Play On (Play On 1)

Really.

“It is,” I snapped at myself.

I pulled on my green leggings and shirt, about was about to button it closed when the bathroom door suddenly jerked open.

The breath left my body as I froze, looking up at his familiar eyes staring down at me.

He was so tall, his shoulders so broad, he almost filled the entire doorway.

I tried to open my mouth, to ask him what he thought he was doing, but the words got stuck as his gaze drifted from my eyes to my lips, and down. His perusal was long and thorough, from head to toe and back up again. He lingered on the sight of my bra beneath the open shirt, and when his eyes finally returned to meet mine, they were brimming with heat.

His expression was determined.

A mixture of fear and thrill and nervousness burst through me, finally melting my freeze as he stepped into the bathroom, locking the door.

“What are you doing?” I stumbled into the wall behind me.

Amusement danced in his eyes as he moved slowly, predatorily toward me. “I’m thinking that Peter Pan has never looked so sexy.”

Unfortunately, I was a sucker for a Scottish accent.

Clearly, or I wouldn’t have ended up here, so far from home.

More than that, however, I was beginning to think I was a sucker for him. “Don’t.” I put my hand up to stop him, but he pressed his chest against it, and covered my hand with his own. I stared at how small mine was in comparison, and a shiver trickled down my back and around to my breasts. My breathing faltered as he took another few steps into me until there was barely any space between us. He was so tall, and I was so not that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

His burned. They burned for me in a way no man’s ever had.

How was I supposed to resist that?

And yet I knew I had to. I scowled up at him. “You should go.”

In answer, he pressed the entire length of his body against mine and heat flashed through me. Excitement rippled in my lower belly. Tingling started between my legs. My nipples hardened.

Angry at my body and angry at him, I shoved at him but it was like trying to shove a concrete wall. “This is totally inappropriate,” I hissed.

He grabbed my hands to stop my ineffectual shoving and gently but effectively pinned my hands above my head. My chest thrust up against him and I gasped as my breasts swelled.

Eyes dark with knowing and intent, he bent his head toward me.

“Don’t.” I shook my head, hating the bite in my tone, but carrying on nonetheless. “I’m not playing cavewoman to your caveman.”

His lips twitched. “Shame that. Do you often deny yourself what you want?”

“No, but I think with my head, not my vagina.”

He laughed, his warm breath puffing against my lips.

I loved when he laughed. I loved when I made him laugh. He needed laughter more than anything. The sound thrilled me, making my belly squeeze with pleasure. And I realized it wasn’t just my body betraying me but my heart too.

As if he’d seen the thought in my eyes, he let go of one of my hands so he could press cool fingers against my breast, over my heart. I gasped at the dizzying sensation of being touched so intimately. He asked, “Have you ever thought about thinking with this thing?”

“As far as I’m aware, my left breast isn’t much of a thinker,” I evaded.

He grinned. “You know what I mean, Pixie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Expression turning thoughtful, he said, “I thought we were friends.”

“We were. But then you pinned me to a bathroom wall.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” He took hold of my free hand again and pressed it back to the wall with the other. At the flash of anger in my eyes, he said, “If you were really pissed off about it, you’d be struggling.”

I flushed. “It would be futile. You’re a giant.”

“I’d let you go. You know I would. I’d hate it. But I’d let you go … if you didn’t want this?”

We looked silently at one another, his face so close to mine, I could see little flecks of yellow gold in his green eyes.

In those moments, I forgot where I was. Who I was. And what the right thing to do for him was.

And I didn’t even realize I was straining toward him until he brought it to my attention. “Why are you fighting this when you want it?”

Why was I fighting this again?

“Nora?”

I closed my eyes, shutting him out, which allowed the memory of why I was fighting this to return to me. “Because—”

His mouth crushed down on mine, silencing me. Surprise turned to instinct. I kissed him back, meeting his tongue with my own, straining against his hold on my wrists but not to get away. To wrap my arms around him. Run my fingers through his hair.

Heat flushed through me like I was covered in fuel and he’d started a fire at my feet. It lashed like lightning until I was surrounded in a blaze.

Too hot. Too needy. Too everything.

I wanted to rip off my clothes.

I wanted to rip off his clothes.

And then he broke the kiss to pull back and stare at me in triumph.

If he’d been anyone else, if it had been any other moment, I’d have called him out for being smug.

Instead, I remembered exactly why we should not be doing this.

Whatever he saw in my expression made him loosen his grip on my wrists. I lowered them, but he didn’t step away.

He waited, his hands resting gently on my small shoulders.

Something in his eyes made my defenses crumble. Tenderness rushed through me and I found myself caressing his cheek, feeling his stubble prickle my skin. Sadness doused the fire. “She’s gone,” I told him gently. “Not even I can distract you from that.”

Unbearable, bleak anguish fought with the desire in his eyes and he slowly slid his hands off my shoulders and down to my waist. With a gentle tug I fell into him, clutching at his chest.

He tore through my soul with the whispered, tortured words, “But you can try.”

Looking up into his face, one that I longed to see every day, one that incited excitement when I knew I would see it, I understood then that I would never hurt him like I’d hurt Jim. My feelings for him were on an entirely different level, and as guilty as that made me feel, it also reassured me. The only person in danger here was me.

And for him, I was willing to chance the possibility of getting my heart broken.

Drawn to Aidan, drawn to Sylvie, I think I’d known all along that these two people were my repentance for the mistakes I made with Jim and my family. It didn’t matter what happened to my heart in the end—all that mattered was that I could be what Aidan and Sylvie needed at this point in their lives. And maybe afterward I’d finally be at peace with myself.

So why the hell shouldn’t I let us have what we both wanted?

I threw my hands around his nape and went up on my tiptoes as I pulled his head toward mine. It took only the first nudge and he was bending to meet me. Our lips met in a passionate crash of hunger, and suddenly his hands were gripping the backs of my thighs and lifting me off my feet. I wrapped my legs around his hips as he pressed my back against the bathroom wall, our mouths never untangling for a second. His stubble pricked my skin as the kiss descended from hungry to ravenous—dirty, desperate, and hot as sin.

I’d never experienced anything like it, this heat between us, this want. It was like we knew the only way to feel anything good was to disappear as freely and deeply into one another as possible.

One of his rough, warm hands glided up my bare waist to cup my breast. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then dragged his thumb over the rise of it, pulling the fabric of my bra down. My nipple peaked in the cool air and I gasped when his thumb brushed over it. The noise melted under Aidan’s kisses and he groaned, pushing his hips more firmly between mine so his hard, scorching erection pressed against me where I most wanted it.

I whimpered, my fingers curling tight in his hair as my thighs clamped around his hips, silently pleading for more.

“Right, you pair, oot of there!”

The sound of Jan’s angry voice was the equivalent of suddenly finding ourselves dumped in snow. We broke apart, my eyes wide with horror and his narrowed with frustration.