~Joan~
I kept tossing on the bed, unable to find a position that felt right. Had it always been this hard to sleep?
Rhoda was already fast asleep. She’d crashed the moment we got home from the long walk-our mistake.
We’d told Aaron not to bring his car because it was supposed to be a walk, not a drive. Besides, he wasn’t exactly great company.
Throwing on a pair of shorts and a top, I slipped out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind me. Rhoda was a deep sleeper. Once she was out, she was out.
The house was dark, but I managed to make my way to the living room without bumping into anything. A small accomplishment, but I celebrated it in my head anyway.
Light was spilling faintly into the living room, and I wondered if Rhoda had forgotten to turn off the kitchen lights. Both siblings seemed to thrive in darkness, especially at night.
I changed course, heading to the kitchen. I’d switch off the light and grab a drink while I was at it. But I froze when I saw him.
There he was-standing shirtless, mixing ice cream and Pringles like it was a totally normal thing to do. His back was to me, and the sight of his corded muscles flexing with each movement made my stomach flip.
This wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled across Aaron shirtless in the three years I’d known Rhoda, but tonight?
His shoulders tensed, muscles bunching before he relaxed slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes locking onto mine and sweeping over me.
Heat bloomed across my skin, and I remembered the real reason I couldn’t sleep.
My so-called writer’s mind had been replaying and recreating scenes with Aaron-scenes that were far from innocent. Seeing the man who’d been the star of my fantasies standing here in the flesh? My body immediately caught on.
I leaned casually against the island, crossing my arms over my chest. Or at least, I tried to look casual. My eyes darted to the counter behind him. Ice cream and Pringles? Ew. Definitely not what I expected from Aaron.
“Ice cream and Pringles?” I asked. He turned fully, holding the bowl in one hand. My mouth watered-not because of the food, but because of him.
Had he gotten even more muscular in the last three years? My gaze lingered on his chest, drifting lower to the sharp V that disappeared into the waistband of his low-hanging pajama pants.
The man looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine, not holed up as a brooding tech expert.
He raised an eyebrow as he took a scoop of his bizarre concoction. “I assume you have a problem with that too?” he asked, his voice rough, his tongue swiping the bottom of his lip to catch stray ice cream.
A wave of heat curled through me-this time not from anger, but from the growing desire I couldn’t seem to suppress.
I traced invisible circles on the counter with my finger, trying to ground myself. “That’s disgusting. From someone like you, it’s not what I expected,” I said, moving to the cabinet to pour myself a drink. His gaze followed me, and I felt it like a physical touch.
Grabbing a bottle of vodka, I poured some into a glass and took a long sip. The burn in my throat was exactly what I needed to calm down.
“I told you, you don’t know anything about me,” he said, his voice still rough. He glanced down at his bowl before looking back at me.
“You should try some. It won’t kill you. Might harm a few organs, but that’s as bad as it’ll get.” His lips tugged into a small smirk, and I felt one of my own threatening to form.
Was I seriously about to smile at Aaron’s lame joke? Hell must have frozen over.
“Nah. Hard pass,” I muttered, taking another sip. We stood in silence, like this was just a normal conversation.
I wondered why he was still up. Couldn’t he sleep either, or was he just craving that awful mix he was eating?
His dark eyes flicked back to me, thoughtful for a moment. “Why are you still up? You went to bed hours ago,” he asked, his tone casual, though his gaze was anything but.
“I didn’t know you kept tabs on me, Thompson,” I said, shrugging one shoulder.
He put down his half-empty bowl, his eyes still locked on mine. The intensity of his gaze sent goosebumps prickling along my skin.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I muttered, finishing my drink and setting the glass down with more force than necessary.
“Why? Trying to think of your next scheme or who to torment next?” he asked, his tone flat. I shot him a glare.
“No. I forgot my vibrator,” I said bluntly, and he stilled. His eyes raked over me again, his expression unreadable.
“You own one?” he asked, like it was the most shocking thing he’d ever heard.
I gave him a look. He of all people should know I had one. Hell, even Rhoda owned one-and probably a dildo too.
“Technically,” I said dryly.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. When they opened, they were darker, blazing with something that made my breath hitch.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “Go back to your room and lock the door,” he said, his tone low and commanding.
I poured another glass of vodka, deliberately ignoring him. “Since when do I take orders from you?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
His jaw tightened. “Since now, kitten. Go to your room. Or…” He trailed off, I could see his restraint hanging by a thread.
I leaned back against the counter, testing the limits. “Or what?” I challenged.
One second, he was across the room. The next, his hand was wrapped around my neck, pinning me against the cold marble of the island.
“Last chance, Madison,” he said softly, his voice dripping with warning. “Go back to your room and lock the door.”
My glare was unwavering, though my heart pounded in my chest. “I just said I wouldn’t,” I muttered.
He shook his head, his patience snapping. In one swift motion, he hoisted me up onto the island, a yelp escaping my lips.
The cold marble bit into the backs of my thighs, but all I could focus on was him-his gaze locked on mine.
“Well, you made the right decision, kitten. Now, spread those legs,”