Chapter 36
thirty-six
LUCY
I’m baffled by everything that unfolded today.
When Aidan woke me up, I felt completely fine.
In fact, when I opened my eyes and saw him sitting beside me, I felt a heat surge through my body, a wild impulse to pull him closer, to tear his clothes off right then and there.
Totally inappropriate, given the heavy issue looming over us.
His scent is surrounding me, all woodsy and rugged, like the earth after rain, and it makes me forget everything but him.
But there’s a profound sadness etched into his features.
It’s as if something inside him has cracked open, revealing a deep well of confusion and fear that I’m not used to seeing.
I ache to reach for him, to take that weight from his shoulders.
Seeing him so raw, so unguarded, hits me harder than I expect.
I want to smooth away the lines of worry creasing his forehead, to kiss the tension from his jaw.
At the same time, I also understand that what he needs right now isn’t what I want.
“Talk to me,” I whisper. “What are you thinking?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I just keep thinking about what she wants. Why now? Isla’s five, Lucy. Five years of nothing, and suddenly, she shows up?”
The pain in his voice makes my chest tight. “Maybe she’s changed. Maybe she realizes what she lost.”
Aidan’s gaze drops to our intertwined hands.
His thumb traces circles on my skin. “When we found out Emily was pregnant, I was… I was happy about it.” A sad smile settles on his face.
“I thought we’d figure it out together, but she didn’t want a baby.
She didn’t want any of it. And this might make me an asshole, but she doesn’t get to just decide she wants to be a mother now,” he says, voice rough with emotion.
“What if she hurts Isla? What if she gets close to her and then leaves again?”
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight. You can take some time to figure out what’s best.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, with those storm-gray eyes that make my heart skip. “What do you think I should do?”
The question catches me by surprise. This is him letting me in, letting me help him through a major decision in his and Isla’s lives. I take a deep breath, carefully considering my words.
“I think…you should hear what she has to say, but on your terms. Somewhere neutral, just the two of you. I think until you understand what she wants, you should keep Isla out of it.”
“And if she wants to be in Isla’s life again?”
That’s the question that scares me, too. So instead of answering, I ask a question of my own. “What was she like? Before Isla.”
Aidan’s hand stills on mine. “Do you really want to know about her?”
The honest answer? “I don’t know if I necessarily want to… It’s more that I feel like I should.”
He nods slowly. “She was charming when she wanted to be.” His voice is distant, like he’s describing someone from another lifetime. “We met at a pub. I was working the rigs then, too, coming off a three-week stint. She was…vibrant.”
I listen, doing my best not to picture this beautiful woman who once had his heart.
“It was good at first,” he continues. “She was always restless, though. Always looking for the next thing.” He exhales sharply. “When she got pregnant with Isla, I thought things would change. I thought she’d want to settle.”
The muscle in his jaw works. “She tried, I think. For a while. Isla was four months old when I came home from being away for a couple weeks, and she was just…gone. Left a note saying she couldn’t do it anymore. That she wasn’t meant to be a mother and that she’d left Isla with my mum.”
I feel physically ill imagining coming home to an empty house, a tiny baby, and nothing but a note. Forsaking both him and Isla like that makes my blood boil, but I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to add my anger to his pain.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You don’t have to fix everything,” I reply softly. “You’re doing the best you can. And that’s enough.”
His eyes meet mine, a swirling mix of vulnerability and longing reflected in their depths. “I need you to know that what I had with Emily… It was nothing like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the end, we were only together for Isla’s sake.” He shakes his head. “I cared for her, sure. But I never felt for her what I feel for you.
“When Emily left, I was devastated for Isla, angry at the situation,” he continues, “but I wasn’t heartbroken over her.” His fingers tighten around mine. “With you, it’s different. Everything is different.”
“Aidan…” I whisper, not sure what to say.
“If I lost you, Lucy, it wouldn’t just hurt. It would rip me apart. I wouldn’t know how to put myself back together.”
The words land so plainly, so honestly, that everything inside me goes quiet.
All that prickly anxiety from Emily showing up is gone in one hit.
I look up at him, and he’s already watching me with a searching gaze.
I know without a doubt he’s not saying this to soothe me. He’s saying it because it’s true.
“Lucy,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he cups my face in his hands. “I love you. God, I love you so much it terrifies me. I’m so damn sorry you got pulled into this mess. You deserve better than—”
I press my finger to his lips, silencing him. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
The protest barely leaves me before his mouth is on mine, fierce and hungry, as if he’s been holding back for far too long.
His lips press against my mouth, his tongue stroking mine, stealing every breath I have.
I clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left.
The kiss is a collision—tender and rough, apology and promise tangled together.
Aidan moves one hand to my back. Fingers skim down my spine, igniting sparks. They dip beneath the hem of my shirt, grazing the sensitive skin at my waist.
All of a sudden, it’s as if my skin has become ultra-sensitive, every tiny movement and brush of his fingers stirring a restless ache within me. The sensation is overwhelming in the best way, sending shivers through me as my body responds to him in ways that feel almost too intense.
He cups my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt, his thumbs grazing over my nipples. The sensation is powerful, almost devastatingly so. My nipples tighten and peak, achingly sensitive, yet still craving more.
What is happening right now? It’s not just the heat between us, though that’s definitely playing a role here.
No, there’s this strange feeling like my skin has been ignited from within in the most exhilarating way.
Is this normal? Is this what it feels like when someone completely shatters your self-control?
I don’t get to wonder about it too long. His hands slide lower, skimming over my ribs and down to my hips.
“Lucy,” he breathes against my lips, his voice low and rough with need. My name on his tongue sends another shiver racing through me.
I can only whimper in response, completely lost in the sensations overtaking my body. It feels like every nerve ending is heightened, hyperaware of his heat, the hardness of him pressed against me.
His hands find the hem of my shirt and tug upward. I lift my arms to help him, our lips parting only briefly as he pulls the fabric over my head. The cool air rushes against my heated skin, but he’s right there, his warm palms gliding over my newly bared flesh.
I reach for him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, shrugging out of it impatiently until we’re finally pressed together, chest to chest, heartbeat to frantic heartbeat.
“I need you,” I plead, hardly recognizing the needy whisper as my own voice. “Please, Aidan.”
A low growl rumbles in his throat as he captures my lips again.
He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
I tilt my head back, giving him better access, a moan escaping my lips.
His hands find my breasts again, kneading and teasing, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core.
I’m trembling, my body wound so tight I feel like I might combust at any moment.
His mouth travels lower, blazing a path down my chest. He pauses to lavish attention on my breasts, drawing one aching peak into the wet heat of his mouth.
I cry out, my back arching off the bed as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud.
He gives the other the same treatment, sucking and licking until I’m writhing beneath him, my fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to me.
I’m going to come. Right here, right now. He hasn’t even touched me there.
My fingers tighten in his hair as the tension builds, coiling tighter low in my abdomen.
I’m trembling, my hips rolling unconsciously, seeking friction that isn’t there.
I’m dimly aware of soft, needy sounds escaping my throat, but I’m beyond caring.
All that matters is the sweet torment of his mouth.
He seems to sense my desperation as he takes my nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before soothing the sting with broad strokes of his tongue.
“Aidan,” I gasp. “Oh god, I’m so close.”
He hums against my skin in response. Slowly, torturously, he drags his hand over my leggings, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of my panties. I press against his fingers, desperate for more contact. He groans low in his throat, the sound sending another wave of arousal crashing through me.
“Christ, Lucy,” he groans. “You’re fucking soaked.”