Pen Pal(52)

When he pinches my nipples, hard, I come in his mouth, shuddering and crying out his name.

He sucks my clit until I’m limp, then rises and pulls his jeans off. Then he lowers himself on top of my body and enters me.

With his hands in my hair and his face turned to my neck, he says gruffly, “If you decide this isn’t what you want, promise me you’ll end it before I fall in love with you.”

“I promise,” I whisper, fighting tears all over again.

“Good.” His voice drops. “But so you know, you don’t have much time.”

“Aidan—”

“Hush now.”

He makes love to me with a careful tenderness he hasn’t shown before, handling me as if I’m made of porcelain. When he climaxes, it’s with a soft groan of desperation, as if he knows this thing we’re doing is big and dangerous, capable of annihilating us both.

I understand exactly how he feels.





26





Sunday morning dawns brilliant blue. The rainclouds have been chased away by the sun, and for the first time in weeks, it’s gorgeous out.

Aidan makes us breakfast—scrambled eggs, of course, but also toast and bacon—then we shower together. He hums as he washes my body, grins as he towels me dry afterward, whistles as we dress.

Aidan in a good mood is intoxicating. With his face lit up, he’s even more handsome than usual.

Because the weather’s nice, he suggests we make the trip to the house on his bike. When I agree and tell him I used to ride motocross when I was a kid, he stares at me in disbelief, looking me up and down.

“You?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, lover boy. I know I look like the girl next door, but inside, I’m more like The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.” I pause to think. “Except without the tattoos, the genius IQ, the computer skills, or the eidetic memory.” Then I brighten. “I am antisocial, though.”

Aidan chuckles. “What you are is adorable.”

“Right?” I agree, pretending that didn’t just make me light up like the sun.

“Yes. Let’s see if I have a jacket you can wear, bunny.”

“I won’t fit into one of your ginormous jackets.”

He rummages around in his closet, emerging with a black leather bomber so large, I might as well use it as a tent and go camping in it.

Smiling at my expression, he orders, “Put it on.”

I climb into it. Then I stand there looking like somebody’s idea of a hilarious joke. “If I wear this, the wind will catch me, and I’ll sail behind you like a balloon.”

“Don’t worry, my giant helmet will weigh you down.”

He isn’t kidding. He hands me a helmet fit for the supervillain Megamind. When I laugh, he says, “Can’t help it. My brain is huge.” He grins. “Among other things.”

I say sweetly, “You’re thinking of your ego.”

He swaggers past, swatting me on the ass as he goes. “C’mon, little rabbit. If you’re good, I’ll feed you a carrot later on.” He turns and winks.

I’d like to make a smart remark, but damn, I also really want that carrot. So I bite my tongue and follow him out the door.

There’s a small garage behind the bar where he keeps his Harley, a shiny macho thing custom made to scare old ladies and little dogs and deafen everyone else. It starts with a rumble and idles at an eardrum-piercing volume, vibrating the earth under my feet.

Aidan jerks his chin, indicating I should climb on behind him. When I do and I’ve got that lovely vibration going between my thighs, I decide I should look into purchasing one for myself.

I might never leave the house.

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hold on tight as we take off with a roar.

It’s only a ten-minute ride to the other side of the island, but it’s so beautiful, I’m wishing it were longer. The air smells crisp and fresh, the hills are awash in golden light, and everywhere I look, I see a million shades of green, from pale apple to dark emerald. The whole world seems steeped in it.

We round a turn and pass a roadside farm stand, then a winery. Then we’re descending a hill into Port Madison, a historical waterfront neighborhood full of parks and walking trails. A few more turns and we’re on a long dirt driveway lined on either side by tall trees. The driveway ends on a flat parcel of shaggy grass directly overlooking the calm crystal waters of Hidden Cove.

Aidan parks under a giant cedar and cuts the engine. I hop off first, pulling the helmet from my head and looking around in awe.

“Wow. This view is incredible.”

He swings his leg over the bike and pulls on the chin strap of his helmet. When he’s got it off, he sets it on the seat of the bike and smiles at me.

“Lots of space for a bunny to play in, huh?”

My cheeks heating, I twist my lips and look at him.

He laughs at the expression on my face. “C’mon. The house is up here.”

I thought we were on the main parcel, but he’s pointing toward an incline beyond a break in the trees. He holds out his hand. I take it and follow behind him up the gentle slope on a path that looks well-worn.

When we reach the top, I stop short and gasp.

The frame of a house sits in the middle of a semicircle of giant Western white pines that stand at least one hundred feet tall. Facing the water, the house has two stories, a foundation, a roof, and not much else. There are no interior walls or windows yet. No landscaping or driveway, either. It’s more of a sketch, the outline of an idea, but the idea is taking shape beautifully.