Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DEAN
It’s been pure torture, watching Aubrey come and go with her friend since Friday evening and not being able to take her into my arms.
Our kiss has my insides tied in knots. I want more. One kiss was enough to leave me completely addicted, yet somehow, it was not nearly enough to satisfy the ache that’d been building inside me for weeks.
Aubrey just went downstairs to see Sydney off, and my body is tense with anticipation at the simple thought of finally being alone with her.
I look over at Liana, who is currently enjoying a little ride in her swing.
Well, I guess we’re not entirely alone.
The ding of the elevator tells me Aubrey is back.
She steps into the penthouse with a noticeable change in her demeanor. The bright smile she wore all weekend is gone, replaced by something quieter as she comes to a stop behind the couch, where I’m sitting.
As if she doesn’t know what to say to me, she turns to Liana. “Mind if I give Liana her bedtime bottle and get her in bed?” she asks over her shoulder.
I stand up from the couch. “I don’t mind at all, but you know you don’t have to. It’s still your time off.”
She turns to face me but seems startled to find me standing only a couple of feet away. Her eyes immediately drop to the floor.
“I know,” she whispers before looking back up at me. “I just … missed her.”
The words hit me with surprising force.
This woman has completely turned my world upside down, and after spending the weekend with her best friend, the first thing she wants is a few quiet minutes, rocking my daughter to sleep.
It shouldn’t affect me this much, but it does.
Something tightens painfully in my chest, a feeling that’s equal parts gratitude and something far more dangerous. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped imagining Aubrey as someone simply helping me raise Liana.
Without realizing it … I started imagining she belonged here.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod. “I’m sure she missed you too.”
Aubrey fiddles with her fingers as a small smile spreads across her face before she disappears into the kitchen to make Liana’s bottle.
I follow her in and lean against the island as I watch.
I start to get the feeling that she is ignoring me, like there is this shyness in her that wasn’t there her first day here.
With her back to me, she scoops in the formula and shakes the bottle before placing it in the warmer and hitting the button.
When she’s finished, she simply stands there, watching the little light on the warmer like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
Her fingers fidget together. Her weight shifts from one foot to the other. She still doesn’t turn around.
A slow smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I realize she’s nervous.
This confident, witty woman, who spent the last month teasing me over coffee every morning, suddenly can’t bring herself to make eye contact.
I should probably give her a little space. Instead, I push off the island until I’m directly behind her. Close enough that I can smell the faint floral scent of her shampoo.
I brace one hand on the countertop beside her, then the other. Without touching her, I quietly trap her between my arms and the island.
Her shoulders lift, and the small movement leaves barely any space between us.
I lower my head, smiling to myself as a loose strand of her hair brushes against my cheek.
She sucks in a breath and stands tall, which only presses her body up fully against mine. I suppress the urge to groan as her ass now rests on my dick.
“Miss Cooper …” I murmur near her ear.
She goes perfectly still.
“Are you”—I let the question hang there for a beat— “avoiding me?”
“N-no.”
The stutter makes me smile. “I don’t believe you.”
She finally turns her head just enough to glance at me over her shoulder. “I’m making Liana’s bottle.”
“Do you always stare at it while it warms?”
A tiny laugh escapes her. “I wasn’t aware you were analyzing me.”
“I was waiting to see how long it would take you to look at me.”
Her cheeks immediately flush. “I’ve looked at you.”
“Not once.”
“I have,” she says on a shaky breath.
I turn my head to the side. “When?”
“This morning.”
“That doesn’t count.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Who made up these rules?”
I smile. “I did.”
“Convenient.”
“For me? Very.”
She laughs, but I still sense her nerves.
I bring my lips back to her ear. “When Liana’s asleep”—I pause, enjoying the anticipation written all over her face— “come find me.”
She swallows. “Where?”
“My room.”
For a heartbeat, she simply stares at me, and then the corners of her mouth lift into the kind of smile that makes every ounce of patience I possess disappear.
“I’ll think about it.”
I grin. “No, you won’t.”
“Oh?”
“You’ve already decided.”
She bites her lip, trying to hide another smile. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”
“I’m hoping I’m right.”
Before either of us can say another word, the bottle warmer lets out a cheerful beep.
We both laugh.
“Looks like someone else has better timing than we do,” she says, reaching for the bottle.
I step aside, finally giving her room to move. “I’ll see you later, Miss Cooper.”
As she walks past me, she glances up through her lashes, her smile turning almost impossibly mischievous. “You just might, Mr. Ledger.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting up in my bed, leaning against the headboard, freshly showered, as I wait in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants.
The bedroom is quiet, except for the low hum of the city beyond the windows.
Every few seconds, I find myself glancing toward the closed door.
I check the clock on my phone for what has to be the tenth time. She’s probably still rocking Liana to sleep.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand and scrub a hand over my face.
This is ridiculous.
I’m a thirty-four-year-old man who’s negotiated billion-dollar contracts without my pulse changing.
Tonight, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hallway has me more anxious than any boardroom ever has.
I’m beginning to wonder if she is going to come find me. Maybe she’s not just nervous but second-guessing if she wants this.
The thought has my body tensing at the idea.
I close my eyes, trying to convince myself to stop listening for the slightest sound outside my door.
Then she appears at my door in her too-short pink shorts and white tank top. Her hair is down in loose waves, and her makeup is gone.
I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.
Her hands once again seem to hint to her nerves as they fidget in front of her legs.
I throw my legs over the side of my bed to stand, then take a couple of large strides until I’m standing in front of her.
I reach for her hands, threading my fingers through hers before gently drawing her the rest of the way into my room. Once she’s inside, I ease the door shut behind her.
The quiet that settles over the room is almost deafening.
She’s close enough now that I can hear the slight hitch in her breathing. My pulse is pounding just as hard.
Neither of us says anything. We don’t have to.
Her eyes drift around the room for the briefest second before finding mine again.
“You look nervous,” I say with a small smile.
“I am,” she whispers.
I take a step back until she’s leaning back against the door.
“Tell me”—I brace one hand against the wall beside her head, unable to stop looking at her— “did you wear this to drive me crazy?”
She bites her bottom lip, clearly fighting a smile, before her eyes slowly travel over my chest and down to the gray sweatpants. “I can ask the same thing.”
A low laugh escapes me. “So, you noticed.”
“I’ve just been trying very hard not to let you catch me looking.”
My smile widens. “That’s a shame.”
“Why?”
“Because I like it when you look at me.”
Her cheeks immediately flush. “You’re impossible.”
“No.” I shake my head gently, never taking my eyes off hers. “Just being honest, finally.”
The room grows quiet again, but this time, it isn’t awkward.
It’s the kind of silence that comes when two people have finally stopped pretending.
She smiles to herself. “I like you being honest.”
“You don’t want my full honesty, trust me.”
Her fingers graze my stomach, and my muscles tighten in response.
“Of course I do.”
I look up at her as her hands rest on my waistband, and something in me snaps as my dick becomes impossibly hard.
“You want my full honesty? You want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
She swallows hard and nods her head.
I shake my head in response. “You want to know that all I can picture right now is your hand slipping into my sweatpants and stroking my cock?”
The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks fly up.
I continue, “You want to know how many times I’ve stroked my dick to the thought of licking your pussy or sinking my cock so far inside of you that you don’t know whether to scream out in pain or pleasure?”
Her mouth drops open, but she says nothing.
“Told you, you don’t want my honesty, baby. Are you sure you …”
Before I can finish, her hand slips past my waistband into my pants, and her fingers wrap around my dick.
My breath catches in my lungs. I’m too stunned to do or say anything. Instead, I stand still and watch her face as her hand moves up and down my shaft.
She tightens her grip and continues.
“Fuuuck, Aubrey,” I say, barely able to bring my voice above a whisper.
Her other hand glides up my stomach to my chest while the other moves up to my tip, where her thumb smooths over me, bringing my pre-cum along with it.
My other hand hits the door with surprising force as I cage her back against it. My lips are millimeters from hers.
“That feels so damn good, baby.” I reach inside my pants and my hand over hers, following her movements for a minute, stroking my dick with her until I grab it and bring it out of my pants.
“But I don’t want to come all over myself in the first five minutes,” I admit.
I thread my fingers through hers as I reach our hands above her head. Then my lips capture hers in a slow, demanding kiss. She parts her lips and raises herself to meet my kiss.
The kiss sends the pit of my stomach into a wild swirl.