Shiver(28)

She caught her breath and pushed out of his grip. He fell onto the bed, off balance. “Why do you care?” she demanded.

He stood back up. “Why do I care? You were everything to me, Raven. I loved you. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. And you knew it. Why else would I have left you when it was the last thing in the world I ever wanted to do?”

It hurt to breathe. Her heart raced, and the room seemed to be closing in on her. “I gotta go.”

“Damn it, Raven.” Aidan grabbed her again and yanked her into this arms. His eyes—hurt and troubled—stared into hers.

She knew he wanted to say something else, but then his tortured gaze fell to her lips. He groaned and crushed his mouth to hers. She whimpered, a little with fear, a little with excitement, and a lot with need. His arms came around her, squeezing her to his chest like he was afraid she’d slip away. She tasted desperation but didn’t know if was his or hers, and the sweet, sweet taste of memories of what could have been. Her arms stretched of their own accord. Her body began doing things she didn’t want it to do. Like rubbing against him, arching into his erection, cradling it with her heat. He groaned and swiveled on his one good leg until the back of her legs were against the bed. Then he lowered her down to the mattress.

His hot hands tunneled under her shirt, right to her aching breasts. Her nipples hardened making them ache even more. He tore his mouth from hers and his eyes bored into the depths of hers. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He kissed her again, his fingers undoing the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts to his searching hands. She hadn’t been touched like this in so long. There had been a few fumbles since Aidan, but none of them had been him. He’d spoiled her for any other man. The way he’d worshipped her body, made her feel like she was everything. Tears leaked from her closed lids. She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him.

Aidan pushed his leg between hers, spreading them wide for him to settle his erection at the heart of her, rubbing against her, making her moan, arch, and writhe under him. His hand reached between them, releasing the button to her jeans. She sucked in her stomach as his fingers trailed down. She needed to stop him. Needed to stop herself. Somehow he’d lost his shirt, and her hands kneaded the hard, strong muscles there.

His fingers trailed fire as they caressed her tattoo. “Raven, let me make you fly.”

A sob hit her at his words. “No.” She pushed at his immovable chest. His broad shoulders blocked out the light, keeping her cocooned within the power of his arms. What she wouldn’t give to stay here within their promised protection. Life alone was hard and lonely. But she couldn’t betray her father’s memory by loving the son of his murderer. She pushed against his chest again, harder. “No, Aidan.”

He stopped, his hands on her hips, fingers digging in, ready to strip her of the remainder of her clothing. His breathing was hard, like the rest of him. She wanted what his dark, smoldering eyes promised. Wanted him to send her flying. She’d flown solo all these years. And solo was a lonely flight.

“You want me, Raven,” he said, his voice strained.

“Yes, but I can’t have you.”



Raven entered the kitchen on shaky legs and headed toward the back door. She reached for her coat but didn’t put it on. The cold would do her good. Maybe she’d even take a minute to lie in the snow and snuff out the flames licking her body.

“Are you going home?”

Raven yelped and swung toward her mother’s voice. With all that was in her head and the unfulfilled yearning in her body, she hadn’t noticed anyone in the kitchen. Fiona sat at the table going over a list—she was famous for her list making—while nursing a cup of tea.

“Yes. Aidan will be fine on his own tonight.” If he felt well enough to engage in the type of activity that they had been engaging in, he was well enough to take care of himself.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Fiona lifted a brow.

Very wise. “He doesn’t have a fever, he’s mobile and he’s an adult. And besides, I’m not his keeper.” Why was Fiona giving her that look? The one that said she was in trouble. Did her mother know what she and Aidan had been doing? Was it painted on her face? Fiona always seemed to know whatever her kids had been up to. She would have caught on sooner with what Aidan and Raven had been up to twelve years ago if she and her dad hadn’t been fighting a land claim with Earl Harte. “Is there something wrong, Mom?”

“Actually, yes. Have a seat, daughter. I need to talk with you.”

Raven sat. Her mother sounded serious. Had something else happened?