,” I admit. “Everything happened too fast. But when I was down to my last bullet, I realized I might not make it out.”
“And?” he prompts, his thumb stroking along my jawline.
“And I wasn’t ready for it to be the end.” My fingers curl into his shirt. “Not anymore.”
For months after my rescue, I’d been chasing death, throwing myself into increasingly dangerous situations with no care for my own survival. But tonight, trapped and pinned down, something had changed.
His hands never stop their gentle exploration of my back, my shoulders, and my neck. “What made the difference?”
I swallow hard. “You.”
The single word comes out raw, honest, and terrifying.
Aaiden doesn’t respond, but his scent shifts, deepening with an emotion he doesn’t express. His hand slides down to rest between my shoulder blades, urging me closer to his chest.
The steady beat of his heart beneath my palm gives me the courage to keep talking. “How did you find me? After communications went down?”
My fingers find the buttons of his shirt, working them free to uncover more of his throat. He doesn’t stop me.
“The tracker in your comm unit showed you moving toward the secondary extraction point,” he explains, his low rumble vibrating through me. “When we lost signal, I knew something was wrong. Tony’s people must have been using a signal jammer.”
I work another button free, needing more skin contact. “And you just... went in? Alone?”
His hand tightens on the back of my neck, not painful but possessive. “I wasn’t going to wait for a team to assemble.”
The simple statement carries so much weight. Aaiden Rockford, who plans everything, who calculates every risk and contingency, threw caution aside and charged into danger without backup.
For me.
I rest my forehead on his collarbone, overcome by the implications. “You could have been killed.”
“So could you.” His fingers stroke through my hair. “I made my choice.”
I straighten to search his face for something I’m not sure how to name.
“Are you okay?” I ask, echoing his earlier question back to him. “After what happened tonight?”
His jaw tightens, the muscles working beneath his skin. “No. I’m not okay.”
My breath catches. I’ve never heard him admit weakness, not once in all the years I’ve known him.
“When I caught up to you and saw the bodies...” His fingers flex against my skin, grip tightening for a moment before relaxing. “I didn’t know if you were still alive.”
The admission is filled with everything he’s not saying. I can see it in him now, the fracture lines in his perfect control. It had hurt when he held me off while debriefing, but now I see how contact would have shattered us both.
“I heard gunfire,” he continues roughly. “So much gunfire. And then the silence...” His hands tighten on me. “It shook me to my core.”
The urge to move closer, to consume this moment of honesty, overwhelms me, and I lean forward to brush our lips together. The contact sends electricity sparking through my body, but I restrain myself, leaving it as only a soft press of lips, before I pull back.
“Is this okay?”
Hunger replaces vulnerability in an instant. “Get your lips back on mine.”
The growled Command shoots straight to my dick, and I comply without hesitation, angling my mouth over his, and this time, there’s nothing gentle about it.
Aaiden takes control, one hand sliding into my hair to angle my head how he wants it. His tongue pushes past my lips, claiming my mouth in a kiss that’s equal parts demand and promise. Cool mint lingers on his breath, as if he brushed his teeth while I showered in preparation for this moment.
I moan into the kiss, my fingers fumbling with his remaining buttons. Each one that comes free reveals more tanned skin and defined muscle. I push the fabric aside, palms flattening over his chest, relishing the thundering beat of his heart beneath my hands.
Aaiden’s free hand finds the belt of my robe, tugging it loose with a swift pull. The sides fall open, exposing me to the cool air of the bedroom. I gasp as his fingers trail along the edge of the fabric, not quite touching the bare skin beneath but promising more.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I mold my body flush to his, craving the skin-to-skin contact I’ve been denied for so long. The brush of his chest hair tickling my smooth skin sends shivers cascading through me, and I arch into the touch with a needy sound.
The robe slips further from my shoulders, pooling around my waist. My dick stands erect between us, flushed dark with blood and slick at the tip. The sight of myself bared while Aaiden remains clothed should leave me feeling vulnerable, but instead, it sends another spike of arousal through me.
My hand drops to grip my aching length, stroking from base to tip, but the contact offers minimal relief from the burning need inside me.
“Touch me,” I plead, capturing his wrist and guiding his hand to my aching dick. “Please.”
Aaiden’s breath hitches as his fingers wrap around me, warm and calloused and perfect. His grip is firm, confident, exactly what I’ve fantasized about for years. I buck into his hand, unable to stop the desperate sound that tears out of me.
“Like this?” he rumbles, melting my bones.
“Yes,” I gasp, hips jerking as he gives me a slow, deliberate stroke. “God, yes.”
A rumble builds in his chest, vibrating through me. “Touch me, too.”