Page 62 of Heat Exchange
He looked down and grinned. “That makes your boobs look amazing.”
That made her laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever pose for naked photos.”
“No.” His expression turned fierce and she put her hands back on his body, running them over his shoulders and biceps before stroking his back. “I don’t want anybody else seeing you naked.”
Aidan drove into her, burying his cock so deep within her she almost came immediately. She cried out, but he covered her mouth with his. The muscles of his back worked as he fucked her slowly and with long, deliberate strokes—almost pulling out completely before burying himself deep again. When she moaned his name, hovering on the brink, he quickened his pace.
“Come for me,” he said, his voice raspy.
And she did. Her muscles spasmed, tightening and releasing as he drove into her, not letting up until her fingernails bit into his back and they were both breathless and trembling from their release.
After a minute, he rolled to his side and kissed her shoulder. Then he went into the bathroom for a minute and Lydia rolled onto her stomach, stretching muscles that were still deliciously warm. She couldn’t help remembering the possessive look that had taken over his face when she joked about having naked photos taken, and she smiled.
“That kind of smile’s good for a man’s ego,” Aidan said as he slid back into bed. He pulled the sheet and blanket up over them and then lay on his side so he could throw his arm over her back.
“I don’t think your ego’s in any need of fluffing,” she said, and then she giggled when he slapped her on the ass through the covers.
Then she rolled onto her side so he could spoon her, and her smile changed to one of contentment. It was nice, she thought, curling up with Aidan with no thought of anybody or anything else lurking like a shadow elephant in the room.
Tomorrow they’d go back to Boston and those elephants would start closing in again, but for now she was content to nestle against Aidan’s body and feel his breath in her hair.
Chapter Fifteen
AFTERDROPPINGLYDIAoff at her sister’s and making a quick stop at his place, Aidan made his monthly trek to his parents’ house in East Cambridge for a family dinner. The rest of them were there every Sunday, but he’d managed to convince his mother that his work schedule only allowed for one Sunday with the family per month.
During football season, that Sunday usually happened to coincide with the Patriots having the early game, so he could see the whole thing before suffering through the meal. And sometimes he was able to stretch it to six weeks or even two months, though he was expected monthly.
Unfortunately, everybody was already seated around the big dining room table when he walked in, though nobody had food on their plates yet. His father sat at the head of the table and Bryan was at his left, both of them in crisp dress shirts and ties. Bryan’s wife, Deborah, sat next to her husband, looking very put together and vaguely unhappy to be there. Aidan’s sister, Sarah, was on his father’s right, and his mom sat at the foot of the table. The empty chair between Sarah and his mom was for him.
“I’m sorry I’m late, everybody,” he said, bending down to kiss his mother’s cheek.
She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like gas. And your shirt is smudged. Is that dirt?”
Aidan looked down at sleeve and saw that, yes, there was a small smudge of dirt on it. “I stopped to help a woman who was out of gas, and I must have rubbed against the car trying to get the gas can nozzle into it. I’ll go wash up.”
“And unroll your sleeves and button the cuffs properly while you’re in there,” his mother said.
“Honestly, Aidan,” his father said, “just once you could keep driving past, you know. Let somebody else stop and help for a change.”
It was probably a good thing his old man couldn’t be bothered to look up at him, since Aidan figured his expression was probably something likeare you fucking kidding me right now?
“Helping people is what I do, Dad.”
“Yes, we know. Higher calling and all that. But gas delivery boy is stretching it a bit, don’t you think?”
Aidan bit down on whatever words might come out of his mouth should he open it and instead walked in silence to the guest bathroom. His old man was pretty damn dismissive for a guy who’d had his head split open by colliding with a tractor trailer and laid in the middle of the road while his wife sat by the guardrail in shock.
And whether he’d grown up to be a firefighter or an investment advisor, Aidan liked to think he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t drive by a woman broken down on the side of the road with her kids.
Maybe he shouldn’t hold it against his dad. He’d been raised by a family with some money and he’d made even more for himself. John Hunt wouldn’t know which end of a wrench to use, and he’d never even changed his own tire. He wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to help somebody in trouble, unless it was a financial issue. Aidan knew that. What he found hard to forgive, though, was the implication his father found him somehowlesserbecause of his job.
It was a matter of respect, and his dad not only disrespected him, but pretty much everybody he cared about. It was tough to swallow sometimes, but he washed his hands with the flowery soap and, after a few futile swipes at the dirty streak, fixed his shirt sleeves. He could get through dinner and then he’d be off the hook for another month.
After taking his seat between his mom and Sarah, they started passing the serving dishes. The food, at least, would be amazing. He considered it his consolation prize for doing his duty as a son once a month. Today it was roast beef with garlic mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus, which happened to be one of his favorites of his mother’s meals.
“So, Aidan, are you dating anybody?” his mother asked, once they’d all begun eating. She usually held up the bulk of the conversation since his father rarely knew what to say to him. They didn’t have a lot in common and neither went out of his way to find something.
Whether or not he was dating anybody was a complicated question, but he suspected it was asked more to be polite and offer expected conversation than out of genuine interest. “I’ve been seeing somebody lately, but it’s very casual and I haven’t been seeing her for very long.”
