Chapter 27
twenty-seven
. . .
Ceci
The longer he stands there staring, silent, the more nervous I get. I don’t do nerves.
Hugging my belly, I try to angle myself to where he won’t see the scars. Tummy tuck. Brachioplasty. Thighplasty. Breast reduction and lift. I had the best surgeons money could buy, and four years later, there’s minimal scarring, but bared to him as I am… he can see everything.
And that terrifies me.
I’ve been with other men since losing the weight. Lights off. None of them have ever mattered the way Aidan does. If my body and scars turn him off…
No. I have to believe him. I have to trust him, just like he’s trusting me.
“Aidan.” I don’t know what I want to say. The words are on the tip of my tongue, yet I can’t quite verbalize them.
His Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, and then he closes the door behind him and starts forward. “Ceci.”
“I’m nervous,” I finally admit. “This is…”
“I know.” He reaches me and kneels on the edge of the bed, ducking down to kiss me.
He’s still fully dressed, and as I pull him down on top of me, I find myself enjoying how the fabric of his clothes brushes against my sensitive skin.
I don’t feel like he’s in control or taking advantage; we’re equals, despite the imbalance.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises. “Everything you need, I’ll give it to you. Anything you want.”
“I just want you.”
His face flushes with pleasure, and his eyelids flutter shut. “Yeah?”
Burying my face in his neck, I inhale the scent of his soap, that citrus and cedar that drives me crazy in the best way. Underneath it all lies the clean, fresh scent of his skin and a hint of musk.
Aidan tucks his hand behind my head, cupping my skull and threading his fingers through the hair at my nape. “I’m nervous too,” he murmurs against my temple.
I pull back. “You are?”
He nods, unashamed. “This means a lot to me. I don’t want to mess this up.”
My lingering fears crumble into dust at his honesty. He’s baring his soul, same as I am.
“You won’t. I’m here, I’m consenting, and I want this.”
I cup his chin, guiding his lips to mine. He lets out a soft moan against my lips, and I shift beneath him until his pelvis falls into the cradle of my hips. The hard length of his cock presses against me, and I rock against him, desperate for the contact.
I want this. I want him. Sex with feelings is such a foreign concept to me. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself care. Let myself fall.
But with Aidan, I’m tumbling head over heels, and I can’t stop it. Don’t want to stop it.
My hands tremble as they move to his shirt, unhooking the first button from its loop. I’m able to get three undone before he rolls off me, breathing hard.
“Naked,” I gasp out. “I need you naked.”
A deep, guttural noise rips from his throat, and he hurries to scramble out of his clothes. As much as I’d like to undress him myself, right now, expediency is the issue. We can take our time later.
I drink in the sight of him. Broad, firm chest. A smattering of ginger hair over hard, defined muscles.
Freckles dot his strong shoulders, standing in stark relief against his flushed skin.
He doesn’t have a six-pack; I count a full eight-pack of washboard abs beneath his body hair.
My fingers itch to touch, to run over the divots and grooves of his hard work.
And then my gaze drops to his cock. Long. Thin. Curved to the left. The head is an angry purple, the tip swollen. As I watch, a bead of precum blooms from his slit, and I lick my lips. I want to taste him. Devour him.
His big hand lowers to his cock, giving a firm tug. I want to be the one to touch him, to give him pleasure. I start to roll toward him, but while he’s on the other side of the bed, he turns to his bedside drawer and comes up with an unopened box of condoms.
I clear my throat. “Do you have lube?”
He nods, a furrow in his brow as he reaches for the bottle and holds it up.
“Perimenopause has thrown me for a loop. I need a little extra, uh, support.” It’s my turn for my face to flame. “It has nothing to do with you if I don’t get super wet.”
Aidan’s confusion fades. “Is there anything I can do to help? Something you like more?”
“Just be you. It’s not an attraction issue, it’s physiological.”
I take the box of condoms from him, tearing it open and removing a foil square from the strip. Squirming closer, I maneuver until I’m on my side, facing him.
I rip open the wrapper, finally, finally reaching for him and rolling it down his shaft. The hard, steely length of his cock feels like heaven in my hand.
His hand lands on my hip, steady, sure, as he rolls me onto my back.
He presses a soft kiss to my lips before kissing his way down my body.
My jaw. My neck. A soft kiss to the center of my collarbone.
Over the surgical scar on my left breast, then my right.
Lifts my arm and kisses along the scars running from armpit to elbow. The lines of my belly, hip to hip.
He settles between my thighs, his eyes fixed to mine.
“Tell me you want this. Want me,” he pleads.
“Wish,” I gasp. “Please.”
And when he finally coats his fingers in the lube, then runs them over my clit, my entire body comes alive.
He makes me feel seen. Wanted.
I shift beneath him, unabashedly throwing my leg over his shoulder, exposing the scars that run from my groin to my knees. Silently, I tell him exactly where I want him.
And he doesn’t miss the mark.
When his mouth connects with me, I jolt, then settle. My eyelids flutter, and I do my best to force them open. To watch as his smile kisses my cunt. To commit this to memory.
Aidan slips a finger inside me, my natural wetness mixed with the added lubricant helping to ease the glide. I rock my hips, trying to take him deeper. I want more. Need more.
My hands fall to his head, and I run my fingers through his hair. It’s soft. Fluffy. The perfect length to clutch as he sucks the bud of my clit into his mouth, and my body hums.
That familiar pulse of attraction warring with affection runs through me. All of this is made better because it’s him, because we’ve established our intimate, emotional connection before ever taking it physical.
And as pleasure courses through me, as he brings me to the edge and then I tumble over it, I know this isn’t a one-time thing. This is real. I don’t think it’s possible to have my fill of this man. I’m going to want him again and again and again.
Sex is fun. It’s lighthearted, and it feels good, but if I never see the guy again after, I’m not hurt.
But sex with Aidan? Holy fuck, does this change things. Knowing how he feels about me, and how I do about him… Our long-standing friendship is only making this more intense.
I won’t be the same after this. I’m forever changed.
He gives me exactly what I need. Exactly what I want. I chase my release, grinding down on his hand and taking what he offers so freely.
“I—I—” The words won’t come.
“I know, Ceci,” he murmurs. “I know.”
When I go slack against the mattress, Aidan presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then crawls his way up my body.
It’s my turn to take control. I nudge him onto his back and run my hands over his torso, mapping the muscles that fascinate me so much.
I’ve never been with a professional athlete before.
My inner sports fan is thrilled, and I want to scream from the roof that fat, dumpy, brainiac Cecilia Ramos was able to pull a hotshot hockey player into her bed.
A giant fuck you to all the people who bullied me and belittled me for what I looked like.
Who derided me for my brain, for my drive.
But it’s the fact that it’s him. Aidan. Wish. The man I’ve slowly become obsessed with. He is the most important part. Not the labels that define either of us. It’s the substance that makes us who we are.
As powerful as a queen on her throne, I straddle his thighs.
My fingertips trail over his belly, memorizing the ridges and bumps of his abs.
His sharp inhalation spurs me to keep going.
I run my fingers through the coarse pubic hair at the base of his pelvis, then finally, finally wrap my hand around his condom-covered cock.
He’s hard, leaking into the rubber, twitching against my palm with every strong pull. I use my other hand to cup his balls, drawn up high and tight.
“Ceci,” he gasps. “Please.”
Leaning down, I brush my lips over his, and he lets out a grunt, deepening the kiss. His hands land on my hips, squeezing, but he doesn’t try to hurry me along. He lets me take my time. I’m in control here.
I didn’t know how much I needed that until right this moment.
And then all of a sudden, there’s a shift. I almost don’t recognize it.
His eyes squeeze shut, and he’s muttering under his breath, his body coiled tight with tension. And not the good type.
Beneath my touch, his cock softens, and a pang of hurt ricochets through me.
He doesn’t want me.
I’m not desirable enough for him.
We aren’t compatible.
I remove my hand from his dick, rolling off him.
Aidan swallows loudly, turning to face me. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says roughly.
It takes everything in me to refrain from rolling my eyes. He doesn’t need my scorn. I have enough of it pent up inside me.
He rolls onto his side, seeking out my hand. When I allow him to take it, he laces our fingers together. “I don’t know that I can do this. I haven’t done… this. Not in a long time.”
My eyebrow arches toward my hairline. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t been able to—” He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “Since I found out about my ex.”
“Aidan…”
“No. It has nothing to do with you. It really doesn’t. It’s not you, it’s me,” he repeats.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighs. “Because naming it makes it real. And I was really hoping it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Have you seen anyone about it?”
“It’s not physiological, it’s entirely mental.”
“Okay. Have you talked to anyone?”
He falls silent, which is answer enough.
“I’ve never been interested enough in someone to put in the work,” he finally says, his voice quiet in the still room. “I… I think it’s time.”
“Don’t do this for me,” I blurt out. “Do this for yourself.”
“I am. I will.” His eyes seek out mine, holding contact. “I want to be healthy enough for this to work. To be healed enough for us to try. Just… be patient with me. Please.”
“Always.” I lean forward and kiss him, his soft sigh soothing me more.
“And, um…” His Adam’s apple bobs with how hard he swallows. “I can still get you off in other ways. We’ve proven I can bring you there with my mouth. And I, uh… I could use toys.”
My eyes light up. “Oh really?”
He separates from me, and I mourn the loss. But he’s not going far. He rolls over and pulls out his nightstand drawer, coming back with a small vibrator.
I want to know what else is in there.
“What do you need to get off?” I ask him.
“This isn’t about me,” he replies.
“Except that it is. I want to make you feel good.” Unable to help myself, I trace my fingers over his abs, and his soft cock twitches. “Do you want my hand? My mouth? Or is it any touch that will make it happen?”
“I don’t know,” Aidan admits. “I haven’t tried to experiment much.”
“Do you have a favorite toy?”
He tenses.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” I’m quick to add. “Whatever it takes to get you there. All I want is to make you feel good.”
“You’re really okay with this?”
I set my hand on his chest, brushing my lips against his again. “Yeah, I am. There’s nothing to not be okay with.”
“I might not be able to…”
“Then you’ll get me off in other ways. Like you said, you’ve already proven that you can.” I kiss him again. “So let me take care of you. What do you need?”
“Right now, I just want to hold you,” he murmurs. “This is… a lot.”
He pulls off the unused condom, dropping it on the nightstand, then rolls back to me. “Can I hold you?”
Everything in me melts. “Yeah, Wish.”
When he pulls me into his arms, I hear a click deep inside me.
A missing piece of my personal puzzle slotting into place.
It feels so good to be pressed against him, to hear the thud of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering along my cheek.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do all of this,” he admits quietly.
My heart does this stupid, hopeful flip in my chest. “Sleep with me?”
His laugh rumbles beneath me. “Take you on a date,” he corrects. “Kiss you good night. Do all of it the right way.”
The right way.
I prop myself up on my elbows so I can see his face clearly. There’s no teasing edge in his eyes now. Just something steady. Certain.
“It was a blind date,” I point out gently. “You were basically tricked into going out with me.”
“And I’m already planning the next.” His hands slide down my back, settling at my waist like they belong there. “Friday. I’ll pick you up at seven. No take-backs.”
“You’re very confident for a man who just risked it all.”
He shrugs, but there’s a vulnerability in the curve of his mouth. “I don’t feel like I’m risking it.”
My chest tightens.
I lower myself back down, fitting against him like the space was made for me. His arms circle me without hesitation, holding me close, like he meant what he said.
Like he plans to keep me.
He presses a kiss into my hair. “Stay the night,” he murmurs.
I smile against his skin. “Okay.”