Southern Desire (Southern Heart 2)

“Presumptuous.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Let’s get you inside and settled.”

“Fine.” I make it sound like it’s a hardship to give in to him, but the minute the word “stay” fell from his lips, I knew I would.

He puts his arm around me and we walk to the house. “Kinley’s room is right across the hall from mine,” he whispers as we climb the stairs. “There should be towels and whatever you need in her bathroom, if you want to shower.”

“That actually sounds amazing,” I admit.

“Help yourself to her clothes. She should have nightclothes in there as well. She and Lex stay here sometimes if Evan and I have to travel overnight.”

“I can’t—” His finger covers my lips.

“You can. I know my sister and she would be upset if you didn’t. Make yourself at home, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

His eyes are locked on my lips and I want him to kiss me. Friendship be damned, I want to feel his full lips pressed against mine. I want that more than anything. I’m willing to suffer the consequences later. I can see that he wants it too; I will him with my eyes to do it. Just lean in and kiss me. He does lean in, but his lips land on my forehead for the second time tonight.

“Night, Whit.”

“Night,” I whisper. I don’t think he hears me, as he practically runs out of the room. On shaking legs, I make my way to the bathroom, strip down, and take a quick, hot shower. I rummage through the drawers as quietly as possible and find an old oversized T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants and slip them on. I climb into bed and exhaustion takes over. I drift off to sleep with thoughts of Aaron and those full lips pressing against mine.

Only in my dreams.

I barely slept last night knowing that Whitney was just across the hall. The vision of her looking up at me, begging for my kiss, haunted me all night long. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but I was afraid I wouldn’t stop there. She’s too good for just a one-night tryst.

I hear movement downstairs, and I know my parents are up and ready for church. I don’t go with them as often as Mom would like or as often as I should, and today is going to be another one of those days.

Climbing out of bed, I slip a shirt over my head. I slept in lounge pants last night in case Whitney needed anything. I tend to not be able to control my body’s reaction to her. I figured another layer to hide my obvious attraction was needed just as a precaution. I admit, I’m a little disappointed she didn’t need me. Of course, why would she? She’s a grown woman, and now, as I sit here on the edge of my bed a few hours later, I see that my excuse to have her stay was weak at best. I crack my neck from side to side. Too late now; I’m just going to have to own it.

Quietly, so I don’t wake her, I open my door and make my way downstairs. I have to make myself not stop and listen for her. She’s turning me into some kind of fucking creeper.

“Morning,” I greet my parents. I squeeze Dad’s shoulders as I pass him where he sits at the table, and drop a kiss on Mom’s cheek as I reach over her for a coffee cup.

“Morning, how did it go?” Dad asks.

“Great. Midnight took first.”

“Aaron, that’s wonderful,” Mom says.

“Is that Whitney’s car out there?” Dad questions.

Here we go. “Yeah, she went with me yesterday.”

They both have varied looks of shock on their faces. Dad scrunches up his face, and I know what he’s thinking. Why is her car still here?

“Yeah, we got back late and she was exhausted. I convinced her to crash here in Kinley’s old room.” I go ahead and put it out there.

“Oh,” Mom says. She closes the dishwasher and takes her seat next to Dad.

I suddenly feel like I’m under the microscope. I don’t bring girls home, ever. I sure as hell do not convince them to sleep in my sister’s old room. I tell myself it’s because she works for McKinley and it’s what she would have expected out of me. Although that may be true, I know it’s . . . more.

“She’s a nice girl,” Dad finally says.

“She is. She took some great pictures of Midnight yesterday. I’m sure she will show them to you once she has them edited.”

“Kinley said she’s very talented.”

I nod. She is, but I bite my tongue to keep from singing her praises. I can see their wheels are already spinning out of control, trying to decipher why she’s really here.

I wanted her to stay.

“Well, we better go so we don’t miss the early service. Make sure she eats before she leaves,” Mom insists.

I don’t want her to leave.

“I can do that. See you all later.” I wave them off as I make my plate. Mom is a great cook, and I admit that’s a huge perk of still living at home.

“Hi,” her sweet voice says from behind me.

Turning, I see her standing in the doorway wearing one of my old T-shirts and a pair of pajama pants. “You look good in my shirt,” I say without thinking. Her cheeks pinken with embarrassment. I should feel guilty, but I just can’t find it in me. She looks too fucking adorable. “Hungry?”

She looks around, for my parents, I’m sure. It’s in this moment I finally get the benefit of having my own place. Living with my parents does add to a certain level of awkwardness. “They just left for church. They were fine, just like I said they would be. Mom even made me promise to feed you when you woke up.” A slow smile tips her lips. “Sit, I’ll make you a plate. Coffee, milk, juice, what’s your pleasure?”

“Water?” She says it like a question.

“Sure, coming right up.” I busy myself making her a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast.

“Does your mom cook like this every day?” she asks, taking her first bite.

I place my hand over my heart and try like hell to sound offended. “How do you know I didn’t make this?”

She gives me a look that tells me she’s not buying my story.

“Fine. Yes, she does.”

She nods. “It’s delicious.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her you enjoyed it.” We eat the rest of our meal with nothing but the sounds of our forks hitting the plates.

“Thank you, Aaron,” she says, standing to wash her plate.