On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (23 page)

But Sara could be trusted. And he'd needed to say the words, because he needed to find out the truth. Hopefully, the investigator would be able to connect Kyle and Sandra Ellingston in a way that made sense.

As he parked in front of his building, a different kind of tension tightened his muscles. He and Sara were about to spend the night together. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd had a woman over and they hadn't had sex. It just didn't happen. He didn't have close women friends. He'd always felt he had enough females in his life with three sisters.

Sara was almost like a sister, he tried to tell himself, but that rationalization fell short. He didn't feel like a brother to her at all. He did feel like they were friends though. And as a friend, he couldn't take advantage of her.

Would it be taking advantage if she wanted it, too?

Of course it would. Because Sara was upset about her parents and feeling angry and reckless. Sleeping with him might make her feel better for a few hours, but in the morning she'd regret it. He wasn't the kind of man for her. She'd grown up with such a cold father, that she needed someone to really, really love her, to commit heart and soul.

Love wasn't his thing. It never had been. Love hurt. He could still remember the pain of losing his mother, and that had happened over twenty years ago. The fresh pain that came from losing Kyle had only reinforced his belief that love was an emotion he did not want to embrace; he only wished he didn't want to embrace Sara.

Sara gave him a wary look as she got out of the truck and followed him up the stairs. He wondered if the same kind of thoughts were going through her mind. They'd been dancing around their attraction to each other for a few days now. The kisses they'd shared had only whetted his appetite for more—a lot more.

He opened the door and told himself it wasn't going to happen. He would do the right thing.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said, as he turned on the light. "You can take the bed."

"No, I'll take the couch. I'm shorter than you. I'll be more comfortable."

"I'm not going to let you do that, so can we save ourselves a long discussion that's only going to end up the same way it started if you just agree to take the bed."

"You Callaways are extremely pigheaded even when you're being generous."

He conceded her point. "I can't argue with that."

"I guess I'll go to bed then," she said, her words a bit hesitant.

"You should," he agreed, knowing that the sooner they had a door between them the better.

"Do you need anything from the bedroom?"

"Yeah, I'll grab some sweats," he said, heading into his room. His very comfortable king-sized bed looked far more inviting than the couch. He could imagine Sara tangled up in his sheets, her beautiful brown hair spread across the white pillows, her legs intertwined with his, her soft, round breasts perfect for tasting. His groin hardened, and he turned quickly away.

He grabbed some sweat pants out of a drawer and left the room, deliberately avoiding her gaze as he passed her on the way out. When she shut the door behind him, he felt like he might be able to leave her alone, maybe…

* * *

Sara stared at the bedroom door for at least three solid minutes, before she finally opened her suitcase and pulled out a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. After changing, she debated the stupidity of going into the hall to use the bathroom and brush her teeth. It wasn't Aiden she didn't trust. He could stay away from her. He'd proven that a long time ago. The question was whether she could stay away from him.

She flopped back on the bed, appreciating the comfort of the soft mattress and the thick blankets. Aiden hadn't slept in the bed in a couple of weeks, but she could still smell his musky scent on the sheets. Or maybe it was just that her senses were acutely aware of every little thing about him, the taste of his mouth, the tenor of his voice, the strength of his stance. He was in the next room, but her nerves were still tingling.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth. It was a crime that he was such a good kisser. He put every other man she'd kissed to shame. In fact, she realized now that she'd been subconsciously comparing every date she'd ever had to Aiden. She'd set the bar with him when she was fourteen years old, and no one had ever come close.

She'd tried to hate him for humiliating and rejecting her, but deep down she'd still had a soft spot for him. Over time, she'd pushed him to the back of her mind. She'd gone out with other men. She'd even come close to falling in love, but she'd always held back. No one had ever felt exactly right.

Aiden felt right
.

But he didn't care for her the way she cared for him. He'd been up front about being a no-commitment guy. And they were opposites in so many ways. There were a million reasons why they didn't work together, the most obvious being that Aiden would probably never feel for her the way she felt for him. He was her friend. There was an attraction, but something more? Was Aiden even capable of more?

He said no, but she'd seen the way he loved his family, his friends. She wished he could let himself love a woman that way. And not just any woman – her.

Maybe she was just lonely. It had been a long time since she'd been attracted to anyone the way she was to Aiden. And it had been a long, emotional day. Her entire sense of identity had been shaken to the core. She was looking for escape, searching for something solid to hang on to. She really shouldn't be thinking of hanging on to him.

She turned on to her side, closed her eyes, and tried to think of something else, but a restless need finally drove her to her feet. She walked to the door, paused one last second, and then entered the hall. She made a quick stop in the bathroom, thinking some cold water on her face might also help. But ten minutes later, face washed, teeth brushed, she felt even more of a need to talk to Aiden.

The living room was dark, but she doubted he was asleep. If he were, that would certainly solve her problem.

She walked down the hall and paused.

"Go to bed, Sara," he said.

His husky voice drew a tingle down her spine. The caution in his tone was mixed with something else – desire?

She walked into the room, stopping at the end of the couch.

He was stretched out, a light blanket covering him, his head on a pillow, his feet dangling over the edge.

"What do you want?" he asked.

How did she answer that question? A dozen suggestions fled through her brain, but only one stuck. She couldn't give him that answer. It was too bold. Then again, where had being shy ever got her?

"I think you should take the bed," she said. "You can't be comfortable here."

"If I take the bed, you're sharing it with me."

She swallowed hard at his purposeful words. In the dark shadows, she couldn't see his face clearly, but by his tone, she sensed that she was standing on the edge of a precipice.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "You're better at starting things than finishing. Every time we've kissed, you've been the one to pull away."

"To protect you."

"Really?" she challenged. "Or were you protecting yourself?"

"You were too young for me, Sara. You didn't know the score."

"That was true back then. I thought I'd gotten over you. But then I came home, and suddenly I was right back where I was before—wanting you." She drew in a much-needed breath. "I'm taking a big chance right now. You could reject me again."

"Then why risk it?" he asked.

"Because I want you." There, she'd finally said it. "It's as simple as that, and you like things simple, so what's the problem?"

He sat up. "You're not at all simple, Sara. You're complicated, beautiful, smart, and way out of my league. I knew that when I was nineteen, and I know it now."

"That was the past. This is now. You know me, and I know you. You're probably right that we are wrong for each other. Our lives are in different states. We have different priorities, but tonight we're here together, and I don’t want to think about tomorrow. I just want to be with you. No strings. No commitment."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind—"

"Sh-sh," she said, sitting next to him on the side of the couch. "Stop putting walls between us. I know you want me. And that's not a teenage girl with a crush talking. That's a woman who knows when a man wants her. And you want me," she repeated.

His gaze met hers. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, a desperate note in his voice, as if he was getting tired of the fight. "I hurt you before. I didn’t handle things well. I don't want to make the same mistake."

"Aiden."

"What?"

"Would you just kiss me already?"

A charged, tense minute followed her words,

Then Aiden slid his hand around the back of her neck. He pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, tender kiss, almost as if he were afraid he might break her. She didn't want gentleness from him. She didn't want to be the sweet, good girl. She wanted to be bad—with him.

She opened her mouth, inviting him in, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands roamed up and down her back. Urgency and need stripped away the barriers between them. His mouth devoured hers, his kiss touching off the storm that had been brewing for years. It was as if the dam had broken for both of them.

Aiden pulled her t-shirt up over her head. She shook out her hair as his hands cupped her breasts, as his mouth dipped, and his tongue slid along her collarbone and then the edge of her bra, the light touch teasing her nipples into fine points. She put her arms around him, pulling him closer, sliding her hands up under his shirt, tracing the lines of his rippled muscles with the tips of her fingers.

He groaned and stopped kissing her long enough to shed his shirt. Then his hands moved to her bra. He unhooked the clasp and pulled it off of her shoulders. His mouth sought her nipples, and she gasped at the streak of pleasure that ran through her body.

She ran her hands through the wiry strands of his hair as he kissed her breasts. His fingers slid down her stomach, one hand dipping into the waistband of her loose-fitting pajamas, his fingers seeking the heat that was threatening to consume her.

"Aiden," she whispered as he pushed her back against the pillows of the couch.

"Sara," he muttered. "Beautiful Sara." Then his mouth was on hers again.

She moved her legs restlessly wanting so many things, and on top of her list was her naked body next to his. She reached down to peel off her pajamas bottoms, grateful when Aiden kicked off his own pants.

He stood up, not at all self conscious, and why should he be? He was gorgeous and male and for the moment all hers.

He held out his hand to her and she took it, getting to her feet.

"Let's go to bed," he said. And then he led her into the bedroom.

He grabbed a condom out of the nightstand, and she swallowed hard, suddenly realizing they were really going to do this. They were going to make love to each other.

He gave her a questioning look.

She answered by stretching out on the bed, happy to see the relief in his eyes when he joined her. For a long minute his gaze ran down her body. She almost covered herself up with her hands, but she didn’t want to hide from Aiden. She didn't want him to hide from her. She'd dreamed about this moment for half her life, and she wanted to see it, feel it, live it.

She pulled him down on top of her, loving the weight of his body on hers, the way his hard angles fit so well with her soft curves. He kissed her mouth again, the curve of her neck, the lobe of her ear, his mouth setting off every single nerve ending in her body. He didn't move fast, but there was deliberateness behind every movement as if he knew exactly how to bring her to a quivering peak of need.

She ran her hands up and down his back, around his waist, cupping the long hard, length of him, hearing his groan of pleasure and feeling an incredible delight that she could make him happy. And she planned on making him even happier.

While a part of her wanted to savor every second, another part of her was urging her on. She wanted to get closer. She wanted Aiden inside her, all around her, so she cupped his buttocks and urged him forward. She was ready, more than ready, and when he slid inside of her, it was absolutely perfect, a feeling better than any she'd imagined.

He picked up the pace, moving inside her with purpose and intensity, the passion between them rising with each breath, each beat of her heart. Her breasts burned from the friction of his chest. And each time his mouth dipped for hers, she felt as if he were taking her to another realm of pleasure. It was too much and not enough all at the same time.

Aiden was right there with her, his husky voice caressing her name the same way he had in her dreams, his hands and body taking everything she had and giving even more in return. They hit the peak at the same time, crying out, holding on to each other, riding the wave back down until they were spent. He collapsed on top of her, and she held on to him, hoping she would never ever have to let him go.

* * *

Aiden didn't move for at least five minutes. He loved the feel of Sara's body under his. He adored the sweet curve of her neck, the swirl of her silky hair against his body, the soft, full swell of her breasts. But he was probably crushing her, so he reluctantly slid on to his side. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see her better.

Her face glowed in the moonlight and the smile she gave him made his heart flip over. In that smile, he could see love. That scared him. It also for some strange reason made him feel really, really good.

It was just the great sex, he told himself. He'd seen glimpses of fire in Sara even when she was a shy teenager. Tonight, she hadn't held back a thing, and he'd loved seeing the passion rise in her eyes, feeling the frenzied, demanding movement of her hips. Just thinking about sliding between her legs again made him hard.

He had a feeling he could have her again and again, and it wouldn't be enough.

"Now you're the one who's thinking," Sara teased. "Usually, that's my department." Her smile grew a little wary when he didn't respond. A flash of her old insecurity tightened her expression. "What are you thinking about?"