Page 28

EMORY

I blink at Aiden through the curtain of rain.

His hair is plastered to his head. If anything, the rain does fantastic things for his bone structure.

I imagine I look like a drowned rat, while he looks like a model.

His lashes are dark and damp, his cheekbones stark.

His eyes still gleam gold and green, even in the rain-washed dark.

“I came to find you,” he says over the drumming of the rain around us. He holds up an honest-to-god lantern. “Power might go out.”

I wrap my arms around myself and nod. He came to find me. Right as I was resolving to hate him forever.

He starts shrugging out of his coat, and before I can protest, he’s draping it over my shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re shivering,” he mutters, tugging at the sleeves. “Arms. Come on.”

I should argue, but I’m too cold. My teeth chatter as I slip my arms through the enormous sleeves.

“Is this a coat for giants?” I ask, trying to smile. It feels like one. Deliciously warm wool, so thick that even the rain can’t penetrate it. It smells like Aiden and it’s heated and solid like him too.

“You can joke when we’re back home,” he shouts, grabbing my arm and lifting the lantern.

We jog through the garden, Aiden hauling me along, then, after I stumble, lifting me into his arms and carrying me the final yards.

I should hate it, but instead, I press my face to his wet chest and huff his scent like it’s a drug. He’s warm even in the rain, and there’s an answering pulse of warmth inside me. “I’m not light,” I tell him. “You can put me down.”

He snorts a sound of disagreement before he shoves open the door with his foot. “You weigh nothing.”

Then we’re inside, and the heat of his living room feels unbearably delicious. Dusty is dancing around our feet, barking and jumping on Aiden, then trying to jump on me.

“Down, fiend,” he mutters before he kneels on the floor and lets Dusty lick his face. “She’s fine. Don’t jump on her.”

He slides me a look. “You look like you might fall over,” he says, scanning my face and then my shaking shoulders. “Come on. Into the library.”

I trail him into the library, where there are embers smoldering in the hearth and a plate of—I squint—potatoes with sour cream and caviar on the table.

“Dinner?” I ask.

He nods from where he’s placing new logs on the coals. “Comfort food. My mom used to make them for parties. Truman Capote potatoes. I would steal them as a kid and eat the sour cream and caviar off the top.”

I give him a funny look. “Caviar. As a kid.”

He lifts one shoulder, still not looking at me. “I was weird.” He tugs at the hem of his shirt. It’s plastered to his body. He showered after riding, clearly, because he’s in a white shirt and trousers. The Aiden uniform, as I’ve come to think of it.

I watch him fiddle with the shirt buttons before realization seeps through me. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my wet clothes. It’s freezing. You should be in front of the fire.”

He shrugs out of the shirt and drapes it over the couch.

I get an eyeful of the back I bandaged last weekend.

The scrapes are mere red lines now, and my eyes rove greedily over the acre of naked skin.

The flames flare as he pokes the logs, and suddenly, he’s painted in firelight, his skin like velvet over the muscles of his back.

Those muscles were moving under my hands just a few hours ago.

He was groaning into my mouth, panting against my neck.

Oh god.

I strip out of my own clothes, and he passes me a blanket from the couch, carefully averting his eyes.

He sits on the floor as I wrap myself in the gold and green plaid wool, draping his arms over his knees and staring into the fire like it will have answers for whatever is plaguing him.

I join him on the floor, a safe six inches away, not sure what to say. Not sure how I feel.

He insulted me, but he came to find me.

He apologized.

I hurt him.

“Aiden, I—”

“Emory,” he says at the same time.

We laugh awkwardly, then he gestures for me to go first.

“I’m sorry for what I said in the garden,” I say.

“I’m sorry too,” he says roughly. He runs a hand through his wet hair, clearly still upset, and my heart lurches.

Aiden is a better man than I realized. He rescued me in the rain. He was genuinely worried when I fled.

“Aiden.”

He studies me, the planes of his face gilded in flickering light and his damp hair spilling over his brow.

“I know I said I didn’t need your concern.” My throat tightens. “I have a hard time accepting help.” It’s more than I’ve given him up until now, and sharing makes me shift awkwardly on the rug and avoid his searching gaze.

He blows out a long breath. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in front of the others. I was worried you were going to get hurt. I’m sorry if I took things too far. During the match and after.” He swallows. “If we hadn’t been interrupted...”

There’s a tug low in my belly at the thought of what would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. How far would we have gone?

“Yeah,” I say, trying for amusement instead of letting the need I don’t want to feel for him bleed into my voice.

“It’s probably for the best that she showed up.

” I give him a rueful smile as understanding flashes across his face.

His eyes flare, then darken as he watches my expression.

My mind flashes back to how he watched me in the garden, like he was intent on making me finish.

I don’t want to feel this way about him. I don’t want to imagine what he’s like in bed or wonder if he can make me finish. Desire for Aiden is just as dangerous as the kernel of tenderness I felt when he lifted me into his arms.

A kernel that can never grow. A spark that absolutely can never be fanned into a flame, lest it destroy me.

“You liked it.” His voice is rougher than before, plucking at my insides.

“We can’t,” I say quickly. I don’t give him confirmation or denial. Confirmation is weakness.

His brows tug together, but he doesn’t speak.

“I mean, look how badly that ended.”

He winces. “For a second I thought I’d ruined everything. I thought you were going to divorce me.”

“Exactly. When this is over, we need to part ways and split the land amicably. No feuding. Messing around is a terrible idea. It’s not worth the problems it will cause.”

It’s not worth the chance that I could like him again.

He’s looking at my lips as I speak, then he swallows hard and looks back at the fire. “Right.” He blows out a long, steady breath, and I watch his bare chest move. “Right,” he repeats, like he’s convincing himself. “No messing around.” He looks back at me. “So if you liked it, why’d you run?”