Flashback Read online

  “Aidan—”

  His hand stroked over her hip, and her breath backed up into her throat. She opened her mouth to say maybe she’d been hasty about this whole breaking his heart thing, but before she could, he’d put a hand on her inner thigh and pushed, further opening her to him.

  The slants of shadows hampered his view, but he didn’t seem bothered, not with his front row seat.

  The only sound in the room came from him as he let out a groan. “God, Kenzie. You’re so pretty.” He lowered his head, then paused, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from her trembling belly. “I want to kiss. I want to taste. I want that more than I want my next breath. Please let me…”

  As far as begging went, it was pretty good. “O-okay,” she managed, and almost before the word was out, he’d nudged her legs open even wider, wedging them there with his broad shoulders. He slowly lowered his head. “Pretty please,” he whispered across her flesh.

  Her wet flesh.

  “Yes.” Her heels dug into the mattress as he “pretty pleased” his tongue over her, and then his teeth, and then his warm lips, over and over again leaving her a panting, gasping, quivery mass of sensitized nerve endings, and when she exploded for him, he surged up, produced a condom and slid into her with one sure, powerful thrust.

  “Oh,” she gasped, reaching up to hold onto him because her world had just spun on its axis. The feel of him deep inside her—and he was deep, as deep as he could get—had her spiraling. Gone were all thoughts of hurting him, or revenge. She could think of nothing but this, but him. Not that she would admit such a thing. “You…you didn’t beg for that.”

  Cupping her face, he tilted it up to his. “Pretty-please may I drive you out of your living mind?”

  Oh, God.

  “Kenzie? May I?” His voice was thick with the same hunger and need that was driving her.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. May I also pretty-please make you scream my name?”

  In answer, she arched up, her breasts pressing into his hard, warm chest, her legs wrapping around his waist.

  He groaned, a low, rough sound that scraped at all her good spots but he didn’t move. “Can I?”

  “I don’t usually do much screaming.”

  He just smiled, and then took her mouth as he took her body, indeed driving her out of her mind with all too disturbing ease, and when she exploded again, she cried out his name.

  Loudly.

  She might have even screamed it.

  As the blood finally slowed in her veins, as the roar of it lowered to a trickle in her head, she became aware of the fact that she was gripping him tight, holding him close with her arms and her legs, not letting him escape.

  He didn’t say a word, just nuzzled lazily at her neck as his breathing slowed.

  Hers wasn’t slowing. Embarrassed at how tightly she was holding him, she forced herself to let him go, certain he’d roll away.

  But in perhaps the loveliest thing he’d done all night, he didn’t. Instead, he remained right where he was, turning just his head to press his lips to her jaw, murmuring her name on a sigh.

  It was one of those defining moments, where she suddenly knew the truth—she’d not exacted a single ounce of revenge. In fact, she’d made things worse.

  She’d risked her own heart.

  But for that one moment at least, she didn’t care, because maybe he’d changed. Maybe things could be different this time, and—

  “You screamed my name.” He lifted his head, revealing a strong smile. “You begged.” He out-and-out grinned then, not broken, not even a little bit. “We still work hard.”

  “There’s no we.” She pushed him off her, suddenly and irrationally irritated. “No we at all.”

  Completely oblivious to the picture he made sprawled out on the bed, buck naked, he put his hands behind his head and continued to smile like an idiot. “Are you telling me you have no desire to do that again?”

  “None.”

  “Ah, Kenzie. You’re such a pretty liar.”

  Yeah. Yeah, she was. A pretty liar, and a good liar. But she had no idea how else to hide the fact that she still had feelings for him in spite of their past—or maybe because of it. God. She needed to get out for a while, needed to clear her head. Get some answers. Alone.

  “Stay,” he murmured.

  “Okay.” She looked at him. “I’ll stay if you tell me this. Why did you really dump me?”

  At that, his amusement faded. “I told you I was an idiot back then.”

  “Granted. Why else?”

  He looked at her and she nearly backed down; she certainly held her breath, but he touched her face. “Because I didn’t know what I had.”

  AIDAN SLEPT like the dead. Or like a man who’d been far too close to serious exhaustion. When he opened his eyes, he felt the various aches and pains from the fire, and from the mattress gymnastics he and Kenzie had executed, and was grateful to know he had two days off, because more sleep was on his To Do list. Much more.

  So was more mattress gymnastics.

  Considering that Kenzie was wrapped around him like a pretzel, that shouldn’t be too difficult to manage. As he looked into her face, taking in each of the cuts and the bruises there in the light of day, he felt a tug in his belly.

  He wished like hell he could say he was just hungry, but he knew the truth.

  He was a goner.

  She was as cut up and bruised as he was, more so, and if he hurt like hell, he could only imagine how she felt. He was used to such injuries. She wasn’t.

  “I realize I’ve spent my days on a television set, where my worst injury was a paper cut from that day’s script,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “But I’m not feeling as bad as I probably look.”

  Her face was relaxed now; and he realized it hadn’t been before—not on Blake’s boat, not when she’d crawled in bed with him, not even when he’d stripped her out of his shirt and proceeded to make her scream.

  That he’d undone her so easily didn’t stroke his ego. She’d undone him just the same. It’d always been like that for them, a virtual explosion of need and lust and hunger.

  But he’d attributed much of that to being young and horny. He hadn’t anticipated a resurgence of those feelings, And he doubted she had either. But that’s exactly what they’d gotten.

  With a sigh, she slid out of his arms and off the bed. He enjoyed the view as she walked to the bathroom, but when she shut the door, his smile faded. She needed sustenance, and a bandage change. Getting up, he pulled on his jeans and went into the kitchen, where he grabbed a pan and eggs and went to work getting them both some protein so that they could go back to bed and burn it all off again.

  His doorbell rang and Aidan stopped dicing peppers long enough to sign the clipboard of a pudgy guy in brown shorts, who handed him a slim package.

  When he heard the shower go off, he finished the eggs and then grabbed his first-aid bag and knocked on the door. “Bandages, aspirin and breakfast. And your package from L.A. is here.”

  “Perfect timing—I’ve got to run.”

  “You mean back to Los Angeles?”

  The door opened and steam came out. As did Kenzie wrapped in another of his towels. “Not back. Not yet.”

  The towel was tucked between her breasts, which pushed them up and nearly out, a fact he’d have taken the time to thoroughly enjoy except for the nasty bruise arcing along her left collar bone. “You need rest.”

  “I need clothes.” She moved past him and into his bedroom. “Can I borrow a pair of sweats?”

  “Sure.” He opened his dresser and handed the clothes over.

  “Thanks. I’ve really got to go.”

  She was going to go snoop. Get in Tommy’s way. Get herself arrested. “Kenzie, listen to me. You need to stay out of the investigation. The chief doesn’t want you digging—”

  “I don’t work for him. He can’t tell me what to do.”

  “If you stay—”

  “No. Thank you