Page 36 of Done with You

She was trapped in her own body, which had somehow become glued to the floor. Her muscles refused to listen to her brain and move. Her feet forgot how to walk, her legs pretended they weren’t listening when she told them to engage and take her to the bedroom.

She just stood there like an imbecile, watching him, hoping, praying for the towel to drop. Because she knew exactly just how nice his ass was— she had experienced it with her teeth—but the memories were already a little fuzzy and she needed fresh fodder for her dreams.

What is wrong with you? Move! Move! Stop staring at his ass. It might be a great ass, but it’s attached to a jerk. A jerk who said you were bad in bed, let’s not forget.

That last reminder is what did it.

It jostled her from her petrified state of intense arousal. She blinked a bunch of times and shook her head. Lifting one foot, then the other, she exhaled in relief that her legs and feet were listening again.

Two steps toward her bedroom, and she was stopping again, only this time it wasn’t of her own volition.

It was because of Aiden.

He’d crossed the room with alarming speed and, still in the towel, was crowding her until she had to back up against the small space of wall between the kitchen and bathroom.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered, swallowing hard as her thighs begged to be squeezed together.

He hadn’t touched her, but she could feel his heat. He’d boxed her in, his forearm resting on the wall next to her head, while his other hand was on the wall beside her arm. His breath was minty and cool on her cheek as he stared down at her, his green eyes hooded and gaze soft. He leaned in even closer, and this time she noticed the slight flare in his nostrils and his pupils widening, that was after they took in the curve of her breasts beneath her tank top. Slowly. And since she wasn’t wearing a bra, he could see her peaked nipples protruding through the soft, thin, black fabric.

He licked his lips a little.

May as well have flicked her clit with this tip of his tongue, for how it made her panties turn instantly damp.

“What did you tell Rayma?” he asked, his voice brushing over her name in a rough rasp.

Oona blinked. “What did I tell Rayma when?”

“Last night?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb, Oona, it’s not a good look. Did you tell her about us? About me?”

“No,” she whispered, making sure her answer sounded confident.

“When Jordan and I came back from our walk, you two were cackling like a couple of old hens. Then she took one look at me and burst out laughing again. What. Did. You. Tell. Her?”

Swallowing again, Oona lifted a hand and placed it in the middle of Aiden’s chest, pushing him away a little. He didn’t budge.

“A little breathing room, please,” she said, loathing the idea of having to remove her hand from his warm skin. There was a light dusting of dark brown hair between his pecs, but it just added to his over all sexiness.

He shook his head slowly. “Only after you tell me what you told her.”

Oona sucked in a deep breath through her nose and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tell Rayma anything. It was her telling me a story about Jordan. Then you two came in and she looked at him, not you; he was just behind you, but your inflated ego made you think she was looking at you, then she burst out laughing again.”

His brows pinched together on his forehead, and he narrowed his gaze.

“I swear to God,” she said, impatiently. “You can ask Rayma. I didn’t tell her anything about … us.”

“And you can’t. Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“Well, technically, you were never my patient, so …”

Anger flashed in his eyes.

“But yeah. I would never breach confidence and tell her—or anyone—anything I knew about any of my patients or non patients. And I certainly never told her about … us.” Though Rayma was hell-bent on setting them up anyway. But Oona didn’t say that part. The less Aiden knew about that, the better.

He was quiet for a moment, then hummed, which was like warm fingers dancing up her spine. “What did she tell you?”

---