Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
AIDAN
Morgan’s gaze lifts to meet mine, then shifts back toward the guy she’s talking to.
In his collared shirt and khakis, he looks like he walked out of the yacht club to come here.
When she tucks her head in toward his, it takes everything in my power not to react.
I can tell she’s just trying to hear what he’s saying, because they’re sitting right by the live band that’s playing tonight.
But her close proximity to another guy, no matter who he is, has me feeling downright murderous.
“Nothing going on there, huh?” McCabe asks, the laughter in his low voice unmistakable.
Fuck. I forgot he was even here, much less that we were mid-conversation before I caught sight of Morgan at the bar. Morgan, who just told everyone she didn’t feel well and was going back to the hotel, but is now sitting at the bar with another guy.
“Nope,” I say, but with my jaw clenched as I say it, the P is a sharp sound that vibrates against my lips. I’m so damn annoyed that he’s noticed the jealousy that’s radiating off me, but at this point, who wouldn’t?
“You sure? Because you look jealous as hell.”
“It’s not jealousy. I just don’t like the look of that guy.”
McCabe glances over again. “He looks perfectly harmless. Like the kind of guy who’d bump into you accidentally and then buy you a beer to apologize.”
“Those are always the guys you have to worry about.” What I really mean is he’s the kind of guy I have to worry about, because he’s the kind of guy Morgan should be looking for.
“Why’s that?”
“People who seem squeaky clean like that are usually the ones hiding skeletons in their closets.”
Morgan takes another sip of her drink. It almost seems like she’s in a hurry to finish it. Hopefully that’s because she’s in a hurry to get away from this guy, but when she looks over at him and her smile turns into a laugh, I’m left wondering if she’s in a hurry to leave with him.
“So is this why you’re less of an asshole this season? Are you . . . happy?” McCabe spits the word out like he never thought he’d use it in reference to me.
“Am I really that big of a dick normally?”
“Yes. This season, less so. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s different, and I finally see it. Love changes you in funny ways.”
“I’m not in love,” I say quickly, almost on autopilot.
“Sure you’re not.”
His words are followed by a low rumble of laughter that attracts AJ’s attention, and she turns back to us from a conversation she was having with Colt and MacIntyre.
The rookie went down to the bar, picked up six girls, and brought them back to the VIP section.
AJ and Colt decided to talk to him about etiquette, but I’m not sure the kid is willing to learn.
“Morgan’s still here? Ohhhh . . .” She drags out the word like she’s sharing a juicy piece of gossip.
“What the heck?” McCabe asks with a chuckle.
“Oh, just . . . that’s the guy who was hitting on Morgan back at the arena. I told him we’d be here tonight, but . . . I thought he told her he couldn’t stop by and would see her in Boston instead.”
She’s made plans to see him back in Boston? I focus on taking a slow, deep breath as the edges of my vision cloud. Breathe.
I tell my friends I’m going to head to the bathroom, and then I bypass the bar on my way to the back hallway with the Restrooms sign hanging above it.
Aidan
Lose that guy, and meet me in my hotel room.
Now that I’m away from the balcony, there’s no way to know if she’s read the message or not. But she doesn’t respond, which ratchets up my anxiety. This is why you don’t do relationships, I remind myself. No one can leave you if you don’t let them get close in the first place.
When I make it back to the balcony, Morgan is no longer at the bar.
Then again, neither is the guy she was sitting next to.
There’s no way I can ask AJ or McCabe if she left with that guy without completely blowing our cover, so instead I tell them I’m beat, and I’m going to go back to my room to catch some sleep before our flight tomorrow morning.
AJ seems pleased with my choice, because two seasons ago, I would have been closing down this bar.
McCabe, though, can barely contain his smirk.
When I exit the bar, Morgan is alone at the end of the block trying to hail a cab. Instead, I flag one down about ten yards before it gets to her, and when she turns to give me a nasty look for stealing her cab, I tell her to get in.
She bites the corner of her lip, looking like she wants to decline, but the chilly late October breeze whips down the street, blowing her hair around her face as she shivers.
“Get in the taxi, Morgan.” My words are practically a growl, and I don’t like that I sound as angry as I feel right now.
Her sigh is deep as she takes the last few steps toward me. I don’t know why she seems mad at me, but I’ve got a few minutes alone with her in the back of this car to find out.
“What’s going on?” I ask her once we’re settled in the back seat.
With her eyes closed, she rests her head against the seat. It’s close to midnight and I’m sure she must be tired. Unlike me, she probably didn’t get to take a two-hour nap before the game.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t respond to my text.”
With the passing streetlights and headlights of oncoming cars illuminating the interior of the cab, I don’t miss the way her eyelids press together tightly. “What text?”
“You really think I believe you didn’t read it? That you just happened to get rid of that guy when I sent it?” I have no idea if she “got rid of that guy” or if he left on his own. But I’m determined to find out.
She’s silent for nearly a full minute, long enough that we’re already turning onto the street where our hotel is, when she finally says, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
If she hadn’t faltered, I might have believed her. Instead, I reach over, cupping the far side of her face in my hand and turning her head so she’ll look at me. “What’s really going on, Morgan?”
“All right, you two,” the cab driver says as he pulls into the hotel’s drop-off area, only a few blocks from the bar. “Here you are.”
“Thanks,” Morgan says, reaching for the door handle as I tap the card reader to pay for the ride.
She hustles out of the car and walks into the hotel like she’s trying to escape having this conversation.
When I get to the bank of elevators, she’s not there, but the doors are just starting to close on the one in the middle.
Hoping it’s her, I reach out and wave my arm between the doors.
I don’t miss the way she sighs and crosses her arms across her abdomen as I stride in.
I decide to ask the question I’ve been wondering about. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Why would I be trying to make you jealous?” Her tone is defensive. Not like I’ve hit too close to the truth, more like she’s offended I’d make the suggestion in the first place.
“I don’t know, Morgan. For the same reason you wore McCabe’s jersey a couple weeks ago?”
“That was not about you. And neither was this.”
“By this you mean having a drink with another guy right in front of me? You sure? Because it certainly seems like you’re trying to keep my attention.”
“I don’t play games, Aidan, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m not sure what games she thinks I’m playing here.
“It means I don’t want these ups and downs!
” Her voice is a lot less calm than before.
“That guy introduced himself before the game, and AJ mentioned where we’d be afterward.
He said he couldn’t come, and I wasn't expecting to see him there. I wasn’t trying to have a drink with another guy right in front of you—”
“Oh, just behind my back?”
“You don’t get to be jealous about this. You’re the one who wants to keep this casual and told me I should feel free to see other guys.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to keep this casual?” I ask, stepping closer as the elevator bell announces our arrival at her floor. I don’t know why I’m itching for a fight . . . probably because I just had to watch her at the bar with another guy.
She raises her hand to tuck a piece of hair that’s fallen in her face back behind her ear as she sighs. “I know what we agreed to, Aidan. I’m not asking for more.”
The elevator doors open, and when she steps out, I follow her as she speed walks down the hallway to her room. I reach out and grasp her elbow as she stops in front of her door, and as she turns toward me she stumbles, pressing her hands into my chest as she looks up at me.
“You’re not asking for more because that’s not what you want? Or because you don’t want to break our agreement? Or something else?” I ask the questions slowly, careful to give her options.
My heart races hopefully, thrilled at the idea that she would want me to stick around, want something real with me, even while the logical side of my brain reminds me that it’s not possible.
I don’t want to be a wedge between her and her father, and she deserves someone better than me.
Someone who knows what they want and isn’t so damn afraid of being hurt.
“Fuck if I know,” she says, clearly exasperated. “All I know is that this doesn’t feel casual.” She turns and taps her key card against the door, and I reach past her to push it open, guiding her into the room with my hand on her lower back.
“Why are you in my room?” she mutters as she taps the button on the wall that turns on the lights hanging on either side of the bed.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re confusing the hell out of me,” she says, annoyance ringing out. “You don’t want to be apart from me, but you also don’t want to commit.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.”
“This is all getting really repetitive. Either this isn’t serious, or it is. But you can’t say one thing and act differently. What the hell is it that you want Aidan?”
“I want you—” My words are cut off as we step toward each other, our mouths crashing together. This isn’t the gentle kiss of two lovers sneaking away to their hotel room together. It’s desperation and passion. Two people who know it can’t work out between them, but aren’t quite ready to let go.
So don’t let go. Thoughts of me and Morgan in an actual relationship have been plaguing me since we left Ember Cover two weeks ago.
I can’t stop picturing what we could have if I’d just stop holding back.
I also can’t stop imagining the devastation I’ll feel when she realizes I’m not what she wants and leaves me.
It’s not rational, I know that, but I can’t get over the fear of losing her.
The only thing I can do is protect myself by not letting this go any further than it has.
“I need you,” Morgan mumbles. “Now.” The last word is desperate and pleading as her hands slip along my shoulders between my shirt and sports coat, dragging it down my arms until it falls to the ground.
Then she pushes up on her toes, her mouth meeting mine again with such ferocity it feels like she’s trying to devour me.
Our clothes are shed quickly, littered around the floor as we move toward her bed without breaking apart from each other.
Then I turn and sit at the end, pulling her down onto my lap so her knees are spread on either side of me.
She slides herself along my hard length, circling her clit against the head of my cock every time she rises up.
My hands and mouth are everywhere—her neck, her collarbones, her breasts—as she takes the condom from me and rolls it down my shaft.
She moans when I suck her nipple into my mouth, and I move my hands to her hips, my fingers splayed across her ass as I position her right over the top of me.
Then I’m the one moaning as she sinks down fast and hard.
She rises and then slides back down on me quickly, taking me deep, over and over, but her eyes never leave mine. Then she wraps one arm around my shoulders, holding our bodies tightly together like she’s trying to memorize the way our bodies fit together.
One of her hands slips between us, the backs of her knuckles pressing into my abdomen as her finger circles her clit. She’s chasing her orgasm, and I can tell by the way her lips part, her breathing speeds up, and her eyes become half lidded that she’s close.
And then, she whispers, “Yes, oh my god, Aidan, yes,” while her inner walls throb against my dick, and she reaches her other hand behind her and toys with my balls.
That’s all it takes and I’m seeing stars at the edges of my vision. My fingers curl into the curve of her ass as I hold her hips in place. As her orgasm ripples around me and the sound of her moans fill my head, I come so hard I feel like I might pass out.
My head falls forward, resting against her breastbone, and she wraps her arms around me, resting her chin on my head. We stay there, joined together as we both try to catch our breath, and all I can think is, It’s never like this.
I clean her up and pull her against me in bed, and I’m pretty sure she’s asleep before I’ve even thrown the covers over us. I lie there, one arm circled around her lower back as she cuddles into me, thinking how perfect she is for me. I only wish I could be perfect for her, too.
Guilt nearly overwhelms me when I remember that when she asked me what I wanted, I said I wanted her. The way she fucked me after that felt different than what we’ve shared before. It felt like she knew there was an enormous but coming after that statement.
I want you . . . but I can’t have you.
And that’s when I realize that this whole relationship feels like it’s come full circle. It started with sex, and now I worry that it’s ending with sex, too.