Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
MORGAN
“Ididn’t realize how beautiful your house was last time I was here,” I tell him as he slides my coat off my shoulders in his entryway.
The living room has nearly floor-to-ceiling windows along the front that overlook the tree-lined street, and an exposed-brick wall runs along one side from the front of the brownstone all the way to the back.
The living room, with its big white couch and smaller patterned chairs, opens to the dining room with a huge round table under a gorgeous chandelier and flanked by eight fabric chairs.
Beyond that, it’s open to the kitchen with wood cabinets, and beautiful marble countertops and backsplash.
It’s the perfect blend of old-world charm and modern function.
“You were too busy throwing up,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before turning to hang my coat.
I sit on the bench in the entryway to remove my knee-high boots, and set them aside so I don’t track snow all over his house.
The walk home was beautiful, but slippery with the falling snow.
And after we trudged up his stone steps to his big front door, he gently brushed the snow off my face and leaned in to kiss me.
“Did you decorate this place?”
His loud bark of laughter rings out in the quiet space. “No. I bought it fully furnished from a couple who had extremely good taste. But I don’t know, sometimes it still feels kind of . . . sterile?”
I think about how lived-in my condo feels, with blankets and pillows and candles, not to mention all the photos framed on the walls and sitting on tables and bookshelves.
Aidan’s place looks like a photographer might show up at any minute to take pictures for a magazine.
“It could use some . . . personal touches to make it feel more homey.”
“I think,” he says, putting his hands on my hips to turn me back toward him, “it would feel a lot more homey if you were here more often.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re the only woman who’s ever been in my house, and it’s felt lonely since you left.”
“Last time I was here, I spent two days throwing up.”
“Yes, but you were here. I’d take cleaning puke off you over not having you here, any day.”
I can’t help but chuckle when I say, “That’s kind of gross and oddly sweet at the same time. You’re such a goner for me.”
I’m teasing, but I’m not. He’s shown me for months how he felt about me, despite the lies he was telling himself, and me as well.
And now that his words and his actions align, I have no doubt of his feelings.
Still, I’m cautious about moving too quickly given my own track record with giving second chances and getting burned.
“I really am, and I always will be. There’s literally no way you’re getting rid of me. Prepare for me to be clingy as hell, because now that I have you back, I don’t want to be apart from you for even a second.”
When he dips his head to kiss me, I rise up on my toes to meet him. My arms circle his neck and his grip tightens possessively on my hips as he pulls me against him. And when my lips part for him, he invades my mouth, our tongues tangling with desperate need.
My entire body is on fire for him, the flames coursing through my veins as I lift one of my legs, curling it around the back of his thighs and pulling him even tighter against me.
But because of our height difference, I’m not getting the friction I’m looking for.
He must realize this because his hands snake around the back of my legs and push between my thighs, scooping me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Then he spins me toward the wall, leaning my back into it so he can press his hips up and slide along my core.
I moan into his mouth and I swear the sound sets him off, because suddenly he’s running his hard dick along my center, hitting my clit every single time, until we’re both wild and feral and clawing at each other.
But then he pulls back from our kiss, resting his forehead against mine as he holds my hips still, and I whimper with the need to feel him moving against me.
“Holy fuck, Morgan. If you don’t stop making those sounds, I’m going to come in my pants. It’s been too long since I've touched you and I’m not sure I can hold back.”
“I don’t see the problem with that,” I say, bringing my hand to his face and running my thumb along the line of his cheekbone. His beard is neatly trimmed, and I’m so used to seeing him with facial hair now that I almost can’t remember what he looked like without it.
“I haven’t been with you in weeks, and the first time I come is going to be inside of you, not in my damn boxers.”
“Please, Aidan,” I nearly whimper with need. “I need you.”
“I’ll give you everything you want, I promise.
But I’m not rushing this.” He pulls his hips away from me and as my legs fall, he scoops an arm under them so he’s cradling me against his chest. Then he carries me up the stairs and down the hall.
He pauses at one half-open door and presses it open with his foot.
“This can be your office. We’ll set it up with whatever you need.”
I’m so shocked by that statement that I can’t even form the words to respond.
What the hell is he talking about? Then he turns and climbs the stairs at the far end of the hall, and when we reach the top, he pushes another door open.
We step into a small, empty room, and he tells me, “We can make this room into a walk-in closet for you, if you don’t want to share mine. ”
“I just agreed to give you a second chance like an hour ago, and you’re already planning for me to move in here with you? You’re out of your mind.” I let out a small, uncomfortable laugh.
“No, I think I’m finally in my right mind.
I’ve been thinking about a future with you since the first night in Bermuda,” he says as he turns and starts walking down the hall.
“And now, I’m done fighting myself. I’m done sabotaging my own happiness.
I meant what I said earlier, you’re not getting rid of me. ”
“I don’t want to get rid of you,” I remind him as he heads down the hallway.
“What if I don’t get another contract with Boston?” There’s a deep insecurity in his question, and I want to reassure him, but it’s still early in this relationship.
“I think we just take this one day at a time.”
“What if you get tired of me?” he asks.
I laugh. “I’m not going to get tired of you.”
“You don’t know that,” he says, and I look up at him as he strides through the doorway into a large bedroom at the back of the house.
“No one else has ever made me feel so seen, so supported, so adored, or so loved. Why in the world would I get tired of that?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Just remind me of that sometimes, okay?”
“Remind you of what?”
“That I’m being the person you need me to be. And if I’m not being that person, tell me that too. I want us to communicate about the important things, and not let our insecurities get in the way.”
I pause for a moment, thinking about how that’s the most mature thing I’ve ever heard anyone say at the beginning of a relationship.
And that’s when it truly hits me: this isn’t the beginning of our relationship.
It’s the beginning of a new phase . . . the one where we’re committed to making this work, hopefully forever.
He lays me gently on the bed, no signs of the desperation we were both feeling downstairs, and carefully removes my bra and underwear, then strips his clothes off. When he kneels beside me, I can’t resist reaching out and sliding my fist up his hard cock before circling the head with my fingers.
He groans before saying, “I want you bare.”
“Oh?” I’m enjoying watching the way his abs flex every time I slide my fist down his length.
“Yes. I don’t want anything between us, not even a condom.”
“You already did that in a cave in Bermuda.”
“Yeah, but I’m not pulling out again. So I feel like we need to have a whole conversation about what would happen if you got pregnant.”
“I won’t get pregnant.”
“How are you so sure?” he asks.
I hesitate, not sure how he’ll react because of everything going on with Marissa Walsh. “I’ve had an IUD for years.”
“Well, fuuuuck,” he draws out the word as he runs a hand through his hair. He swings a leg over my hips so he’s kneeling, poised above me, as I continue stroking him. “If you don’t stop that, there’s not going to be any sex. I want you so bad right now.”
I slide my hand off him and down his muscular thighs. Then he leans forward, planting an elbow next to my head as he repositions his legs, using his knees to spread mine apart. “Why do you have an IUD?”
“Really bad periods and no desire to have kids this young.”
“Do you want to have kids eventually?”
“Eventually,” I say. “But I’m not ready now.”
“Good. I want to enjoy this time where it’s just us for a while first.” His free hand caresses the curve of my shoulder then he trails his fingers along the side of my breast and along my rib cage.
“You’re moving from ‘I can’t be in a relationship’ to ‘Let’s get married and have kids together’ real fast.”
“It feels fast to you because you haven’t been in my head for the past couple months while I fell for you. Totally and completely, even as I tried to prevent it from happening.”
“Hmmm,” I say as his hand continues its path down my side and along the curve of my hip. He reaches beneath my thigh and pulls my leg up and over his lower back. “I’m glad you stopped trying.”
“No choice,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. “I didn’t want to be without you, no matter what the consequences were.”
He moves his hips and glances down between us as he slides inside me ever so slowly, like he’s trying to savor every second of this. My teeth sink into my lower lip as he fills me completely, and then, with his eyes locked on mine, he sets a pace that’s just right.
It’s not the desperate, frantic sex we would have had if he’d given in back in that hallway. It’s slow and deliberate, and the reverent way he’s looking at me tells me everything about what this moment means to him. Another step forward as a couple, another “first” for us together.
“God, I missed you,” he says, and his lips brush the tip of my nose before he pulls his head back to look at me. I can see his emotions plainly on his face—the pain of holding back and the relief of finally giving in. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
I know what he means . . . that while he might have loved Hayley in the past, this is different.
It’s new for me too. I don’t feel like I have to change myself to fit what someone else wants me to be.
I’m not worried about trying to be enough without being too much, never fully able to be who I really am.
With Aidan, I can let go of my insecurities, because I feel secure with him.
I bring my knee up so one foot is planted next to his hip, and use it to give myself some leverage as I rise to meet each thrust. A groan rattles around in his chest and his gaze lowers to watch the way our bodies meet.
I snake my hand behind his neck, threading my fingers into his hair as I pull his head down so I can kiss him.
And that’s what does us both in—my nipples dragging along his skin, his tongue stroking mine in deep pulls that match the pace of our bodies meeting, his hips tilting slightly so the head of his cock presses right along the spot that he knows will bring on my orgasm.
When he pulls back to look at me, my core clenches around him.
His jaw is tight, like he’s holding back until I’m ready. As the pulsing in my core intensifies and my lips part in a small gasp, an electrical current flows through me and I arch my back, pressing my shoulders into the mattress and crying out.
“That’s right, baby,” he coaxes, moving faster until I’m gasping for breath while my orgasm rips through me. And then he’s grunting, a long, low sound that escapes the back of his throat as he pours himself into me.
When we’re both finished, he props himself above me on both elbows and leans in to kiss my forehead. “You’re perfect. And you’re mine now.”