Chapter 24 Aidan
AIDAN
The bedside lamp casts the room in a soft orange glow as I switch it on and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I was hoping the dim light would make it harder for me to see Iris, but all it does is make the atmosphere more intimate. Romantic, almost.
And when she pads into the room in cozy blue pajamas, I can’t stop my gaze from following her.
They’re PJs, and not even slightly revealing, but an ache stirs in my chest. Iris tries hard to keep it together, to show the world she’s fine, but I know her well enough now.
I know the real Iris underneath, soft and unguarded, like this.
The woman I met at Marco’s. The woman I wasn’t supposed to see at her apartment.
The woman I’m falling for.
And when she climbs into bed beside me, separated by a wall of pillows, it takes everything in me not to reach for her. God, the way it felt to kiss her in that boutique. And in the car I hadn’t meant to pull her into my arms, but she was so close to tears, I couldn’t stand it.
She says nothing as she snuggles under the covers. I switch off the lamp, cloaking the room in darkness. The wind howls outside, and I should go to sleep, but the bed is uncomfortably small, smaller still with the pillow wall.
With the woman I so desperately want only a foot away.
“Thank you for what you did in that shop today,” Iris whispers in the dark. My heart jumps as I think about the kiss again. The way she responded so eagerly, like she was as desperate for it as I was.
“You’re welcome, Cupcake,” I say thickly.
The mattress shifts as she wriggles onto her side to face me in the darkness. “I wish…” she trails off, and it’s not until she speaks again that I realize I’m holding my breath. “I wish it could have been real.”
I press my eyes shut, swallowing hard. I should protest, should tell her it can’t be. Remind her that I’m her boss.
Instead, I murmur, “Me too.”
Silence fills the room, and I begin to think she didn’t hear me, but then the top of the pillow wall vanishes as Iris tugs it away.
“I don’t want to be sensible,” she whispers.
My pulse surges as I feel her warmth. I don’t want to be sensible either, but I can’t switch off the rational part of my brain. The part that reminds me she works for me, in a job she’s been forced into by her father. That she’s only twenty-six.
“Iris,” I say gently, and feel her stiffen at my tone. “Baby…” Shit, that’s not helping things. I breathe out, deciding to be honest. She deserves that much. “I want you so badly, it’s killing me. I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”
She’s quiet, processing this. “Really?” she asks at last.
“Really.”
“Even when…”
I know what she’s asking. If I wanted her when we first worked together, when we argued and I was a jerk.
“Even then.” I reach out in the darkness to stroke her hair. “The way I feel about you has only grown.”
“God, Aidan,” she says, wriggling closer, but I stop her.
“You’re young, sweetheart. So much younger than me.”
“I know.”
“And… you’re vulnerable. I don’t… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Vulnerable?” she echoes, and I can hear her frown. “How?”
“The situation with your father…”
“So, it’s him you’re worried about? Your job?”
“No,” I murmur, surprising myself. It’s not that I’m not worried about losing my job by getting together with the boss’s daughter, but it’s getting harder to believe John’s promises about me making partner.
With every ludicrous assignment he sends me on, it becomes clear how little he respects me, and it’s harder to respect him in return.
“But… I know it’s difficult for you at work. ”
“For God’s sake.” She huffs quietly. “Yes, I struggle sometimes, but I’m not some delicate snowflake you need to tiptoe around.
” There’s movement on her side of the bed, then her lamp flicks on.
She leans on one elbow, staring down at me.
“If you don’t want to be with me because of your career, I can respect that.
” Her jaw tightens. “But don’t baby me. I don’t need your pity. ”
Guilt seeps through me as I think of Sophie.
That’s something she’d say, and maybe they’re both right.
Maybe I’m too protective, and that makes it harder for me to see Iris objectively.
I think of all the ways I’ve viewed her as fragile, like with her father, or those women today, but just as frequently she’s shown me her strength.
She stood up to me when I was too harsh with her.
She’s executed amazing ideas at work when given the opportunity.
And the way she spoke to those women today was admirable. She’s anything but weak.
“You might think you’re taking advantage of me,” Iris continues, lifting her chin, “but you’re the first person to actually respect me. My thoughts, my creativity, my struggles. My desire. You’re the first person to actually see me.” She swallows, her blue eyes fierce. “That’s what I want, Aidan.”
She reaches for me, hand warm as she presses it to my heart, even through my Henley.
My pulse accelerates against her palm as her eyes search mine.
She’s not wrong. I’ve had every opportunity to take advantage of her, and I haven’t.
Logically, I know that’s not what I’m doing.
Not when all I want is to make her smile.
Make her happy. Make her feel good, feel seen, feel safe.
Feel loved.
My stomach ripples. That’s what I really want. To love her. That fucking terrifies me.
But she’s also right about something else: I respect her. And that means no longer feeding her these bullshit excuses. It means giving in to what we both want. Letting myself fall.
Truly fall.
“Iris,” I whisper.
The ache inside me grows so intense that I can’t fight it anymore. I shove the pillows out the way, tugging her against me. Her warm breath ghosts over my lips, and she closes the last inch between us, pressing her mouth to mine.
This time, there’s no relief, only hunger.
Her hands twine in my hair, tugging on the strands, and heat bolts through me.
My cock stiffens between us, and I pull myself away with great effort, needing to check one last time.
This isn’t some random hookup in a bar, a moment of lost control in my office.
It’s a choice we’re making, and I know, for me at least, that it will change things.
That I won’t be able to go back to the way things were before.
That if I’m going to actually do this, then I’m going to do it properly.
“Are you sure you want this, Cupcake?” I ask, voice rough as I stroke her flushed cheek. “Because once we do this, there will be no going back. I won’t just be your boss anymore, you get that?”
She nods, eyes wide as they burn into mine. “What will you be?” she whispers.
“I’ll…” Shit, I don’t know. I don’t know the right words. “I’ll be yours.”
Her breath rushes out, and she leans in to press her mouth hard to mine.
“Yes,” she rasps between wet, urgent kisses.
“Yes, that’s what I want. For you to be mine.
My…” She draws away to meet my gaze, suddenly shy as she trails off.
It takes me a moment to realize why, and that’s when the right word hits me.
Daddy. She wants me to be her Daddy.
Fuck.
“Yes, baby,” I say, cradling her face. “That’s exactly what I’ll be.” I don’t need to say the word, not when we both feel it. She needs me to be the strong, kind, loving man she’s never had in her life. Not her father—her partner.
And it’s everything I could want.
My chest fills with emotion as I take her mouth again in a slow, deliberate kiss, fingers tangling in her hair.
Her lips part, tongue lapping eagerly against mine.
She wastes no time, shoving the covers aside to straddle me in bed, hands tugging impatiently at my Henley.
I let her pull it over my head and toss it aside, and her gaze devours my torso, lips parted and eyes hazy.
“Aidan, God. You’re…” She breathes out hard as she gazes down at me. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
I chuckle, loving the way she leans in to trace the curve of my shoulder, fingers warm as they trail across my pecs.
I work out most days, but that doesn’t turn back the clock.
Doesn’t erase the gray peppered in my chest hair.
But as Iris rakes her fingers through it now with a low hum of appreciation, her eyes dark and hungry, I feel like a fucking God.
I think back to what she said in that boutique this afternoon—I like that he’s older.
It’s fucking hot—and realize how much she meant it. She meant every word.
Fuck.
I reach for the buttons of her pajama top, undoing them slowly, breath catching when I realize she’s not wearing a bra.
“Jesus Christ,” I grit out, taking in her soft, creamy breasts, the pink buds begging for my tongue.
She slips the top off, and I lift my head to suck a nipple into my mouth, sliding my hands up her back as I do.
She arches in my arms, skin warm and smooth under my hands, nipple tightening in my mouth.
“Yes,” she whispers, shifting against my thickening cock. It sends a rush of heat through me, and my fingers tighten on her back. I have to remind myself to be gentle.
She wriggles down a little, dropping her gaze to the erection straining against the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I watch as she tugs the elastic down, exposing the red-purple head of my cock.
“Fuck,” she breathes, staring down as it throbs. “I’ve missed it.”
A laugh rumbles in my chest. “Is that right?”
She bites her lip, nodding. Her long hair slides over her shoulders as she does, covering her breasts, but she looks so beautiful I don’t mind.
“I’ve missed the taste of you.” She licks her lips as she looks at me. “Can I—”