"Yeah. I don't know, thought it might turn you on."
"Fuck," he whispered, sliding his fingertip against her tight little bundle of nerves. She arched into the touch, bucking against his hands. "All I'm going to think about every time I see you from now on is going to be me wondering whether or not you're wearing panties. You realize that, right?"
Her smile was full of feminine mystery, but then her hand cupped his already hard cock. "Good."
With one arm, he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist. She bent, kissing him as he kept her in that position until he'd managed to maneuver her to the living room. He'd never make it up the stairs without taking her. "I need you now," he whispered.
She'd managed to get his jacket off, and his shirt hung from his wrists. "Good," she echoed, biting down on his nipple as he lay her down. "It is my turn to be greedy."
"You deserve better," he began, but she'd managed to undo his pants.
"I deserve now," she said. When she stroked him once, held tight in her small palm, he couldn't think of a reason to disagree.
He never managed to get his shirt off. Or her skirt, leaving it banded around her waist like a chunky belt when he filled her. She clawed at his back as he thrust inside, careful to keep up his gentle teasing of her clit until she screamed out his name.
"Aiden!" Her cry sounded like forgiveness and forever, all in one sound.
"Chels," he whispered. And because he was weak with needing her, because he couldn't imagine ever wanting another as much as he wanted her in that second, he reached for her.
Her arms were around him; their mouths merged; when he exploded with pleasure, he felt it from the hair on his head to the balls of his feet.
Unable to do more, he bent his head to rest it on her shoulder, breathing hard with exertion and shaky with pleasure. Little muscle movements deep inside her continued to rain sparkling shocks of pleasure through him, but he tried to remember how to move, worried his weight was crushing her.
Her hand smoothed his hair, and her lips rained kisses across his neck and ear. "I won't leave you again," she promised.
Finding his strength, he stood and carried her upstairs. They had a lot of lost time to make up for, and he wasn't wasting a second of it. "I won't give you reason to."
Chapter Twenty
Chelsea
Her hands were sweating. She couldn't do this. She spun and turned to flee but was stopped by a four-foot-tall, red-haired ball of energy. "If I can't back out, you can't, either," Waverley said.
"You literally can't. You're related to them," Chelsea pointed out. "I still can escape. It isn't too late for me."
"Yes, it is, actually." Aiden wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You're both chickens."
Waverley's eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not a chicken."
"Then go meet your grandparents," he replied without missing a beat.
The little girl squared her shoulders and whispered under her breath, "They're going to love me. I'm absolutely adorable."
Chelsea overheard her pep talk to herself and broke free from Aiden's embrace to kneel before the child. "You are adorable. How could they resist you? Plus, they've got ten years of spoiling to make up for. This is going to be awesome."
Without warning, Waverley wrapped her arms around Chelsea and whispered in her ear. "Thank you. And I have my piece of quartz you gave me in my pocket for luck."
Enjoying the child's hug, Chelsea breathed her in deep. "You got this, kid."
Waverley released her and stared up at her dad. Her voice was monotonous, as if she was proclaiming her doom, when she said, "Well, they're your parents. Lead the way."
"She's bossy like her dad," Chelsea pointed out. Aiden shrugged and smiled before turning to walk up the neat sidewalk toward the cute little two-story house. When Chelsea pictured where one of the richest men in the United States' parents might live, it wasn't something like this house. Then again, not a lot about Aiden fit into what she might have imagined, so why would his parents be any different?
She lingered back, giving Aiden and his daughter plenty of room to enter before her. If she had her way, she'd hide on the wide wraparound porch and rejoin the group when they left. Aiden promised them ice cream, if they were good, and a special "grown up" treat for her later …
If she survived that long.
The door was opened by a short woman who looked a lot like one of those sweet grandmothers off a commercial. All neat as a pin and smiling. Behind her, Chelsea could see what looked like an older version of Aiden-same hazel eyes, same build, but with gray hair. When the woman moved, Chelsea could see that Aiden's father was wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck gray sweater and one of Aiden's first products, The Useful Kilt.