Pen Pal(25)

That compliment makes me feel as if gravity has ceased to exist, and the only reason I’m still tethered to the earth is that his arms are wrapped around my body. “Thank you.”

“Aw. Look at my bashful little bunny with her red cheeks.”

“Shut up before I kick you in the shin.”

Chuckling, he leans down and kisses me again. “Bashful and bitchy. My two favorite things.”

“Call me bitchy again and we’ll see how far you can walk with a ruptured spleen.”

He tries to muffle the sound of his laughter by pressing his face to the side of my neck.

I shove against his chest half-heartedly. “Jerk.”

“You don’t think I’m a jerk,” he says softly, then kisses me again, this time more deeply.

No, I admit to myself as his tongue delves into my mouth. No, sir, I do not.

We kiss until both of us are breathing hard and the little pulse of heat between my legs has grown into an ache. Then the guilt swamps me again, and I pull away, pressing my fingers to my lips.

Aidan searches my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

When I refuse to meet his eyes, he takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up so I’m forced to look at him.

“What is it?”

My mouth has turned dry. I moisten my lips and swallow. “I’m feeling a bit…” I clear my throat. “Uncomfortable.”

He seems surprised. “With me?”

“With doing this in my house.”

After a brief pause, he says, “Okay.” Then he steps back, releasing me.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No, I get it.”

He can’t possibly get it, but I give him points for trying. “It’s just that it was very recent. My separation from my husband.” I clear my throat again. “And I keep expecting him to walk in the door at any minute. It’s just weird for me. I’m sorry.”

“You can stop apologizing,” he says softly. “I said it’s okay.”

Cringing, I wring my hands together. “I know, but I can tell it’s not, and now I feel like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick. I’d kiss you again, but I don’t want to make it weirder for you than it already is. So here’s the deal: I’m gonna call my buddy Jake who owns a security company. He’s gonna come out and set you up with an alarm. In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, but after, I’m gonna get to work on that leak.”

He nods toward the kitchen and the buckets on the floor. “I won’t be able to start repairs until we get a break in the weather lasting more than a few days, but I’ll put up a tarp on the roof to stop more water from coming in and remove any wet insulation from the attic so you don’t get a mold problem. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Thank you. Oh, let me go get my checkbook—”

“One more fucking word,” he cuts in, “and you earn yourself a spanking.”

Startled, I stare at him. There’s no smile on his face, no trace of humor.

He’s completely serious.

I say tentatively, “Can I ask a question?”

He nods.

“Is it the checkbook I shouldn’t be talking about or did you just want me to be quiet in general?”

He presses his lips together and folds his arms over his chest. Now I can tell he’s trying to keep a straight face. He’s also trying to be intimidating, and he’s pretty much failing at both things.

He says sternly, “What I meant is that I’m not taking your money.”

“But we agreed—”

“One more word,” he interrupts again, this time quite loudly.

Mirroring his posture, I fold my arms over his chest and stare him down. “I didn’t have sex with you to get free roof repairs, Aidan.”

“No shit, Kayla. I’m still not taking your money.”

“Is this one of those macho man ego things? Do you really think I’m being emasculating by expecting to pay you for your time and expertise?”

“Yes and yes.”

I say flatly, “That’s nuts.”

He unfolds his arms, leans down into my face, and stares into my eyes. “Thanks for sharing your opinion on the subject. That’s the last time you get to do it. Mention money to me again, and you know what you’ve got coming.”

When I only stand there staring at him, he prompts, “Acknowledge that you know what you’ve got coming.”

“Why?”

“It’s called consent.”

I say haughtily, “I don’t consent to a spanking over money.”

“Don’t mention it again, and you won’t get one.”

“Remember when I told you I liked it when I wasn’t being irritated?”

Ignoring that, he adds, “But if you do mention it again, I’m considering you warned and fully informed of the consequences, regardless of whether or not you claim not to want it.”

I make a screwy face. “I think your logic is flawed.”

“How nice for you. Doesn’t change a thing.” He turns on his heel and heads toward the front door.

“Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”