10. Aiden
10
AIDEN
I ’m elbow-deep in charcoal when my phone starts buzzing.
Just work through the distraction. If it’s important they’ll leave a message or better yet, text you.
I go back to sketching the archer’s legs. I need to get the muscle tension just right before I even attempt to start the final piece.
I’m usually not this fussy, a couple rough sketches and I’m good to go. This time is different though. I need to translate her perfectly to paper before I move to canvas.
Correction, I need to translate it perfectly.
This isn’t a Pygmalion and Galatea situation. This archer is purely fictional and based on several different reference models. Maybe if I think that enough, I’ll be able to convince myself it’s true.
Max trusts me with his sister. He told me as much the day Liv came back home.
I know you’d never mess with her like that. His words keep pounding through my brain.
Yet what did I turn around and do the first chance I got? I had a foursome with her and his other two best friends.
Max would go nuclear if he knew I was basing this scantily clad warrior woman on Olivia. I can’t even imagine what would go down if he ever finds out about what happened in New York.
I sigh and attempt to massage the sudden headache out of my temples.
I really am the worst friend in the universe.
My phone buzzes again. This time I actually look to see who’s calling.
Of course, it’s Max.
A bolt of anxiety spears through my stomach.
He knows. Your friendship is over, and your career is going to be ruined.
There is no possible way he could know, and if he did, he’d be trying to break down my door instead of calling.
Still, why is he calling me?
I glare down at the phone, hoping it will cough up the answer without me having to face my guilty conscience.
No such luck for me today.
“Hello?”
“Is Liv with you?” he demands.
Oh shit. He does know.
“What?”
“Is Olivia with you right now?”
“No. Why would she be? There’s no reason for her to be here,” I sputter.
“Damn it. She didn’t ask you to lie for her, did she? I don’t care if she’s there, I just need to know she’s okay.”
This is not the time for my irrational anxiety or guilt to step in. Something is seriously wrong.
“I promise, Max, she’s not here. Now take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”
“We had a massive fight and she cleared out most of her clothes and personal things at home. I haven’t seen her since.”
“Well, that’s nothing new. You two are always going at it. I’m sure she’ll come back soon.”
“No.” Max sighs. “Not this time. Like I said, she cleaned out most of her clothes, and her big suitcase is gone. I don’t think she’s ever going to come back.”
“I feel like you’re leaving some key details out of the story here. Start at the top.”
As he tells me what happened, I feel myself growing more and more concerned. I don’t think they’ve ever had a fight that bad.
“I hate to say it, but you were the asshole in that situation.”
“I know.”
I’m shocked that Max admitted he was in the wrong. I’m tempted to peek out the window to make sure the world isn’t ending.
“It’s just… Dad has always placed so much pressure on me for as long as I can remember. She was the smart one out of the two of us, and we wanted to ensure she made something of herself. It was our job to protect her, to keep her from fucking up her life. I even roped you guys into helping me once we got into high school. I know she’s an adult now, but I can’t seem to turn it off, and because of that, I might have just destroyed my entire relationship with her,” he says helplessly.
“You two are inseparable. I know you’re going to find a way to fix this. The fact that you were able to realize your mistake is huge. If you talk to her as openly as you just talked to me, I can almost guarantee your relationship will improve.”
“I really appreciate you, Aiden. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”
“I do have one more overprotective favor to ask of you though.”
“What is it?”
“Could you invite her over for dinner? And maybe let her stay with you? I know it’s still me being overbearing but I really need someone I trust to lay eyes on her, make sure she didn’t get murdered in a back alley somewhere.”
The universe is setting me up for failure, I just know it. Why else would he ask me that?
“Look, I’ll ask her to dinner but?—”
A chirp from my intercom disrupts my thoughts.
“Hold on, Max.”
I head to the front door and press the talk button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Campbell, I’ve got a Ms. Winters here claiming she knows you,” my doorman says.
“It’s fine, I know her. You can send her up.”
“Very good, sir.”
“James, while I have you, go ahead and add her to the cleared visitors list. She can come see me whenever she likes.”
“Will do, sir. Goodbye.”
I put the phone back up to my ear. “Did you catch that?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s going to be up in a minute. Do you want to stay on the phone so you can talk to her?”
“No. She clearly needs a break from me.” Max sighs. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.”
The second we hang up, Liv knocks on my door.
I can tell she’s been crying, but she holds her head high as she sweeps into my place. That’s Liv for you—always strong and proud.
I have no idea how to play this so I go for the safe option.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
Real smooth, Aiden. Real smooth.
“Max called and explained what happened, didn't he?” she asks.
“Yeah, he did.”
She drops down on the couch, a heavy sigh escaping her.
“Good. I was hoping he would. I really don’t have the energy to relive all of that again.”
“He was?—”
“Let me guess. Angry,” she deadpans.
“Actually, he was worried. He feels awful. I think he’s finally starting to work through some things, realize some things,” I say.
“Are you sure you were speaking to Max?” She raises an eyebrow.
I chuckle lightly. “Yes, and I think whenever you’re ready to talk to him again, he’s going to surprise you.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” she grumbles.
I drop onto the couch next to her. “I’m serious. Just give him a chance to talk without yelling at him for once.”
“I do not?—”
“You do. You both do,” I say firmly. “I just think this time it’s worth actually listening to him.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I do.”
She glances at her suitcase, then back at me. “I was going to stay in a hotel, but when I got to the subway, I rode around aimlessly until I ended up here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but can I stay here, just for the night?”
“Max just asked me the exact same thing. He wanted me to invite you to dinner then invite you to stay here. It’s the last thing he said before my doorman rang up.”
“He didn’t demand you drag me back home by my hair? Wow.”
“I told you, it’s different this time.”
“Okay, I believe you but?—”
“But what?”
“Can we just not talk about my brother tonight? It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to think about him anymore.”
“I think I can manage that.” I smile.
We end up watching foodie shows and yelling at the contestants the rest of the afternoon, just like we used to do when we were kids. It’s nice, comfortable even, and surprisingly easy to remember that she’s off-limits.
Dinner, however, is another story.
I can’t stop stealing glances at her while I cook. She’s let her hair down. Her shoes are off. She’s got a glass of my favorite red in her hand, and every time she takes a sip, I find myself feeling jealous of the wine glass.
Liv looks so wonderfully at ease that it’s hard to remember that she doesn’t belong here. Seeing her like this makes me want dangerous things, like having her at my table and in my bed until the day we die.
I’ve seen her naked yet somehow, this feels like the most intimate moment we’ve ever shared.
By the time we sit down for dinner, fantasies of shared closets, rumpled sheets, lazy Sunday mornings, and a thousand more dinners just like this one are running rampant throughout my brain.
“So, what are you working on?” she asks between bites of homemade sweet and sour pork.
“Working on?”
“You’ve got something on your face.” Liv points to her temple. “Paint, I think?”
I thought I’d done so well not touching my face but apparently not.
“It’s charcoal, actually,” I say.
“Oh, so you’re still in the sketching stage. I know better than to ask you to let me have a peek, but I’m holding out hope that you’ll cave and show me anyway.”
“I didn’t think you’d remember that.”
“That you like to do art to blow off steam, or that you hate people looking at your sketches?”
“Both, I guess. Hockey tends to eclipse a lot of things. Sometimes I forget what my actual degree is in.”
“That’s a shame, you’re talented. Honestly, you could probably leave hockey behind and make it in the art world if you really wanted to.”
I snort out a laugh.
If only you knew.
“Seriously, you’re very good,” she insists, obviously having taken my laugh as doubt. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. You threw my book into a campfire for peeking at your work when we were twelve. I’ve never forgotten that, never forgotten you.”
I shouldn’t press the issue. I need to just let it go and steer things back into friend territory.
“Because of the pro hockey thing?”
Liv rolls her eyes. “Because you’re kind, you put people at ease, you’ve got these fascinating pockets of weird facts in your head, and what woman doesn’t have a fantasy of being immortalized in art? You find me one woman who doesn’t want to live out the fantasy of being sketched by a man that looks like you, and I’ll show you a liar.”
My chair scrapes across the floor as I get to my feet. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you my sketches.”
Liv looks down at her half-eaten plate then back up at me. “Now?”
“Yes, now, before I lose my nerve.”
Letting her into my studio is uncharted territory for me. I don’t even let the guys in here, and they know exactly how far my little hobby has expanded to.
I feel more nervous than I did at the start of my first pro game.
“They’re over there.” I point.
My senses are on high alert, well aware that I have placed myself in an extremely uncomfortable and vulnerable situation. I can hear the slap of her bare feet on the tile floor, the rustling of papers as she flips through them.
I know the exact second when she realizes who the reference for my drawing is. Her breath catches in her throat, and she turns to me with wide and confused eyes.
“This is… you drew… I…”
“From the moment you walked back into my life, I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you. I don’t know how you managed it, but you are even more beautiful than when you left. One look at Max, though, and I knew you were off-limits. That night in New York… once will never be enough. So I thought that maybe if I drew you?—”
She holds up my sketch, causing me to halt my words.
“This is what you see when you look at me?”
Here it comes. She’s going to think I oversexualized her, that I see her as violent and cruel.
I wring my hands nervously. “I can explain.”
“You see me as something powerful and fierce?”
My breath catches as she grabs me by the shirt, pulling me against her. The feel of her body pressed against mine is intoxicating. My hands rove over every inch of her I can reach, and it’s still not enough.
With a flick of my wrist, I undo the button of her pants. I fall to my knees before her as I toss her jeans somewhere across the room. Her fingernails dig into the wood of the drawing table in an attempt to stay balanced as I throw a leg over my shoulder.
I press a trail of open-mouthed kisses up the insides of her thighs. The sound she makes when I trace my tongue from her opening up to her clit is art in its purest form. I lick and suck on that sensitive bundle of nerves until I feel her legs start to shake.
Her back arches into a perfect crescent as I slip two fingers inside her. I work her hard with my fingers and tongue, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
A slight clenching of her thigh muscles is the only warning I get before she comes fast and hard, screaming my name.
She grabs my hair and jerks me upright, kissing my neck, shoulders, lips, collarbone—anywhere she can reach.
Her hands shake and fumble as she pulls my lounge pants down. I can’t help but feel a burst of pride realizing that I gave her an orgasm so powerful that she can hardly concentrate.
Her hand wraps around my dick, stroking me slowly enough that I know she’s deliberately teasing me.
“Keep that up and I’m not going to last long enough to get you into my bed, angel.”
She kisses me hard on the mouth. “To hell with the bedroom. Fuck me right here, right now, on this table.”
I swear she must have taken up residency in my head because I’ve been fantasizing about doing this ever since the day she came back.
Her nails dig into my back as I ease into her. Once I’m fully seated inside, I swear I see stars.
I want to take my time with her but her hips rock against mine, and she begs me to go faster, to fuck her harder.
“Don’t think this is the end of things, angel,” I murmur in her ear. “I am going to fuck you in my bed like a proper gentleman. And once I’ve done that, I am going to fuck you in every room and on every surface so that there isn’t a spot in this place that doesn’t remind me of you and how good you feel wrapped around my cock.”
Every last muscle in her body clenches as she comes, a silent scream biting into my shoulder.
The sheer force of her orgasm causes me to come with her. I grip her hips hard as I spill my seed inside her.
Fuck, that was incredible. I don’t want to ever let her go.
I need to figure out how to make this a reality without destroying every single friendship I have.