26. Paige
Paige
Aiden carries me through the kitchen as though lifting a grown woman in hiking boots is a perfectly reasonable way to end a conversation about love.
I kiss him until he nearly walks us into the hallway wall.
“Careful,” I whisper against his mouth.
“I know where I’m going.”
“You just hit the baseboard.”
“I adjusted.”
His hand tightens beneath my thigh, and I laugh before kissing him again. The sudden joy of it startles me. I love this man. I said it, he said it, and the truth follows us down the dark hallway with my legs locked around his waist.
He nudges his bedroom door open, steps inside, and kicks it closed behind us. Only then does he lower me to the floor.
My boots touch the hardwood, but he keeps one arm around me. His other hand slides along my jaw as his gaze moves over my face.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That rarely ends well for me.”
“Your survival rate remains impressive.”
His mouth curves, but the question stays in his eyes. I could kiss it away. He wants me enough that he would let me, and I want him enough to forget every unfinished conversation until morning.
That is why I place my palm against his chest.
“Wait.”
Aiden stops immediately. His hand leaves my waist, giving me space without stepping so far away that it feels like retreat.
“What do you need?”
The question loosens the tension building beneath my ribs.
“I need you to understand why I’m here.”
“Because I carried you.”
“I could have escaped. You were distracted by my mouth.”
“Fair.”
I curl my fingers into his shirt. “I’m here because I love you, and I want tonight with you because I choose it. Saying I love you didn’t create an obligation to prove anything.”
His expression shifts, the teasing disappearing, replaced by something steadier.
“You don’t owe me proof.”
“I know.” I hold his gaze. “And tonight isn’t an answer about the cabin, Christmas, riding lessons, or where my books belong.”
“It’s tonight.”
“Yes.”
Aiden cups my jaw. “Then that’s all I’m asking you for.”
The certainty in his voice warms me more than the possessive edge ever has. He heard me on the porch. Whatever he wants tomorrow, he isn’t taking it from me tonight.
“I love you,” he says.
No question or expectation follows the words. He gives them to me and lets them stand.
I rise onto my toes and kiss him slowly. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
My fingers move to the buttons of his shirt, opening the first one and then the next. “Again.”
His breath warms my lips. “I love you, Paige.”
Hearing my name grounds the words, and the feeling that follows is a tremor through my bones. I slide my hands beneath his shirt and feel his muscles tighten beneath my palms.
He reaches for the hem of my shirt, but I catch his wrist.
“Slow.”
His attention locks on me. “You’re giving orders now?”
“I’m directing the pace.”
“That sounds like librarian-speak for bossing me around.”
“It is respectable.” I guide his hand beneath my shirt and place it against my bare waist. “I want to feel all of this.”
His thumb moves once over my skin. The touch is patient, but his control is a hard line in his jaw.
Then he hooks two fingers beneath my chin and waits until my eyes meet his.
“Look at me, Paige.”
“I am.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to undress me. Slowly.”
Aiden’s thumb brushes my chin. “Anything else?”
“Yes. I want your hands everywhere. I want to see you. And when I tell you to slow down, I need you to remember I mean it.”
“I’ll remember.”
He sinks to one knee in front of me and unties my boots. The sight of him on his knees for me loosens something in my chest, warm and heavy.
He draws off one boot and then the other, his palms smoothing over my calves before he rises. I finish opening his shirt while he lifts mine over my head. My bra follows, and his gaze moves over me with open hunger.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Then touch me like you mean it.”
Aiden cups my breasts and strokes his thumbs over my nipples. The touch is gentle enough to make me ache for more. He lowers his head and draws one into his mouth, sucking slowly while his hand teases the other.
I thread my fingers through his hair. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”
He lifts his head. “Fix it.”
I push his shirt from his shoulders and run my palms over his chest. His muscles tighten beneath my touch. I unfasten his belt, then stop with my fingers resting against the open waistband of his jeans.
“I love touching you,” I murmur.
His eyes hold mine. “I love when you do.”
I push his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips. He kicks them away, and I wrap my hand around his hard cock.
Aiden releases a rough breath. “Paige.”
“I like that sound too.”
“I’m going to make it hard for you to think of a comeback.”
“That seems unlikely.”
He kisses me as I stroke him. There is no rush in his mouth or his hands. He lets me feel the restraint in the careful pass of his tongue, in the slow drag of his palm down my back.
When he opens my pants, I step out of my pants and underwear. He guides me toward the bed until the backs of my knees touch the mattress, then waits.
“Lie down,” I tell him.
His eyebrows lift. “I thought you wanted me inside you.”
“I do. Eventually.”
Aiden stretches out on his back. I climb over him, settle beside him, and lean down to kiss his chest. My mouth traces the hard ridges of his stomach while my hand keeps moving over his cock.
His fingers slide into my hair without guiding me.
I stop above him. “You’re being very good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m enjoying your restraint.”
“You enjoy testing it.”
“That too.”
I kiss the tip of his cock and feel his stomach contract, but I move back up his body before he can decide I have tested him enough.
Aiden catches my face between his hands. “Tease.”
“I said slowly.”
“You did.”
I stay over him and kiss him, my body stretched along his while one of his hands moves between us. His fingers slide through my wetness and circle my clit.
I moan into his mouth.
“That’s what I want,” he says, his voice low.
“My excellent verbal skills?”
“Hearing you. Knowing what feels good.”
His fingers move lower and ease inside me. I shift my knees wider around his hips, holding his gaze as he strokes with deliberate care.
“More pressure.”
He curls his fingers, finding the pressure that pulls a gasp from me.
“There?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me again.”
“I love you, Aiden.”
His face changes, the heat still there beneath something softer. “I love you too.”
He kisses me as his thumb circles my clit. Heat coils low in my stomach with every unhurried stroke, but I catch his wrist when the tension begins to climb too quickly.
His fingers stop. “What do you need?”
“You inside me.” I wrap my hand around his cock. “I want to stay right here, looking at you.”
I slide lower until I’m straddling his hips, then wrap my hand around him and guide him between my thighs.
“Let me set the pace.”
“It’s yours.”
I guide him to my entrance and lower myself a fraction at a time. The stretch fills me so slowly that every inch demands my attention.
His jaw tightens. “You okay?”
“Perfect.” I sink deeper. “Keep your hands on me.”
His palms close around my hips without pulling. I take the rest of him and stop with my body sealed to his.
“Fuck, Paige. You feel so good,” he says.
I lean down until my chest covers his and our mouths are inches apart. “Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
I begin to move, lifting barely enough to rock forward again. The shallow rhythm keeps him deep while my clit drags against the base of his cock. His hands travel from my hips to my back, holding me close without taking over.
“Yes, Paige. Just like that.”
I circle my hips and find an angle that sends pleasure curling through me. Aiden tries to follow with a small upward thrust.
“Stay still,” I breathe.
His muscles tense beneath me, but he obeys.
“Still testing my restraint, Paige?”
“I enjoy knowing you’ll listen.”
“Always.”
The word lands hard enough to make my heart stumble. I answer with another slow roll, my forehead against his as I chase the friction building between us.
“I love seeing you like this,” he says.
“Then keep watching.”
His eyes stay on mine. I move faster without adding distance, grinding against him while his cock remains buried deep. Pleasure spreads through my stomach and thighs until my legs begin to shake.
“Tell me,” he says.
“I’m close. Hold me tighter.”
His arms lock around my back. The pressure between us builds with every circle of my hips.
“I love you,” he says against my lips. “All of you. Every stubborn part.”
Release crests, then breaks through me. My body pulses around him, and I hold his gaze while pleasure radiates through me.
“Aiden.”
“I’ve got you.”
I keep rocking until the last tremor passes, then brace my hands beside his shoulders. “Now move.”
His control slips. He thrusts up into me, rougher now, and I take each stroke without looking away.
“Come for me,” I say, my voice breathy. “Let me see you too.”
He drives deep and comes inside me with my name a harsh sound from his mouth. His body shudders beneath mine, and I hold him through it until he goes lax beneath me.
Aiden kisses me once, then again, softer each time.
He eases out of me and lies down beside me. I turn toward him, and he pulls me close until our bare legs tangle beneath the sheet.
The sheet cools the sweat along my spine, but his palm keeps tracing warmth back into my skin.
His hand moves along my back. Mine rests over his heart. For once, no joke makes the moment less intimate.
We lie face-to-face, quiet and unguarded. For tonight, this is enough. His hand continues its slow path along my back while I trace the edge of his collarbone, content to stay like this until the rest of the world remembers we exist.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“You’re already taking advantage of my weakened condition.”
“I made you come. I didn’t impair your judgment.”
“Debatable.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Would you stay here more often?”
“I stay here.”
“Sometimes.”
“You want to critique my attendance record?”
“I want more mornings with you.”
Warmth tightens into caution. I lift my head and find him watching me with the same steady focus he gives every problem he plans to solve.
“How many mornings?”
“Most of them.”
There it is. One night becomes most mornings, and most mornings become the life he has already begun arranging around me.
“Aiden.”
“I’m asking.” His thumb strokes my hip. “Can you imagine waking up here most days?”
“With you?”
“With me. In this house. Josie down the hall.”
I can imagine it too easily. Sleepy kisses. Coffee on the porch. Josie climbing into bed with a book while Aiden complains that six in the morning is an unreasonable hour for dragons.
I can also imagine looking around one day and realizing my cabin belongs to someone else, my quiet hours have been folded into a family schedule, and every choice that built my life has been traded for a shared calendar.
“I can imagine more mornings,” I say. “I’m not ready to give up my cabin.”
“You don’t have to do that tomorrow.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
His thumb stops against my side. “Then tell me what you’re saying.”
“I love you. I want you, and tonight was everything I wanted it to be. I’m saying I haven’t decided that loving you means I should live here most of the time.”
He studies my face. “Do you think you’ll want that eventually?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about marriage?”
I blink. “Are you proposing while naked?”
“No.”
“Good, because I expect pants and an excellent speech.”
He gives a quiet laugh, but the question remains between us.
“I don’t expect you to plan a wedding,” he says. “I want to know if you can see one.”
“I can picture it. I can picture a dozen possible lives with you.” I slide my hand along his jaw. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to choose one of them tonight.”
“Tonight,” he repeats.
“Yes.”
Aiden nods once. “I can give you time.”
The answer offers little reassurance. The future sounds already decided, with Aiden graciously allowing me a longer route to reach it.
“I’m not asking for an extension on a deadline.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re hearing ‘later.’ I’m saying I honestly don’t know.”
His jaw tightens before he leans in and kisses me softly. “I hear you.”
I want to believe him. “Okay.”
He reaches toward the lamp, but I catch his arm.
“Come back.”
Aiden turns off the light and settles beside me. I fit myself against him, my cheek over his heart and his arm secure around my waist. He kisses the top of my head.
“I love you,” he says, his voice a low rumble by my ear.
“I love you too.”
His thumb moves slowly over my wrist as the room falls quiet. Several minutes pass, and his breathing settles into the careful rhythm of a man pretending to sleep.
I stay still against him, just as awake.
I know what he heard: not yet. But that wasn’t the answer I gave him.