Page 48 of His to Cherish
I couldn’t bring myself to budge, which might mean he’d move his arm, and I definitely didn’t want that.
I suffered in silence, one of my arms slightly cramped, with a smile that I tried to keep hidden. I didn’t want him to know how happy this was making me. And I still wasn’t sure how we’d ended up here. In my bed. My chest pressed to his side.
I just knew it felt like heaven.
Earlier, after we’d watched three hours ofAmerican Picker,a show both of us hadn’t seen before but found quite entertaining, I’d gone to the hall closet and came back to the couch with the pillow and blanket I’d used the night before.
Aidan had shot me an incredulous look that felt oddly threatening and asked, “You know what happened last night when I woke up and saw you asleep on the couch?”
I remembered. I remembered him carrying me to bed, tucking me close to him, and I still felt his lips brush against my temple. Fear of drool falling out of my mouth if I parted my lips made me press them firmly together. I nodded.
His lips twitched before he grabbed his overnight bag and took it to the hall bathroom. When he was halfway there, he called out, “You try sleeping on that couch tonight and I’ll do the exact same thing.”
I debated for a moment. From what I remembered, it felt really good to be carried in his arms through my house. How good would it feel if I was fully awake and he did it again?
Then I realized what he’d offered. A night to fall asleep next to him.
Decision easily made, I scurried to my own bathroom, washed my face, brushed my hair and my teeth, and thought,oh my god, oh my god, ohmygodohmygod.After I left the bathroom, my shoulders and neck jerked back when I saw his large frame lying on his back in my bed—head propped with my pillows.
Aidan Devereaux was in my bed.
Again. The second night in a row.
I did the only thing a girl could do.
I walked around to the other side, climbed in, lay on my side with my back to him, and pretended this was all perfectly normal.
He didn’t seem to like it so much, because he muttered something about being alone, which made my heart squeeze. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist, rolled me over, and pulled me against him.
That had been hours ago. Maybe only minutes. I’d lost track of time as I silently stared over the short, coarse black hair splayed across his chest. It was sexy. And I bet it was prickly. I bet when he moved that chest over a woman and that hair brushed against her nipples they hardened in delight.
I just couldn’t bring myself to reach over and find out how good it really felt.
His abs were divine—sculpted by someone who knew what they were doing when they created the most glorious male physique I’d ever seen.
I hadn’t been able to sleep. I didn’t want to close my eyes and have this night end.
Maybe it was stupid, but right then I was enjoying being a little bit stupid.
I felt the muscles in Aidan’s jaw begin working as he moved, and sucked in a sharp breath when his jaw brushed against the top of my head.
“He wanted you for me.”
I tensed. From my shoulders down my back to my toes, I felt every muscle go tight.
“What?” I choked out.
“Derrick.” His hand on my hip tightened, and then he moved his thumb back and forth slowly. I didn’t know if he knew he was doing it, but that small gesture sent sparks flying to my core, not too far from where his thumb was still moving.
Yeah…this was stupid.
“Told me to ask you out, don’t know how many times, but he did. Kid was always on me about the single moms who threw themselves at me, and he thought it was nasty and stupid. Said you were pretty and nice and you’d be better than any of them.”
I couldn’t name the emotion that filled me as he talked quietly, his thumb the only movement on my body. Part of me lit up in elation with the realization that hehadbeen flirting with me the past couple of years, and that he’d talked about me. That all those nights among our friends or at Fireside, where I thought I saw a spark of interest, I wasn’t wrong. The other part began to slowly wither. Because now it all made sense—the reason he stopped by my house that first day or came over, or why he kissed me—he was doing what his son wanted.
He was hanging out with me because Derrick had wanted it.
It had nothing to do with me or him or him needing me in order to get over his grief, or whatever fairy tale I’d created in my head.
