Pen Pal(38)

“But I gotta be honest. I won’t be a rebound. I won’t be the guy you distract yourself with for a while to make yourself feel better, then walk away from when you do. So I think I should cut my losses now before I get my heart shredded because I can already tell you’re gonna wreck me if this goes on much longer and you leave.”

That knocks the breath out of me. I lie there staring up at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart, shocked by his honesty.

When I pull myself together, I discover to my surprise that I’m really freaking mad.

I say firmly, “No.”

Dark eyes burning, he stares at me. His silence makes me even angrier.

“You don’t get to decide how this is going to go before it’s even gone anywhere, Aidan. I understand not wanting to be a rebound, but you could just say, ‘Hey, we’ll take it slow,’ or ‘Let’s talk about your expectations here,’ but instead, you unilaterally decide you’re breaking up with me? Before we’re even officially an item? Fuck that. That’s not how this works. You can boss me around in bed all you want, but when it comes to making decisions about our relationship, we’re doing that shit together. I refuse to be a one-night stand.”

After a moment of blistering silence, he says gruffly, “It’s already more than a one-night stand.”

“Fine. A three-night stand. Whatever.” I glare at him until something in his eyes melts.

“Relationship? That’s what you’re calling this?”

“I said what I said. Deal with it.”

“Oh, bunny,” he breathes, a thrill in his voice, “you’re this close to getting the spanking of your life.”

I want to drum my heels against the mattress in frustration. And maybe scream a little, too. But I lie still with my lips pressed together and my nostrils flared, internally shouting curses at him.

Then I remember that I don’t have a single goddamn leg to stand on. My anger is misplaced.

He’s not the one holding back an important detail about their personal life here. That’s all me.

But then I remind myself that I have absolutely no idea what the man is or isn’t holding back. Other than that he owns a roofing company, has a friend named Jake he’s known since high school, and that he may or may not have unalived his own father, I know zilch.

Which makes this entire conversation all the more bizarre for both of us.

I close my eyes and exhale a hard breath.

Aidan commands, “Eyes on me, Kayla.”

I open my eyes and glare at him. “Oh, are we back to master and slave again? Pardon me while I go online to find a chiropractor to treat my whiplash.”

He drops his head and puts his mouth next to my ear. “Do you have any idea how hard I want to spank you right now?”

I can’t help myself. I smile. “The feeling is mutual.”

He rolls on top of me, smashing me into the mattress with his body weight.

“Oof!” I flail weakly at his back, slapping him. “You’re crushing me!”

“You love it,” he murmurs, holding my head between both hands and gazing down at me with hot eyes. “Now stop bleating and listen to me.”

I fall still, flinging my arms down to the mattress a little too dramatically, as evidenced by the quirk of his lips.

“Drama queen.”

“Tyrant.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am. And you like that about me.”

He waits for confirmation while I glower at his chin.

“Kayla.”

I know what that warning tone in his voice means. I exhale, rolling my eyes. “Okay, yes, I like it.” I can’t resist adding, “Usually.”

Chuckling, he kisses the tip of my nose. “Brat. As I was saying…” His voice drops to a whisper. “Thank you.”

Damn, he sure has a way of taking me by surprise. “For what?”

He shakes his head, which I take to mean I won’t get an explanation.

I say brightly, “Hey, I have an idea!”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you teach me sign language so that when you suddenly decide you don’t want to use your words anymore, we can still keep talking.”

My stare is pointed. His glower is dark. Then I smile at him because he obviously got my point, and I’m not really in the mood for more arguing.

I wrap my arms around his back. Knowing full well what the answer is already, I ask innocently, “So are you ending it with me or what?”

I can’t decide if his expression is admiration or aggravation. Maybe a combo of both.

He says bluntly, “You want me to?”

Crap. He turned it back around on me. “No.”

Searching my eyes for any sign of ambivalence, he says more softly, “You sure? It’s not too late to walk away from this.”

I’m unsure if it’s my imagination or not, but it seems as if there’s a vague threat buried in there somewhere. As if he thinks there’s an invisible line in the sand we haven’t quite crossed yet, but once we do, there’s no turning back for either of us.

I slide my hands over his shoulders and into his hair. Staring into his eyes, I nod.

“Say it out loud,” he orders.

“I’m sure.”

After a long period of silence, he pronounces, “Okay.”