Page 51

EMORY

“ W hat did you do to him?” I hiss at Leo.

Leo holds up his hands, palms out, and Aiden lists to the side before catching himself on the wall. “It was Benny and Andreas. They poured liquor down his throat, and he challenged them to a fight. Then they took all his money. That was—” He checks his watch and shuts one eye. “Several hours ago.”

Leo sounds far too innocent. I scowl at him and hold out my hand. “Give it back.”

He pouts and fishes some bills out of his pocket. “You’re no fun, Em. This was his induction to the family.” He shoves the hundreds into my hand, and I eye the serial numbers.

“This real?” I flip to the next bill. “Leo. These are sequential.”

He grins. “Oops. Other pocket has the real stuff.” He trades me for another wad of cash and then glances down the hall. “Listen, I got him out because I promised you I’d help, but I need to get back in there. I’ve got two grand on the line, and Andreas is playing like a maniac tonight.”

“You’re an idiot,” I tell him.

He grins and salutes me, and I turn to Aiden.

“How drunk are you?”

He shuts one eye and tilts his head. “Little drunk.”

“You’re wasted,” I tell him dryly. “Come on.” I tug him off the wall, and he leans heavily against me.

“I feel great,” he says. “Let’s keep playing.”

“No way.” I help him sling an arm over my shoulder. “My brothers shouldn’t be scamming you like that. Did you gamble away anything important?”

“Just the house,” he says before he laughs at my horrified face. “Just kidding.”

“There’s a horde of paparazzi outside,” I tell him. “You need to seem sober. The entire bar will be watching us leave.”

“No problem. Feels like I have extra legs. That could be helpful.” His words are loose and wavering, just like his body as I attempt to keep us straight as we make our way down the long hall.

It’s an endless march of nautical paraphernalia and doorways that seems to grow like a hallway in a funhouse.

He takes another shaky step, his side pressing against mine.

“Totally helpful,” I say. There are eyes on us from the main room. There’s a woman I recognize pulling out her phone. I glare at her and she slides it back into her purse. Over my dead body will anyone record him like this.

“Floor is moving,” he says. “Emory, I’m going to—” His words trail off as he stumbles. My heart wrenches. Damn Benny and Andreas for doing this to him.

“I know. Just a bit more. People are watching. Count with me,” I urge him. My ankle nearly buckles, but I keep us steady. “Five more steps. God, you’re all muscle.”

He laughs, low and rough. “I’ll take that compliment. Tell me more, wife.”

Against all reason, hearing him say wife in that tone makes goose bumps rise on my neck.

“Four. No flirting with me.”

“Three,” he says and stumbles again. “I like flirting with you. You get all pink and awkward.” He laughs again.

“Two,” I say, fighting a smile. “Stop harassing me, husband, or I’ll leave you to my brothers.”

“One,” he says as we reach the corner. “Fuck, I’m going to—” He slams into me, and we hit the wall, rattling the paintings on either side. His body presses into mine, his head resting on my shoulder. “I need a minute,” he mutters.

“By all means,” I say. “Feel free to nap here.”

He laughs again. “You’re funny,” he says. His voice is muffled against my neck.

“You’re wasted,” I tell him. My hand lands on his back, stroking the warm muscle beneath his shirt.

“Call me your husband again,” he murmurs. His lips move against my pulse.

My hands still. “What?”

He raises his head, his eyes dark in the dim light of the hallway. “I fucking like it. Say it again.”

“Husband,” I whisper.

His eyes go heavy lidded. “God, Em.” His head presses against the wall. My stomach jumps at my nickname in that rough voice.

He doesn’t sound drunk right now; he sounds longing .

“What’s wrong?” I ask, skimming my hands over his shoulders. They’re warm and heavy under the fine cotton of his shirt.

His arm lands heavily on the wall by my head. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure. But you might regret it tomorrow.” He’ll definitely regret it tomorrow. I skim my hands up into his hair. I can’t help it.

“I love when you do that. No one ever—” He lets out a groan when I tug on the thick strands. His head drops, his cheek pressing to mine. His stubble is rough, and under the scent of whiskey, he smells like the expensive soap I don’t touch in the shower and warm male skin.

“Is that your secret?” I scratch my nails over his scalp.

“Nah.” His words rumble out against me. “Red is my favorite color.”

I laugh. “That’s not much of a secret.” My stomach dips drunkenly at the warm weight of Aiden’s body and his boyish good humor.

“I’m getting there,” he murmurs. His lips brush my ear. “You ever wonder why no one wears it?”

“What?”

“At events.” His breath fans over me, warm and damp. “No one wears red.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s reserved for me.”

His lips land on my neck, nibbling lightly at the crease of my shoulder, and I tremble. “What does that mean?” I whisper.

“It’s reserved for me, and for my wife.” His tongue flicks over my pulse, and I shiver and press into him. I can’t help it. “Every time you wear that red underwear, it’s a flag in front of a bull.” His breath shudders out. “You don’t know what it does to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re under my skin. You always have been.

And you’ve always been forbidden. But you’ve always worn that red underwear.

” His palm lands on my hip and I arch into his mouth.

“I saw that red bra in high school. And every day since we’ve been married.

Every day in court when the strap of your dress would shift.

A secret, just for me.” He pauses, his mouth hovering over my neck.

“Mine,” he murmurs. “My wife. Meant for me. ”

“I never knew.” I’m overheating under his mouth, his words wrapping around me, my pulse fluttering, my limbs heavy.

“I know,” he growls. “It’s a damn shame. And now I only get you in little pieces.” His voice is dark. “I fucking hate it. Do you hate it too, Em?” He pulls back and I shiver at the loss of him.

“Aiden,” I say warningly.

“Do you hate it too?” he repeats.

I freeze. I do hate it, but he’s drunk, and this is ending, and we will never, ever, be anything more than we are now. Two allies who had two incredible nights together. The best we can hope for is that we get along when this is over.

“Aiden…” I pause, lick my lips. “We said we’d end this as friends.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a brief moment. “You can’t like me,” I finish helplessly. My heart pounds an unsteady beat as he watches my expression.

“Never said anything about liking you.” His smile is triumphant, and I have to laugh.

His gaze turns greedy as he watches me. “You entrance me when you laugh,” he says.

He presses his thumb into the divot below my mouth.

“Your lips were made for laughing.” The rough pad of his finger brushes across my lip.

Something inside me responds to his quiet words and his serious gaze. “I never make you laugh.”

“That’s not true,” I say unsteadily. “You did just now.”

“I’m not a laugher. You’d like me better if I were.”

My heart reaches for him, despite everything in me screeching in protest. “I like you just fine.”

He grins. “I win.”

That grin feels like it’s in my blood, warming me.

“Knew you did,” he says triumphantly. “You came in here like an avenging angel.”

I scowl at him, but I’m fighting a smile. “I braved the paparazzi for you.”

He presses a thumb to my bottom lip. “Pretty girl,” he whispers. “I knew you liked me. Thank you for saving me.”

I push at his chest and then grab him as he nearly tips over. “Come on, idiot. Let’s go home.”

“Carry me?” He lists to the side and I snatch his waist. The ridges of his abs are firm under my fingers, and for a brief, shivery moment, I imagine being the woman who gets to slide her hands under his clothes at night.

I hope like hell he doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow.

I’m worried Aiden’s going to die in his sleep, so when Katie and I finally manage to haul him into bed, I slip under the covers next to him.

He makes a soft sound and tucks his body around mine, his arm winding around my stomach. He nuzzles my hair and his heated words from earlier come back to me.

My wife. Mine. Meant for me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, even as my body relaxes into his hold.

If he wanted me like that when he was sober, I’m not sure I’d be able to resist.