Chapter 26
twenty-six
AIDAN
The soft creak of the mattress stirs me, pulling me from my haze of sleep. Isla might sleep like the dead, but I don’t. Not ever since she was born.
I keep my eyes closed, but I can feel Lucy moving beside me, trying not to shake the air around her. She’s always so damn sweet, even now, tiptoeing around not wanting to disturb a moment of peace. What she doesn’t get is that she’s the peace.
I crack one eye open just as she swings her legs off the side of the bed.
Her back catches the light, pale and soft against the shadows.
Her hair’s a wreck, wild strands falling across her neck, and there’s a red mark on her shoulder, a reminder of where I left my hand while we slept.
She doesn’t look like she’s been up all night.
She looks like the damn sunrise. Beautiful, without even trying.
“You sneaking out on me, lass?” I tease, my voice rough with sleep.
She jumps, head spinning around to meet my eyes. Her cheeks flush, a soft pink creeping up to her ears. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispers, hands twisting in her lap.
I push myself up onto one elbow, a lazy grin tugging at my lips. “You think I’d let you slip out of here without a proper good morning?”
Before she can say anything, I reach for her. My fingers find her wrist, just firm enough to pull her back toward me. Her soft, airy laugh hits me right in the chest.
She slinks back under the covers, and my hands move over her, my lips trailing against her skin, nothing rushed.
I’ve spent so long pretending I didn’t need this.
The heat of someone’s body pressed close.
The way a woman feels wrapped around me, pulling me under, reminding me I’m alive.
I thought I’d trained it out of myself, buried the hunger so deep it couldn’t surface.
Now she’s here, and I’m desperate for more. Exactly what I was afraid of.
“I need to get home to change before work,” she sighs. “And I’m sure you don’t want Isla to see me sneaking out of your room.”
She’s not wrong. I’m not about to explain this shit to a five-year-old, and yet, the thought of leaving for weeks without being inside her again? That doesn’t sit right. I can’t do it.
My lips brush lightly against her neck. “Let me have you one more time.” I’m begging without wanting to admit it. “I can be quick.”
Probably too quick, considering it took every ounce of willpower I had not to explode the second I was inside her last night.
She laughs again, and damn it, I swear I’d give up anything just to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
What the fuck?
I’ll think on that later, because right now, her perfectly round tits are pressed up against me, and my dick is so hard it hurts. I need the memory of how she feels to get me through the next few weeks.
“Please,” she whispers, and that’s all I need.
We’re lying side by side, her face nuzzled against my chest as I push in slowly. Her tight, wet heat grips me, and I bite back a groan, teeth gritted to keep from losing it right there.
“Fuck, Lucy,” I groan. My hand rests on her ass as I move in and out at a leisurely pace. Her skin is smooth to the touch as I trail my fingers up her spine, tilting her head up so I can taste her sweet mouth.
My tongue sweeps over the seam of her lips, and she moans in response.
I’m dying to flip her over and take her until she’s screaming.
But at the same time, I’m struck by how perfect this is.
Her soft curves pressed against me, her warmth seeping into my skin, the quiet little whimpers she makes with each thrust. It’s driving me mad.
I’d hardly consider myself to be the gentle type, but with Lucy, I find myself wanting to take my time, to savor every moment, every sound she makes. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I thrust deeper, her body arching to meet mine.
“Aidan…” she breathes, and the way she says my name, like it’s something valuable, nearly undoes me.
I capture her lips, swallowing her moans as I pick up the pace, driving into her with more force.
Her leg wraps around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper.
She clenches around my cock like a vise, and it feels too fucking good.
I’m going to have to pull out before I can give her what she needs, because I forgot a damn condom.
I want to hear her gasps over and over again. She’s tightening around me, her body tensing. She’s close. I slip my hand between us, finding that sweet spot that makes her tremble.
“Come for me,” I whisper against her ear. “One more time, lass.”
She buries her face in my neck, muffling her cries as she comes undone. I hold her tight against me, feeling her pulse around my cock. It’s too much. Too fucking good.
“I need to pull out,” I groan, voice ragged. My hips jerk into her without meaning to. I can feel it building—every nerve screaming, every muscle coiled tight. I’m right on the edge, and I know if I push a second longer, I’ll lose it completely.
“No…” she breathes. “I’m on birth control. Please don’t. Don’t pull out. I don’t want you to.”
Goddamn it. I’m trying to be a halfway decent human being here and then she goes and says that.
That’s all it takes. I thrust deep one last time, holding her tight as pure lightning shoots down my spine. My body shudders against hers as I empty myself inside her.
For a few moments, there’s nothing but our frayed breaths mingling in the quiet room. I keep my arms locked around her, savoring the way her body molds perfectly against mine. Like she was made just for me.
Eventually, Lucy stirs and lifts her head. Her green eyes are hazy with satisfaction that makes my chest ache in a way I’m still not ready to examine too closely. That wasn’t just sex, though, and that scares the hell out of me.
The sound of tiny feet skittering down the hallway slams into the moment like a wrecking ball.
Lucy’s eyes go wide, panic flashing across her face.
I’m up before I even think about it, throwing myself out of bed and grabbing the nearest pair of sweatpants off the floor.
Lucy’s already yanking the covers over her head, vanishing beneath the sheets.
“Daddy?” Isla’s sleepy voice comes from the other side of the door, followed by a soft knock.
“Just a minute, love,” I call back, my voice steadier than I feel. My adrenaline’s kicking in hard. I throw on a T-shirt and glance back at Lucy. She’s tucked herself up in the duvet, only her wide eyes peeking out, looking both mortified and amused.
I open the door just enough to slip through, making sure to close it behind me with a little more force than necessary. Isla stands there, all messy hair and princess pajamas, rubbing her eyes.
“What’s up, little storm?” I ask. “It’s still a bit early, aye?”
She looks up at me, her bottom lip wobbling just a bit. “I had a bad dream,” she mumbles. “Can I sleep with you?”
My heart stutters. I want to pull her right into my arms, let her crawl under the covers and fall asleep with me. But shit, not with Lucy in there.
I drop to one knee, meeting her at eye level. “How about we go downstairs, and I’ll make you some hot chocolate?” I suggest. “Then we can snuggle on the couch and watch cartoons until it’s time for breakfast. Sound good?”
She nods, her eyes lighting up at the mention of hot chocolate. I scoop her up, her small arms instantly wrapping around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder. As I carry her downstairs, I can’t help but think about Lucy in my bed. I hope she understands.
I set Isla down on the couch once we’re in the living room, wrapping her in a blanket and putting on her favorite cartoon. Her expression already looks lighter, bad dream forgotten.
“Hot chocolate coming right up,” I say, ruffling her hair before heading to the kitchen.
As the milk heats up on the stove, my thoughts keep drifting back upstairs to Lucy.
I can picture her there, all tangled up in my duvet, hiding like she’s trying to melt into the bed.
I can’t help but huff a quiet laugh. I’m going to have to figure this out without making things more awkward than they already are.
I carry the hot chocolate to the couch, setting it down in front of Isla. She flashes me a grin. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“Anything for you.” I lean down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be right back. Just going to check on something.”
She doesn’t even look up, already lost in the colorful chaos of the cartoon. I slip away, my steps soft as I make my way back upstairs.
When I reach the bedroom, I ease the door open, slipping inside without a sound. Lucy’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now. Her hair’s still a mess, and her face is caught between embarrassment and something else, like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or keep hiding.
“How’s Isla?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“She’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Hot chocolate and cartoons work miracles.”
She nods, offering me a soft smile. “I should go,” she says, standing up, a little reluctant. “I really do need to get home and change before work.”
I know she’s right, but I hate it at the same time. “I’ll walk you out.”
We move silently down the stairs, careful to keep our steps quiet. At the front door, I hesitate. My hand lingers on the handle, not sure of what to say.
She solves the problem for me, rising on her tiptoes and leaning in to press a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Have a safe trip,” she whispers. “I’ll…see you when you get back?”
I know I’m an ass for not defining whatever this is with her before I leave, especially after last night.
It’s suddenly hitting me that this isn’t like the other times I’ve left for a rotation.
Before, it was just Isla I was leaving behind.
My little girl who I’d kiss goodbye and promise to call, whose drawings I’d tuck into my bag to tape up in my bunk. That was hard enough.
Now there’s Lucy. Lucy with her soft skin and quiet laugh and the way she fits against me like she was made to be there. Lucy, who I just had in my bed, and somehow, I think, snuck into the parts of me I’ve kept locked down for years.
I’m leaving her, too.
I swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’ll call you while I’m gone.”
I want to say more, but the words jam in my throat. What am I supposed to tell her? That I’m already dreading the empty bunk on the rig? That I’ll be counting down the days until I can touch her again?
Her eyes search mine for a second, like she’s looking for some kind of confirmation or clue that I mean it.
Finally, she nods, her smile a little sad before she slips through the door.
Her chestnut hair catches the morning light, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
As she reaches her car, she turns and gives a small wave.
I raise my hand in return, feeling something twist painfully in my chest.
I close the door quietly behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. I let out a long, slow breath. The house feels emptier now. Colder.
Three weeks is going to be brutal.
There’s no going back to pretending I don’t want this. The way she handled Isla showing up, the way she didn’t bolt the second things got complicated—it’s more than I ever thought I could ask for.
For now, though, I have to push all that aside. My job is simple today. Be Dad. Make pancakes. Watch cartoons. Hold my daughter tight before I leave.