Chapter 36
thirty-six
. . .
Aidan
She doesn’t know. I’ve never said the words out loud.
They’re echoing inside my head, clawing to get out. We can’t go on without having an open, honest conversation.
And that’s fucking terrifying. What if she changes her mind? What if she decides this is a dealbreaker and ends it right here and now?
I don’t want to lose her. But I also can’t keep living on the edge of my seat, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the inevitable day where I’m too weird or stim too much or am just… too much for her.
The idea of telling someone, anyone, is terrifying. I’ve never considered telling even Hailey and Ryan. They probably wouldn’t judge me, but on the off chance they did, that it changes things, I can’t risk it. I love them more than anyone in the world, and I still can’t trust them. Not fully.
Nobody has ever mattered to me as much as Ceci does.
Not even my sister. I love Hailey, don’t get me wrong.
But I’ve always known that at some point, our paths would divert.
She would find a life partner and leave me alone.
And I was right; she’s found an excellent partner, and I couldn’t be happier.
Ceci is my best friend on top of being my partner. She knows things about me I’ve never told anyone else. I want to share my truth with her in a way I’ve never experienced before, and I finally feel safe enough to tell her.
But it’s risky. All day long, I’ve been on tenterhooks, anticipating the moment she realizes I’m not normal. Once I’m beside my teammates, it becomes obvious I don’t fit in. That I’ve been faking it, pretending I’m just like everyone else.
But I’m not. I can’t be. Nor do I want to.
“Aidan?” Ceci’s hand lands on my arm. “Are you okay?”
My throat works around a thick swallow, and I try to get the words out, but they’re stuck.
They choke me, strangle me, until I can hardly breathe and have to force back the inexplicable urge to cry.
Instead, I pace back and forth, running my hands through my hair like that will ground me, anchor me.
It only makes me feel more untethered. Unbalanced.
Her face creases with concern. “Babe, you can talk to me.”
I stumble over to the bed, sitting on the edge. She perches beside me like she’s ready to spring up at any moment. Her hands fold in her lap, clenched together, her anxiety obvious in the way she holds herself back.
“I—” My tongue swells in my mouth, and I fight the reflexive urge to gag. Every breath I take feels like it might be the last one.
This is going to change things. How can it not?
I don’t think I’m weak. I don’t think I’m lesser than. And I trust her. I’m crazy about her. But that doesn’t mean she wants to be with someone as not okay as I am.
“Aidan, you’re scaring me,” she whispers. “Is it something I did? Did you change your mind about us?”
That startles me out of my haze. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Then talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
And just like that, I open my mouth, and for the first time, I find myself sharing my truth:
“I’m autistic.”
The words rush from me, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to turn away in disgust.
Ceci cocks her head. “Okay?”
Her simple question makes my heart stutter. Okay? That’s all she has to say?
Where’s the revulsion? The pity? The you’re so broken, there’s no salvaging this?
“I’ve never told anyone before. I—I don’t even know for real. There’s not an official diagnosis. But I… I’m autistic.”
A wave of relief passes through me, a rip current threatening to carry me away. I’ve finally vocalized it.
“Aidan,” she murmurs, reaching for my hand. “Do you think this changes anything for me?”
“It might,” I croak.
“It doesn’t. Not one bit.” She cards her fingers through my hair, and I lean into her touch, seeking her comfort. “So you’re a little neurospicy. So am I.”
Lifting my head, I stare at her. “You are?”
“Raging ADHD here,” she says with a laugh. “I didn’t even know until about three years ago. Just raw-dogged it my entire life, self-medicating with sugar and caffeine. Then I found out, and it was life-changing.”
“I had no clue.”
“It never came up. But I’m not ashamed. It’s just a fact of my life.” She scoots closer, burrowing into me, and I wrap my arm around her. “So tell me how being autistic works for you.”
I blink a few times. “Huh?”
“It manifests differently for everyone. Sven doesn’t like to be touched. But you don’t seem to have an issue with that.”
“I have sensory issues. With fabrics especially, and also when there are a lot of people around, it’s easy to get overstimulated. Like earlier, when I kind of shut down.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “It also means I don’t always pick up on social situations. Like at the bar.”
“Or when I was trying to seduce you.” She grins, her eyes bright.
“Yeah. That too.” I choke out a laugh. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
“I’m not.” She touches her lips to mine, featherlight. “You just made me work harder for it. I like a challenge.”
My knee bounces, my body racked with shivers from the pent-up anxiety and adrenaline burning off my system. I’m cold, so fucking cold, and sweaty at the same time, and—
“Aidan.” Ceci’s hand lands on my knee. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I gulp in air. I want to believe her. I do. And yet…
“Let’s get ready for bed,” she murmurs. “Maybe you can hold me for a little?”
“You’d want that?”
“Yeah, baby, I would.” She tugs me to standing, then reaches for my shirt, slipping the first button from the loop. I discarded my tie when we got to the bar, still dressed in my shirt and suit pants. She’s in my jersey.
And fuck, do I like seeing her wearing my number.
Regrettably, I’m too keyed up to appreciate it fully. Or the way she strips my shirt off my shoulders, loosens my belt, and unzips my pants. The fabric whispers to the floor, and I step out of them, moving closer to her.
“Ceci?” My voice comes out in a harsh whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me. Her smaller body fits perfectly against mine. She’s still dressed, while I’m only wearing my boxer briefs, and the dichotomy makes me appreciate her that much more. Makes me want her that much more.
“For what?”
“For being you. For accepting me.”
She tilts her head back, gazing up at me. “I am who I am, and you are who you are. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. No what-ifs.” She leans into me, stealing my strength as much as I am hers. “I like you just the way you are.”
Stepping back, she reaches for the hem of the jersey, drawing it over her head. Beneath, she’s wearing a simple black long-sleeved shirt, and she strips that off too, then her jeans.
She stands before me in her dainty lace bra and panties, and I stare at her, dumbfounded. How in the hell did I get so lucky as to have this woman in my life?
For seven years, we sat on opposite sides of the phone, playing video games. Then a few weeks ago, our online world collided with our real lives, and now… I wouldn’t have it any other way. We would never be able to make this work if we didn’t have those years of solid friendship under our belts.
We collide like lightning, drawn together like moths to a flame. In an instant, my whole world narrows into this one, infinite moment.
I kiss her, or she kisses me, a frantic tangle of lips and tongues. The subtle smokiness of her perfume floods my senses, overriding the few parts of my brain that are still online.
Ceci walks backward, pulling me toward the bed. She falls onto the mattress and scrambles back toward the pillows.
I stay at the edge, drinking her in. Her soft body, the scars lining her arms and belly and thighs… All of it, all of her, drives me absolutely fucking crazy.
“What’s wrong?” She gazes up at me, concern on her face.
“Just trying to decide where to start.”
She giggles, the sound bringing a smile to my face. “Start here, with me.”
I crawl onto the mattress, making my way up to her. She reaches for me, pulling me on top of her. Her body feels like heaven pressed to mine, soft curves meeting my hard muscles. I don’t have to worry about being too heavy, about hurting her. She’s stronger than she looks.
Ceci pants out a moan as her legs wrap around my waist, her fabric-covered center hot as a brand against me through my boxers.
I want to take my time. To memorize every moment, to worship every inch of her.
The needy whimpers falling from her lips drive me higher and higher. Her hands land on my shoulders, then travel down my arms and over my back, like she can’t get enough of me. I feel the same exact way. There will never be enough of Ceci. Not for me.
She arches against me, dragging her heat against my hard cock. I’m throbbing, so close, so fucking close to the edge already.
The room grows thick with the musky scent of sex, of her and me. I want to slow things down or speed them up. I don’t know what I need, only that I need something, anything.
Ceci squirms beneath me, and it takes me a second to realize she’s shimmying down her panties. The silky-soft gold lace is damp from her arousal.
Well, if she’s going to, I should as well. Right? Isn’t that how this goes?
I shove down my underwear, my cock bobbing up to slap against my abs. A sticky trail of precum trails along my skin.
Before I can stop her, she reaches for my bedside drawer, the one where we keep the toys. I lunge for her, practically pinning her to the bed. My cock slides against her hot center, and she groans, her head falling back against the pillows.
“Lube,” she gasps. “We need lube.”
Reaching blindly into the drawer, I find the bottle and return to her. I’m about to slick my fingers when she takes the bottle from me, then pours a generous amount of the lubricant over her pussy and my cock.
“Do that again,” she demands.
I roll on top of her, pinning her to the bed with my body weight. She lets out a happy sigh, raising her arms over her head and crossing her wrists. This position puts all of her scars on display, and I lean down to kiss her triceps, right over the surgical marks.
And then I wrap my fist around her wrists, holding her captive like she so clearly wants. Ceci groans, the sound low and guttural.
My cock fits perfectly against her slit, and I grind against her so the head slides over her clit. Her eyes roll as she throws her head back, exposing her neck.
I bury my face there, licking and sucking at her soft, sweet skin. She tilts to the side to give me a better angle as her fingers dig into my scapulae, kneading the sore, sensitive flesh.
Her hips rut against mine. The lube and the friction are nearly too much. My eyes roll back, and I force a deep breath into my lungs, trying to calm the fuck down.
“Please,” she moans. “Aidan, I—”
“What do you need?” My hand tightens on her wrists. “What can I give you?”
“Just give me you.”
One of her hands slips down to my ass, pressing me against her more firmly. I grind my cock against her, keeping exactly the same rhythm.
And when Ceci moans again, her body going taut with her release, I’m flooded with a primal, bone-deep satisfaction.
All it takes is two more slides of my cock against her silky skin, and my orgasm hits me like a freight train. My release paints her pussy and inner thighs, marking her skin.
Breathing hard, I collapse onto her. Belatedly, I realize I’m still holding her hostage, and I release my punishing hold, rubbing her wrists to bring the blood flow back.
“Holy fuck,” she gasps. Her arms wrap around my back, holding me close. “That was…”
“Good?”
“Fucking great.”
Shit. I’m probably crushing her. I roll off her so we’re side by side, drawing her thigh over my leg. Before I know what I’m doing, I rub my release into her skin.
Her breath catches. “Aidan.”
“Hmm?” It takes monumental effort to keep my eyes open and on hers. The post-orgasm haze is fading, reminding me how exhausted I am.
But she shakes her head. “I should go clean up.”
Before she can slide out of bed, I do, warming a washcloth beneath the faucet. I quickly clean myself up and then wet a second cloth before returning to her, running the terrycloth between her legs, down her thighs, and over her pelvis.
Ceci reaches for me, pulling me down on top of her, the washcloth trapped between us. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, holding me close.
“That was hot as hell,” she says, before she kisses me.
I didn’t think. There wasn’t any time. I’m glad she enjoyed herself, but I wanted to try again. To finally sink inside her the way I’ve wanted to for so long.
I’m not ready yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. But I want to be. And that’s half the battle.