Blood roared through her veins, muting her hearing, but gradually she recognized his voice, though the words were foreign and breathless. It was hot in the garage. Airless. Creating a sauna effect that heightened her arousal. She felt drugged, languid, though every cell in her body was finely attuned to the man who fucked her so well.
“Aidan.” Her lips pressed his name against the sweat-slick skin of his neck, her fingertips slipping through the wet strands of his hair.
In response, he hugged her tightly, the tender embrace so at odds with his lower body, which battered her hips with the force of his lust, his cock shafting her cunt over and over again.
“Can’t…I’m sorry,” he bit out, just before he pressed her into the door and shuddered in orgasm, his thighs quaking beneath hers, his cock jerking inside her, his cum scalding with its heat.
Lyssa ground downward onto him, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone, pushing herself into climax with him. They clung together, shuddered together, her nose pressed to his skin, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Aidan.
His heart pounded against her breast, his chest rose and fell as laboriously as hers, the sweat on his forehead mingled with hers.
Connected.
Aidan stepped out of the downstairs shower stall before Lyssa finished in the bath upstairs. He wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped a hand across the foggy mirror. The man who looked back at him—with a touch of fear in his eyes to go along with the determined set of his jaw—was not someone he knew.
He heaved out his breath and stepped into the hall. Tossing the towel in the laundry basket, Aidan tugged on the pajama bottoms he’d bought and then went to the kitchen to search for something to feed his Dreamer.
He’d discovered last night that Lyssa had the shopping sense of a bachelor. Beer, soda, leftovers, and sandwich stuff were the extent of her refrigerated stores. Iced rum, boxed meals, and ice cream made up her frozen items. Knowing better than to look in the fridge, he went straight to the pantry, where he knew pasta and various canned goods waited.
He was momentarily tempted to make SpaghettiOs again, but then decided to try his hand at something different. He pulled out a few things and set to work.
“Smells good,” Lyssa said a little while later.
Aidan looked over his shoulder and smiled with contentment. Lyssa sat at the breakfast bar with her wet hair combed back into a ponytail and a thin-strapped satin top he suspected had matching bottoms. “Let’s hope it tastes good, too.”
Her lush mouth curved on one side in a half smile. Her bare shoulders were so pale and slight, reminding him of how tiny she was compared to him. He should have been more gentle with her earlier; he should have followed her into the house, let her bathe, then leisurely seduced her senses so that he could win her trust. Instead he’d sensed the distance and worry in her. Fear had goaded him to touch her, to remind her of how good they were together. Then she’d whimpered his name, his name, not a fantasy, not a warrior of legend. And he’d lost control. Again. He had been losing control since the night he’d first met her.
“Whatchya cooking?” she asked, craning her neck in an effort to look around him.
“Don’t know,” he replied honestly. Reaching over, he flipped open a cupboard door and removed two plates. “You don’t have much in the way of nutrition around here.”
“I take a multivitamin.”
He snorted. “You’re going to need a hell of a lot more than a multivitamin to keep up with me, Hot Stuff. I’ll tell you that right now.”
Scooping the contents of the pot onto the plates, Aidan turned and set her serving before her, then grabbed a fork and passed it over.
Lyssa stared at her plate with wide eyes. “What is this on the salad pasta?” She poked at the little tubes with the tines of her fork.
Aidan turned back around and looked at the can by the stovetop. “Chili.”
“And the goopy yellow stuff?”
“Cheese.”
“Sliced cheese?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “The block cheese was moving, so I threw it out.”
Her brows rose. Then she speared some pasta and gingerly placed it in her mouth.
He waited expectantly.
“Ummm…” she purred, her mouth full. She nodded.
“It’s good?” He grabbed a spoon and ate with great relish. It wasn’t the best meal he’d ever had, but it wasn’t the worst, either.
“So,” she hedged finally, her voice tentative, “Tell me about us. And you. And everything.”
Shooting a longing glance at the pot, he acknowledged that he’d have to get enough to eat later, when Lyssa was deep in slumber.