Hard to Handle (Love in the Balance 2)

Sadie felt her brows lift. “Like…”

“She’ll be my wife,” he said.

“Oh.”

“That probably sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” Aiden stood and paced the short distance from desk to door in Axle’s office. “I went through a lot of crap over the last year. And I thought maybe I’d try to do everything right instead of”—he threw a hand into the air—“effing it all up. I just…kind of wanted to start over.” He winced.

Sadie was going to cry. Or laugh. Or laugh until she cried. “You’re a…a born-again virgin?”

Aiden palmed his neck, looking uncomfortable with the label. Uncomfortable about everything. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sadie laughed, a short, high bark she staunched by clapping a hand over her mouth.

Aiden’s face pinched. “Thanks a lot.”

“No,” She touched his arm, which was as rigid as a steel pipe. “I’m not laughing at you.” But that didn’t stop her from giggling.

Her life was pathetically funny.

“Right.” Aiden turned the doorknob. “Sorry I brought it up.”

When he would have made his escape, Sadie said, “It’s just ironic.” He paused, turned his head. She swallowed and forced herself to continue. “That you aren’t ready. And I am. Finally,” she added quietly.

He narrowed his eyes as if trying to figure her out. Great. Just what she needed, Aiden seeing through her like a recently Windexed windshield. “What do you mean ‘finally’?”

She gulped. “I—nothing. I don’t even know why I said that.”

He released the doorknob and walked over to her. “You mean you wanted to sleep with me at the wedding, but you are finally allowing yourself to admit it?” he asked, arriving at a very wrong conclusion.

“That’s not what I meant by f-finally,” she stammered, lifting her long hair off her neck. “It’s hot in here.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Sadie let go of her hair and flipped it over her shoulder. “Just that I’m ready”—just say it and get it over with—“to have sex.”

“With me,” Aiden said, a smile tickling his lips.

“With anyone!” she said a little too loudly. She picked up a manila folder and fanned her face. Wasn’t she too young for hot flashes?

”Anyone at all, huh?” But Aiden didn’t look offended. He looked amused. The bastard. She fanned harder. She could tell by Aiden’s expression that he thought she was busting his balls, keeping his ego in check.

Sadie so wanted to stop having this conversation. And leave Axle’s sweltering office.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings.” Aiden took the folder from her and leaned in. “I get it,” he said, his voice low. “You’re a sexual person.”

“Shh!”

“You have needs.” His lip curved. “And here I am, unwilling to be your boy toy.”

“Dammit, Aiden,” Sadie snatched the folder and slammed it on the desk. Go big or go home, right? “That’s not what I meant.”

Her stern expression knocked the smile of his smug face. Aiden’s lips flattened. “What do you mean, Sadie?”

With a Band-Aid-esque tear, she told him the painful truth. “I meant I’m finally ready to sleep with someone for the first time. Ever. In my entire life,” she reiterated to be crystal clear. “And I was hoping that someone would be you.”

* * *

Aiden had tried to speak once, twice, but only managed to emit a thin wheeze. He felt as if his throat had been lined with cotton batting, his tongue barricaded by bags of sand.

Was she saying…?

No way.

Sadie moved for the door and Aiden pressed a hand to the panel. “Not even Trey?” he rasped.

Sadie crossed her arms over her chest and met his eye. “No.”

Thank God. He didn’t like the thought of her having sex with that philandering douchebag. Aiden didn’t like the idea of her having sex with anyone. And she hadn’t. Apparently.

“It’s not that big of a surprise.” Sadie looked at him through the veil of her lashes. Hiding.

“Wanna bet?” he choked out. He was beyond surprised. He was shocked. Although…when he’d helped her out of her dress at the wedding, Sadie had shown her modesty.

No peeking while I crawl into bed.

But how could she be a virgin? Sadie was completely irresistible. He would know. Every time he found himself alone with her, he was tempted to tie his hands to his sides to keep from touching her. She turned him on wearing high heels or tennis shoes, hair up or down, wielding a silly-saying key chain or a set of sparkplugs. How had she endured the many men who must have—had to have—tried and tried and tried again to get her to change her mind?