Page 15
Fifteen
Aiden
So…maybe not the best time to ask mere minutes after the best orgasm of my life—especially if I want another one at some point in the near future.
And I fucking do want another one, a hundred, a thousand more.
But I’ve been going on instinct from the moment I got in my car and drove over here.
I’m just…going to let go, ride this ride, and hopefully I’ll get to the truth of the matter.
And hopefully it’ll be sooner rather than later.
Hopefully , she won’t kick my ass out to the curb and disappear from my life again.
“Tell me Luns,” I press.
She closes her eyes, turns her head away, her body going taut beneath mine.
Damn stubborn woman.
I exhale silently then pull out, scooping her up, and climbing the stairs, doing my best to remember where her room was.
Each of the doors along the hall are open and I can see that each contains a stack of boxes.
All except for the last.
That door is closed.
I turn the handle, push inside, and freeze at the spartan furnishings.
A single bed, a nightstand, a narrow, beat-up dresser.
Luna’s family has money, a lot of money. The family business was doing well when we were kids and I’ve heard no shortage of news stories about it expanding over the last few years. Hell, I think it even went public during the first quarter of this year.
So, while I can understand her keeping this place—she always talked about how much she preferred staying here, that it was more home than the house she shared with her brother, her father—I don’t understand why it looks like this, don’t understand why this is the only room on this floor with anything aside from boxes inside it.
Why this is the only room that shows any sign of being lived in.
But living like this—in a packed-up house, her life reduced to a sparse bedroom…
It doesn’t make sense.
And it drives home exactly how little I know of the Luna of today, of the Luna who knocked on my door, the Luna who allowed herself to be swept along with the craziness that is my family, soaked up the day, and then…ran.
I settle her on the mattress, go to one of the two closed doors in the space and get lucky on my first guess, finding the bathroom.
I take care of the condom, put myself to rights, and wash my hands.
Then I slip back out into the bedroom.
Since Luna is still sitting there, seemingly lost in her thoughts, I head back out to the hall, snagging her clothes from the various places I tossed them—the banister, near the front door, halfway down the stairs—then bring them back up to her.
She tugs them on, her movements jerky and robotic.
But she’s avoiding my eyes.
Which tells me enough.
I’m not going to like what she’s holding back.
She pulls on one sock, the other, then pops to her feet. “You should go.”
I sink down onto the bed, lace my fingers through hers, then tug her back down beside me. “Luns,” I warn.
She pulls against but I hold her fast, and I wait…
For a long fucking time.
For her to stop fighting against my hold, to stop avoiding my eyes, to finally just give in and look at me.
“Luns,” I murmur. “Will you just trust me enough to talk to me?”
She’s tense—so fucking tense—but my question has her releasing a shuddering breath. “You know that I trust you,” she finally whispers.
But she doesn’t keep talking.
Doesn’t clue me into what’s creating such turmoil.
“So, why won’t you talk to me?” I ask when long minutes pass without her cluing me in.
“Because it’s a long, fucked-up story.”
I glance around the room then turn back to her with my brows lifted and shrug. “Do I look like I have anywhere more important to be, tiny tornado?”
She stays still and I hold my breath, waiting, hoping, praying to whatever gods exist that she lets me in.
Then she exhales…
And, thank fuck, the words start coming.
“I didn’t want this to touch you,” she whispers. “But I brought it to your doorstep.”
I frown.
But she keeps going. “I knew I shouldn’t go to your condo, knew I shouldn’t have tracked you down in the first place, but I was desperate and thought it was my only option and—” She sighs. “Obviously, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Because you came to my place?” I touch her cheek, try to coax a smile out of her. “I mean, yeah it was the middle of the night, but at least you brought cake.”
Her mouth curves, but it’s an empty gesture.
“No,” she whispers. “Because I thought it was actually something we should do. Because I thought it would fix everything.”
That settles heavy on my amusement, tamping it down. “How, Luns?” I ask. “How can marrying me fix anything?”
She shakes her head, eyes sliding closed. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmurs. “Because it’s not going to happen.”
I leave the second part alone, along with the insane thought that maybe making this woman mine in every way might not be the worst idea—that’s the crazy talking—but anyway, the first is more important right now.
I cup her jaw. “Try that bullshit with someone else, sweetheart.”
“It’s not bull?—”
I turn her head toward me, my eyes locking onto hers. “Then tell me what getting married would fix.”
Her eyes drift away.
“Luns,” I warn.
They come back, the gray depths conflicted, an intense storm raging in her gaze.
But eventually—and fucking finally —she answers me,
“Because it will save Grams’s legacy.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15 (Reading here)
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42