And turns him on.
I push my shoulders back, stand up straight and proud, and march my mostly-naked ass to the doorway.
Aiden’s standing by the bed, holding two glasses of champagne.
I know I look silly, but I might as well have some fun with it. I lock eyes with him, spread my arms and legs wide, and pose in the doorway.
Aiden immediately sets the glasses down. His eyes are dark and sexy as he strides across the room. He places his hands on my shoulders, moves them out across my arms, and lands on my hands, which are braced in the doorway. “Don’t move your hands,” he insists. “No matter what.”
I nod as he drops to his knees.
He studies the thong then touches a piece of candy. “One.” He touches another and says, “Two.” He quickly moves his finger across more candy, counting. “Eight pieces of candy in my way to the sweet spot.”
“One,” he says taking the first piece of candy in his teeth and biting it off.
“Two,” he says, eating another piece as he caresses the backs of my thighs.
He cups my ass with both hands. “Three.”
I push my hands harder into the doorway, wondering how I’m going to make it to eight.
His tongue flicks across me as he says, “Four.”
He removes one hand from my ass and places his finger through the little hole he’s created, touching the very upper part of what he’s aiming for.
Ohmigawd. Down just a bit further, I want to beg, as he says, “Five,” and flicks his tongue where his finger just was.
“Oh,” I say, dropping my hands and running them through his hair.
He moves his tongue under the candy that’s blocking his way and gives me a little tease of what’s to come.
Then he stops and stands up, grabbing my hands and pressing them against the door casing. “I thought I told you not to move your hands.”
“Uh . . .” I say breathlessly.
“Do you want me to get to number eight?”
“Yes.” I’m so full of desire and lust that I can barely speak. Plus, his eyes. They have that dark, hungry look that practically hypnotizes me.
“Good,” he says, pausing to suck on my breasts before he moves back to bite off number six.
“Seven,” he says, biting off another piece while sliding a finger inside of me.
I suck in my breath and hold it as he discovers just how turned on I am.
He quickly says, “Eight,” and then delves his tongue into the spot where his finger was.
“Holy shit,” I think I say, as I push my hands harder into the doorway for support.
He uses some magical combination of his fingers and tongue on me.
I’m breathing hard and saying ohmigawd over and over until my legs are weak and the only thing still keeping me standing is my arms, barricaded across the door frame.
When he feels my knees start to give away, he picks me up and pulls me on top of him on the chaise. I push his boxers down and glide myself across the Titan.
Aiden rhythmically moves my hips against him.
“Aiden, I want to . . .”
“Not tonight,” he says, kissing me, but still guiding my motions.
The friction alone causes me to moan and that’s when his grip tightens and he loses control.
“God, you’re sweet,” he says into my ear.
A little later, we’re lying in bed and I’m softly trailing my fingers across his chest.
“You know, I was thinking . . .”
“Sounds dangerous,” he teases.
“You might not be able to come to France with me. What’s your grade in French?”
“Does it matter? I have my dirty French book. That’s all I’ll need.”
“You can cuss and get laid.” I roll my eyes.
“So, I’ll get laid?”
“Uh, what?
There’s a smirk playing on his face. “Are you saying we’re going to do it there?”
“I wanted to do it just now. And I, um . . . I guess that depends on how convincing your French is,” I say, teasing him, even though my thoughts are elsewhere.
I just realized my worlds don’t have clear-cut lines of separation anymore.
Brooklyn = Malibu. Waves. France. Europe. The beach. Sunrise.
Aiden = Connecticut. Eastbrooke. New York. The loft. Sunset.
I hadn’t realized it, but Aiden has been invading what should be Brooklyn territory ever since we were in St. Croix. The surf. The sand.
And, now, he’s about to invade France.
The place B came to be with me. Dropped everything. Got on a plane. For me. In the hammock is where we confessed our love for each other. It wasn’t long after that we shared our first time. Our summer of waves.
Before my birthday party, I hoped my worlds would come together.
Until they were standing there in front of me.
Sander. Cush. Brooklyn.
Each one representing a different choice. A different life.
A different me.
But I didn’t need my worlds to come together.
I needed myself to come together.
Aiden kisses my temple. “You have that faraway look in your eye. What are you thinking?”