Pen Pal(53)

“There’s gonna be a wraparound porch in the front,” says Aidan softly, gazing proudly at the bare bones of his home. “And a path over there that leads down to the dock.”

He looks at me, eyes shining. “I’m gonna get a boat. Nothing big. Little flat-bottomed lake boat I can putt around in for cocktail hour.”

I’m so impressed, I hardly know what to say. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Couple years now.”

Wide-eyed, I look around. “And you’re doing this all yourself?”

He chuckles. “I wish. Plumbing and electrical go in next, and that’s when things start to get expensive.” He looks back at the house, draws a deep breath, and smiles. “A lot of it I can do in trade. Which is good, because I don’t have the cash to finance this project. The cost of lumber alone nearly had me going broke.”

I move nearer to him. Still gazing at the house, he winds his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close.

“At the risk of being punished, I need to tell you that I’m definitely going to pay you now for the work you’re doing on my roof.”

His laugh is soft. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, enjoying the sun on his face. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, bunny, or your butt would be burning.”

I wind my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his chest. “Promises, promises.”

He kisses the top of my head. Then we stand there in comfortable silence, our arms around each other, listening to the breeze playing through the trees. The sound of faraway children’s laughter drifts to us over the water.

Aidan asks softly, “You ever want kids?”

My pulse goes wild. My hands start to tremble. I close my eyes, bury my face in his chest, and whisper, “Yes.”

There’s a slight change in his energy. A new tension creeps into his arms. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s just…I tried once. We tried.”

He rests his cheek against the top of my head and tightens his arms around me. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay. It’s not a secret or anything.” I blow out a breath. “I had a miscarriage. I was pretty far along.”

A memory hits me like a punch to the gut: pain, screaming, blood coursing down my bare thighs. Crawling over the office floor and sobbing, trying desperately to get to the telephone on the wall. It’s a jumble of impressions that come all at once, like a clip from a movie played too fast with the sound turned all the way up.

But whose voice is that? The screaming doesn’t sound like mine. It’s a stranger’s voice, full of rage, bearing down on me like a hurricane.

The memory disappears as quickly as it came, cut off as if a plug was pulled on a projector.

It leaves behind the distinct and chilling impression that big chunks are missing. That something important has been left out.

Or erased altogether.

I search for anything more, but nothing comes. I’ve hit a brick wall.

“You’re shaking,” says Aidan, sounding worried as he hugs me tighter. “What is it, Kayla? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just hold me, please.”

He envelops me in his arms, holding me tight. I cling to him, swallowing down the acid taste of bile.

After a few minutes, when I’ve calmed down a bit, Aidan says softly, “I don’t mind if you’re not ready to talk about certain things. You can just say that, and I’ll accept it. I won’t push. But don’t lie to me again, okay?”

I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

His voice turns firm. “Say you won’t lie to me again, Kayla.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Nuzzling my cheek, he murmurs, “Good. Because you don’t have to. You never have to hide from me.”

My voice cracks when I say, “I don’t understand how you’re so amazing.”

He kisses my neck, my ear, my cheek, soft butterfly kisses filled with tenderness.

“I’m only amazing when I’m with you. The rest of the time, I’m nobody.”

I burrow closer to him, needing his solidity, loving how safe I feel in his warm embrace. He makes a sound of pleasure low in his throat and inhales into my hair. Then he’s kissing my neck again, only this time, his mouth is more demanding.

“I love the way you taste, bunny,” he says gruffly. “Love the way your skin tastes. Love your smell, too. And how you lose control when I make you come. And how you look at me. The way you look at me makes me feel like a goddamn king.”

He sinks a hand into my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat. Holding me firmly against his body, he licks and kisses a path from my earlobe to my collarbone, pressing his teeth into my skin every few inches as if he wants to take a bite of me and gobble me up.

When I exhale a small moan, he squeezes my ass and flexes his pelvis against mine, pressing his erection against my hipbone.

My response is instant.

My nipples harden. My heart pounds. My skin heats, and my pussy tingles. I’ve never met a man I had a physical reaction to like this, so effortlessly and instantly. Not even my husband.

With my eyes closed and my face turned to the sky as he kisses my throat, I say, “Such a hungry lion. I hope you can run on an empty stomach.”