And not just any goddamn dream. Not just a made up fantasy. I dreamt about the first and only time we ever had sex, something that’s imprinted so deep in my memory that I can recall every single second of it with vivid clarity.
That’s why it felt so real.
That’s why I’m literally on the verge of coming right now.
I want to groan in frustration, but I press my lips together to keep from making a sound. Arousal is flooding my veins, a consuming need turning my lower belly hot. I’m half tempted to slide my fingers under my panties and finger myself hard and fast until I come to an image of Aiden taking my virginity, his cock slamming into me.
The even more insane part of me wants to wake him and say nothing, just slip his cock inside me and ride him until it hurts. I want to show him what we had once, and to punish him for ruining it.
It’s not like I’m inexperienced. I’ve been with a few men in college, although none of my relationships were ever serious or long-lasting. I tried different things, met different people.
But nothing ever compared to the experience I had with Aiden. Not because we were both magically great at sex—we were teenagers—but because of everything else. There was something about that night with him that made me come harder than I ever had before, and if I’m honest, harder than I ever have since.
I was in love. I gave all of myself, and everything felt so real, so raw. I wanted him so badly.
But no matter how amazing it was, what came after was the worst thing I’d ever experienced.
He held me and kissed me, made me feel special and adored.
Treasured.
Wanted.
And then the next day, he hung the sheet up in the cafeteria at school, where every single student saw it during lunch period. He wrote my name on it too–the words “Rose Donovan is a whore” scrawled in red right beside the spot of blood I hadn’t even noticed at the time.
I was humiliated. Crushed.
It broke my fucking heart.
I look over at Aiden, back in the present, reality closing in. No matter how often the good memories keep coming back, no matter what emotion I sank into him, I can’t fall for him again.
I know he’ll hurt me just like last time.
Only this time, I won’t recover from it.
CHAPTER12
Aiden
When I wake up, I immediately know it’s early. My bedside clock stares at me, mocking, the numbers far too small for the pounding in my head.
I’m hungover as fuck, and I hate it.
Last night, I went to Tír na Nóg after the hospital for a drink, not wanting to go back home and see Rose. I meant to wander the club floor to distract myself, trying not to brood.
Instead, I shut myself in the office with a bottle, then drank until I lost the point of why I’d gone there in the first place.
Ana offered me a dance. She likes me, everyone knows that, even though Lachlan has a rule against hooking up with staff. Don’t fuck where you do business, or whatever the hell his motto is about that shit.
But it wasn’t my brother’s rule that made me turn down Ana. I just didn’t want a woman to touch me.
Well, that’s not true.
There isonewoman I want to touch me. And only one.
Rose.
I crave her softness, her sweetness. Her scent.
