25 - THE AFTERMATH

25 - THE AFTERMATH
AIDEN’S POV

I wasn’t expecting much when I pushed open the motel door. Maybe the faint smell of cheap air freshener and Cheryl sprawled out on the bed, tangled in the thin sheets.

What I wasn’t expecting?

Cheryl. Naked.

Dripping wet.

Frozen mid-step like some kind of forbidden masterpiece I was never meant to see.

My brain glitched. My breath caught.

And for a full second—maybe two—I didn’t move.

Her eyes widened in sheer horror, and for once, I wasn’t the one in control.

The motel’s crappy lighting flickered above us, but it didn’t matter. I saw everything. Water trailed down her collarbone, over the curve of her waist, disappearing between her thighs. Her wet hair clung to her skin, droplets catching on her lips, which were slightly parted like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Same, sweetheart. Same.

Something burned in my chest, something dangerous, something I couldn’t afford to feel. I should’ve turned away. Looked at the damn ceiling. Covered my eyes.

But my body had other plans.

My jaw clenched. My fingers twitched. I felt a familiar heat rush under my skin like a warning siren I was trying to ignore.

Fucking hell.

Then, like a bucket of cold water to my brain, I remembered something.

I’d woken up before Cheryl, which wasn’t surprising. The girl slept like a damn rock. One arm flung over her face, hair everywhere, mumbling something in her dreams that I didn’t bother deciphering.

I should’ve stayed. Should’ve watched her a little longer.

But I hadn’t. Because my head was still a mess from last night, and my body ached from sleeping in motel sheets that probably hadn’t been washed in a decade.

So I got up. Threw on last night’s wrinkled shirt and pants.

Threw one last look at her

And left.

The motel had a small gift shop near the lobby. It was barely stocked with anything useful, but I grabbed what I could—a cheap T-shirt, fresh boxers, some sweats. Overpriced as hell, but I wasn’t about to walk around in last night’s sins all day.

The coffee, though? That was the real mission.

I paid the bored-looking cashier, stepped outside to light a cigarette while I waited for the world's slowest coffee machine to drip its last ounce of caffeine, and let myself think about something I really shouldn’t have.

Cheryl.

In my bed.

Not that she was supposed to be mine. She wasn’t.

And yet, I felt it. That creeping, possessive itch under my skin. The kind I had no business feeling for a girl who wasn’t even supposed to be here.

The coffee machine beeped. I grabbed the cup, burning my fingers as I made my way back to the room.

And now, here I was. Standing in the doorway, holding a bag of cheap motel clothes, watching her like a complete fucking idiot.

Finally, Cheryl moved first. Or tried to. She stumbled—probably because her knees had gone weak, same as mine—and let out a strangled noise that sounded like a mix between a squeak and a curse. Her arm snapped across her chest, the other reaching blindly for the towel that she’d clearly been trying to grab before I rudely walked in on her being the most tempting thing in existence.

"Jesus Christ, Aiden—get out!"

Her voice was high, breathless, and I heard it in places I shouldn’t have.

I turned around so fast, I nearly walked straight into the wall.

"Yeah—yeah, I’m going, don’t get your panties in a twist—oh wait, you’re not wearing any," I muttered, my voice lower than I meant it to be.

A loud thud followed. Probably a bottle of shampoo being thrown at me. I didn’t stick around to check.

I stepped outside, letting the cool air slap me in the face, trying to get my pulse under control.

It wasn’t working.

I clenched my fists, exhaling through my nose.

What the hell was wrong with me?

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen naked women before. But this was different. Because it was Cheryl. Because she looked at me like she wished the earth would swallow her whole, and for a second, I’d wished I could be the one to do it instead.

My fingers twitched again. Bad thought. Stupid thought.

I ran a hand down my face and forced my legs to move, needing distance, needing air, needing anything that would kill the heat still running through my veins.

Because if I stayed in that room with her, wet and breathless and way too fucking close—

I wouldn’t be able to behave.

Cheryl’s POV

I wanted to die.

Right there. Right in the middle of this dingy motel room, still wet from the shower, still bare-ass naked, still feeling his eyes on me even though he had already walked out.

Aiden had seen me.

All of me.

And not in a "oops, caught a glimpse" kind of way. No, this was different. This was a full-body pause. A slow, burning stare. A moment that stretched too long and said too much.

I felt it. I felt him feeling it.

My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs, I thought it might burst through my skin. My breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, and my fingers dug into the towel wrapped around me like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I could block out the image of him standing there, holding a coffee cup, staring at me like he’d just been hit by a truck.

But it was burned into my skull.

The way his jaw clenched. The way his throat bobbed like he’d swallowed something sharp. The way his fingers twitched, like he had to physically stop himself from moving toward me.

And the worst part?

The absolute worst part?

I had liked it.

I had felt the heat in his stare, felt the way his eyes trailed down my body like a slow, deliberate touch—like a man memorizing a crime he wanted to commit.

And my stupid, traitorous body had reacted.

My skin tingled where his gaze had been. My stomach twisted, tight and hot, my thighs pressing together before I could stop myself.

I let out a strangled sound and threw myself onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow.

Get a grip, Cheryl.

I was supposed to be mad. Humiliated. Devastated, even. But instead, I was something else. Something dangerous.

I exhaled shakily, trying to calm my pulse. It wasn’t working.

Every time I blinked, I saw him.

His broad shoulders filling the doorway. His dark, tired eyes locking onto mine like a loaded gun.

I groaned and flipped onto my back, staring at the stained ceiling. What the hell just happened?

This was Aiden. Aiden.

My bully

Because for a second, he had looked at me like I was the most dangerous thing in the room.

And that?

That did something to me.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the towel as I forced myself to sit up. I had to get dressed, get out, get my head together.

But then—

A sudden knock on the door.

I jolted, heart leaping into my throat.

I already knew who it was before he spoke.

"Cheryl," Aiden’s voice came through, low and rough.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

I wasn’t ready for this.

Not for the tension. Not for the heat.

Not for the way my body would betray me all over again.