The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

“Good?” he whispered, the arm warming my lower back flexing.

“Yes. Am I crushing you?” I whispered.

“You and your questions.” He seemed to peer at me closely. “You’re not feeling good?”

Was it that noticeable? “No,” I said loud enough for only him to hear. “I feel sick and everything hurts.”

“How many miles did you run?”

“Only seven.”

He murmured something under his breath, his body stirring under mine. “You should elevate your legs. Is your knee bothering you?”

“Everything is bothering me,” I whined, and I didn’t even feel bad about it.

A low, soft snicker puffed against my ear and that big hand shifted over my knee. Before I could react, Aiden moved me so I was sitting across him. One of his hands was on one thigh and the other landed on my shin.

He cupped my calf with that big hand and began to knead.

Seriously, a tingle shot up the back of my thigh and lower back. There was no way to stop the sound of pleasure and pain that came out of me. “Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, sounding more like a pant.

A small chuckle nudged at the side of my cheek as he massaged my calf, then worked his way up to my quadriceps. Of course his hands were strong; I seriously felt my leg go numb with how good and bad it felt at the same time.

“I should tell you that you don’t have to do that.” I had to suppress another gurgle when he hit a tender spot high on my calf. “I’m not. That feels amazing. Thank you.”

An almost indecipherable grunt came out of Aiden’s throat, but I was way too gone to pay attention. The arm around my back tightened, clutching me closer. His fingers worked slow and steady, from the muscles right above my ankle to even higher, so high if I was any less tired than I was, I would have realized it was too close to the seam of my underwear.

The soft lull of conversation from Aiden’s friends went in one ear and out the other, and I only caught brief words here and there. Aiden didn’t talk much as we sat there around the chiminea and he rubbed one of my legs and then the other as best as he could, which was the same way he did everything. The best. I couldn’t help but focus more on his steady breaths and the pressure of his hands than what the guys were actually talking about.

That was the strange part. I usually couldn’t sit somewhere doing nothing without getting bored, but I found myself doing just that minus the bored part. With a big, warm body surrounding me, and a small fire going strong feet away, I just let myself relax.

And I kept relaxing as I listened to his friends argue about some football player, I thought. The occasional rumble of Aiden piping in with his low voice so close to my ear kept me company. I didn’t even notice when my head landed on his chest, or when my forehead hit the side of his throat.

His palm slid to the meatiest side of my thigh, four fingers on my hamstrings, one finger on the top. His other forearm draped over both of my knees. I definitely didn’t notice when I put my hand on his stomach, much less when I snuck it under the Henley he had on and palmed the square-shaped muscles covered by soft, hair-freckled skin under my fingers.

I was barely aware of Aiden shifting his grip, after who knew how long, to practically cradle me. I was dozing, more asleep than awake. More comfortable than I should have been in a man’s arms. A man who I was in love with, but didn’t love me back, and more than likely never would. His heart already belonged somewhere else.

I was only half aware when, at some point later, Aiden got to his feet with me in his arms and said in a voice quiet enough so that it wouldn’t wake me, “I’m putting her to bed.”

And Drew asked, “You coming back?”

With Aiden answering, “No. I’m tired. You want to give me the little guy?”

“Nah. I’ll keep him tonight. I promise I won’t crush him.”

I was yawning, fighting the sleep that had pulled me and my bones under, wanting but not really wanting to open my eyes and walk to his bedroom on my own two feet. When he swung me up higher as he headed into the house, I yawned again, nosing the side of his neck with my fingers along his collarbone, absently feeling how smooth the skin there was.

“I got you,” he whispered in that quiet, grumbling voice.

Who was I to tell him no?

I fell back asleep. Unaware of him laying me on the bed and taking my slippers and socks off.

And I definitely missed the rough way he pressed his mouth against my temple before he turned off the light, plugged in a nightlight I had no idea he’d bought, and got undressed himself.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Why are you staring at me?”

Could I have tried to play off the fact that I’d been lying in bed with my head propped up on my palm, staring at him? Absolutely not. What the hell else could I have been looking at? I’d been doing it for so long that, knowing Aiden, he’d waited to make sure I was doing what he thought I was doing.

Which I had been.

I’d woken up maybe ten minutes before and laid there, appreciating how cozy it was under the heavy covers and on the perfectly comfortable mattress. But when I finally forced myself to open my eyes, the first thing I saw was the big guy. Aiden was on his side, his hand pillowing his head. That normally harsh face was… well, it was still pretty rough. It wasn’t soft and dreamy; he honestly looked like he was thinking about bad plays in his sleep. His mouth was slightly open with the softest, even breathing coming out of it. With the covers pulled up to his chin, he looked too damn cute.