Page 20

EMORY

I wake to a thump and a muttered curse.

“Who’s there?” I blink into the darkness.

There’s moonlight coming in through the curtains, but no other light.

There’s pressure on my legs and a seam under my back.

I shift, and my laptop nearly slides off the couch.

I scramble to sit and snatch it before it can make the death leap to the floor.

The couch. I fell asleep on the couch in Aiden’s library.

“Go back to sleep.” A low male voice comes from my left. Another thump.

“Aiden?” I can barely make out his form in the dimness.

“No, it’s Santa Claus.”

I laugh. He mutters another curse.

“Why aren’t you this funny in real life?” I ask.

“This is, regrettably, real life.” His voice is dry and farther away now.

I flop back onto the cushions. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” A drawer slams.

“I was working.” I sigh and sit fully up.

Aiden is bent over the desk under the picture windows. In the darkness of the library, he’s not an enemy. He’s not even a man. He’s just a shadow with broad shoulders—he curses again—and a filthy mouth.

“Working on what? And why? Weren’t you drunk?”

“I sobered up. And sometimes I work drunk.”

“Seems responsible.” He slams another drawer.

“Yes, well, if you can manage being head of strategy for your family business and also planning a massive expansion in secret without working late, I’m open to suggestions.”

“If I wanted to be nagged, I would have gotten married,” he says. “Oh wait.”

I laugh against my will. “I was working on getting a surveyor. We need to do a survey before we divide the land. Before we can contact architects. And we need permits.”

He pauses, hands braced on the desk. I see nothing but the shallow movements of his chest in silhouette.

“What are you doing?” I stifle a yawn.

He growls under his breath. “This is my library, wife. Leave me alone.”

“I want to go back to sleep.”

“Then go upstairs.”

I stick my tongue out at him in the darkness.

He straightens, something clutched in his hand, before he takes a heavy step toward the couch, then another.

“I need you to do my back.” He slumps onto the couch.

I freeze. His breathing is harsh in the silence.

“Your what?”

He lifts his head, and the moonlight finally illuminates his face. I can’t help my gasp. Blood trickles down his forehead before running along his eyebrow and painting dark streaks down his temple.

In the darkness, he looks like a warrior king, or a demon. His eyes glint with cold fire.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I made a very poor decision tonight.” His voice is crisp. “One that may come back to haunt us.” He tugs at the hem of his shirt, hissing a breath as he gingerly pulls it over his head. “Can you do my back or not?” He thrusts a first-aid kit into my hands.

“Sure,” I say. I fish for an antiseptic wipe in the kit. “What’s a wife for, if not to bandage up her husband when he comes home from the bar?”

“You’re not funny.” He turns, grunting softly, baring his leanly muscled back in the moonlight. I suck in a breath at the bloody scratches. They lash over his skin, spreading from one rounded shoulder down to the shadowed divots at his waist.

I press the wipe to the largest cut, and he inhales sharply.

“I’m very funny,” I remind him.

“You are the bane of my existence.”

“That’s my line,” I say mildly. “Just like bar fights are my family’s thing. Not yours. Unless you’re going to tell me you were assaulted by a rosebush.”

He chuckles and then tenses. “I think I hurt my shoulder.” He takes an experimental breath and lets out a pained sound.

“Can’t help you with that, buddy.”

“You wouldn’t even if you could.” He grunts as I put more antiseptic on the cut. “Don’t deny you’re enjoying this.”

I smile into the darkness. Aiden’s words from earlier come back to me.

I have something I need to take care of.

I still. Harrison. Harrison was there when we left. Holy shit. Aiden looked homicidal at the bar. Did he…? No. I refuse to believe that Aiden would, what? Avenge my honor? No.

“Keep bandaging, woman.”

I press my fingers to Aiden’s skin in warning. He’s warm and solid where he’s not cut up. I’ve been avoiding more than fleeting contact, but now I lay my palm on the center of his back. His breath shudders out.

“What happened tonight?”

“Nothing.”

His heart is thundering. I feel it under my palm, all the way through his ribs and the slabs of muscle I’m avoiding thinking about.

“Aiden. Did something happen with Harrison?”

“Define something.”

“Look at me.”

He turns stiffly. His face is proud but otherwise unreadable in the moonlight. I lift my hand to his face, and his head jerks back.

“Can I see?”

He nods warily. His eyes are deep pools in the dark. His lashes are thicker than I realized. I assumed for years that Aiden’s perfection was a mirage, created with slick advertising and carefully tailored suits. But here, shirtless, silent, and bleeding, he takes my breath away.

I want it back.

I hate him for affecting me like this.

But I can’t shake the feeling that he did something terrible tonight. Terrible and wonderful.

I dab the wipe along his hairline. “They say head wounds bleed a lot. I always thought that was just a line. But I can’t believe how much—” I swallow. “It looks like whoever punched you got a good one in.”

“I turned my head at the last minute.” His lips are so close to my wrist that each word is a puff of air against my skin.

I clean the blood off while he holds himself stiffly. “Here’s where you tell me I should have seen the other guy.” I unwrap a bandage.

He doesn’t smile. “What other guy?”

Frustrating man. “Harrison.” I push my fingers through his hair to hold his head still. His hair slips like thick silk under my palm. He looses a heavy breath.

“Why would I fight him?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing.” I press the bandage carefully to his skin before I release his head.

“We don’t like each other, remember?” He stands, loosing a pained sound as he does.

I look up at him, tall and regal in the dark. I don’t know why, but Aiden took it upon himself to beat the crap out of a man after he said something mean to me. “Why are you fighting my battles, then?”

No one has ever done that before.

His face is harsh as I push up to stand.

We’re inches away, and I can’t look away from him.

For a moment, I see what Katie must see—a presence that inspires loyalty, a face no one can forget, but most of all, something tragic in his eyes that makes me want to touch him and see if he needs it as much as I think he might.

“If I were to fight someone, it’s because our relationship needs to look real. No other reason.” He pauses, then rolls his shoulder again. His abs contract deliciously under the skin I know is warm and smooth.

I look away.

Why can’t my body catch up to my brain and stop wanting him already?

“Are you sleeping here?” he asks.

“No. I’ll be up in a bit.”

It’s weirdly domestic saying that to him. He nods stiffly. “Well, good night, then.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, good night.”

I press my palms to my eyes when he’s gone. That’s a mistake. It’s Aiden behind my lids. Aiden smirking at me, protecting me, taunting Harrison, holding me.

Put your face in my neck.

Don’t let them see you cry.

He comforted me. He stuck by me with my brothers. He beat up my ex.

But he also toyed with me. He’s embarrassed that he wanted me.

And that makes him just like Harrison.