Page 58 of Married to Number 22
Aiden sighs and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Look,” he says, dropping his head back down. “My mom is going to freak out and likely throw something together the moment she finds out. You leave us alone until we get back to the Bay Area and I’ll make sure you get an invite.”
The big man considers that for a long,longmoment.
“Don’t push me, Smitty,” Aiden mutters.
“It’d be better if we plan it together—your mom and I,” Smitty says contritely, while notlookingcontrite in the least.
“That’s not going to happen.” Aiden glares. “And if you push it, I’ll make sure the theme is wombats.”
I don’t really understand what that means, but Smitty does, apparently. He shudders. “That’s not fair,” he says begrudgingly. “But fine.”
“Wombats,” Aiden repeats. “With beady little black eyes and cube-shaped poop.”
Smitty pales slightly and shives. “Ugh. Like I said,fine. But”—he jabs a finger in Aiden’s direction—“the party better be soon. And if your mom reaches out because she wants my help then I’m telling you’ve okayed it.”
Why am I almost certain that Kathy Black is going toreach outto Smitty for party planning help?
I keep that thought to myself, along with the guilt that threatens to rise up about Kathy planning a party for a business deal of a marriage.
This isn’t purely that.
I know it. Aiden knows it.
And anyway, I can flagellate myself later.
Tonight, I just want to enjoy Aiden…and maybe also the big man’s shenanigan’s. So long as he leaves soon.
“Dude,” Aiden mutters, shoving at his chest again. “Just get the fuck out of here.”
Likely realizing that he’s pushed Aiden to a breaking point, Smitty finally cooperates, letting himself be herded toward and out the door, calling a goodbye to me in the process.
I call one back, thinking—yeah, I can’t help it—but I like the man.
I hear the heavy wooden panel slam closed. Then athunk, like Aiden’s dropping his head against it.
Carefully, I get out of bed, peeling off my bunched up dress and hanging it over the back of the chair. I take a step toward the door then pause…debating.
Yeah. The aftermath of Smitty’s interruption definitely calls for lacy undergarments.
So, I change directions, snagging the lingerie from my bag. It takes only a couple of seconds to clip on the bra, to drag the matching panties up my thighs.
And when Aiden doesn’t reappear in that time, I venture down the short hall, see that he’s got his face pressed to the door.
He sighs loudly.
Smiling despite myself, I settle my hand on his back. “Wombats?”
He spins beneath my touch, emerald eyes filled with irritation. “You don’t want to know.”
“I do,” I say. “Like, Ireallydo.”
Smitty seems incorrigible enough that I’ll need ammunition for future interactions.
“No, you don’t...” But he trails off, eyes heating as his gaze drags down my front, catching on my breasts, dipping lower to the scrap of fabric that is masquerading as underwear. “Luns.”
I shiver, heat gathering between my legs, making the tops of my thighs slick with need. “You like?”
“As much as that dress and those heels?” He shakes his head. “No.Fuckno.”
