Page 121 of Beneath the Quiet

I feel his thumb on my chin, pressing my face up, and I give in and raise my head, because how can I not? My heart slams into my throat from the intense stare in his stormy, grey eyes, swimming with a heat I haven’t seen before.

“I can’t…” He wets his lips. “I can’t not care about you, Mae. You need to let me in, just a little bit, and relax. I’m a grown man, and, apparently, it’s not in my nature not to care, even just a little bit, for the woman I sleep with and, fuck it, can’t stop thinking about.”

His thumb sweeps across my lips, down my throat, until he stops. He circles my neck, his skin on mine caressing me in slow circles, enough to turn my busy brain to mush. I bite my lip when he puts a little pressure on my windpipe, and something deliciously dark, primal even, settles between my legs. He takes a step closer and I widen my legs, inviting him to come as close as he wants. His nostrils flare at the invitation, and I sigh as he drinks me in.

“Do you understand? We fuck, yes, but we care for each other. You lean on me when you need me. I’m here for you.”

“You’re bending the rules. Again,” I breathe.

His lips pull up in a smirk.

“Rules need to be broken sometimes.” His face inches closer until our lips are only a hair’s breadth away. “Especially by good girls like yourself who always play by them,” he growls. “I think you need that, and that I’m the only one who can help you. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer but gives me a hard kiss that’s over before it begins. He groans, then releases me and takes a step away.

“Now, go upstairs before I change my mind and fuck you right here before you’re well enough for me to take you like you want me to.”

I widen my eyes and glance at the bulge in his jeans. He reaches down and rubs at it, teasing me. The ache between my legs intensifies, but I know he’s right.

I’m not well enough for the rough ride I want.

Instead, I hop down from the barstool and turn my back to him, being the good girl that I can’t stop being for him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Aidan

The minute I get home, I bury my head in work in my office, only it takes me much longer to wrap my head around the Excel sheets than usual. The black numbers bounce in front of my eyes. My mind wanders back to the way Maeve’s eyes darkened when I used my hand on her neck, and my cock strains against my jeans.

I wonder if the good girl wants to be as bad as I want her to be.

I tap my pen on my desk, the sound steady as I force my thoughts back on work. I’ve almost finished preparing everything we’ll need for our harvest celebrations when the season’s over. I mark down what we can do on our own, but I keep returning to the same conclusion.

I could use another pair of hands.

Or two.

My phone vibrates on my desk, and I raise my eyes in surprise at Maeve’s invitation to a video chat, but I’m not about to reject her. I lean back in my chair and press the green button on my tablet instead.

“Maeve.”

“Aidan. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

I drink in the sight of her on her bed, lying on her side in that dark-blue excuse of a pyjama top she had on this morning. The deep V of the top is askew, and my eyes zero in on the teasing hint of a dark nipple between the lace, peeking at me.

“I was about to take a break,” I lie and lean back in my office chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I couldn’t nap, though, but I finished reading my book and thought I’d see what you’re up to.”

She tilts her head and smiles slowly at me.

“Liar. You’re up to something.”

She huffs and grins, a teasing glint in her eyes. “No, I’m not.”

I prop my tablet on my desk.

“Your mind is on something dirty, isn’t it?” I jerk my chin at the book lying face-down on the bed. “You can tell me the truth.”