Chapter 26

Lily's POV

I banged my apartment door shut such that the walls trembled. It wasn’t because I was scared, it was from hot pure rage and something even uglier I didn’t want to name.

“You can’t just go making decisions like that without discussing it with me first,” I screamed at Aiden as he made his way into the trailer.

He was in my entryway, jaw set and those blue eyes searing with an intensity that flipped my stomach. His suit jacket was missing, his tie loosened, the first button of his shirt undone. He was sin on a stick, wrapped up in designer clothes and I hated that even when I was livid with him, like now, all I wanted to do was slide onto his body.

“The San Francisco transaction is significant for the company,” he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Three months, Lily. That's all."

“You decided three months without asking me.” I flung my purse on the couch. “With Sophia Chen, of all people. The woman that has been eye fucking you since I layed eyes on her.”

His eyes darkened. "Don't be crude."

“Don’t be naive,” I shot back. "I saw how she looked at you. How she touched your arm at that conference. She wants you, Aiden."

He edged closer, gently pushing me back against the wall. "And what if she does? Huh\] You think I would even do that about it?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” My back against the wall, and there he was, only inches from me. “You keep picking work over us. Over me."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" I pounded his chest and he wouldn’t move. “Every time we get close, every time it seems like we’re making something real, your phone rings and I lose you.”

"You're being dramatic." His hand hit the wall on each side of my head framing me. "This is a deal. One important deal."

“With a woman who’s trying to fuck you.” The breathy words came because he was inches away and I could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body.

“I don’t give a fuck what Sophia wants.” Now his face was inches from my face. “I want to create something that’s lasting. Something bigger than just me."

“What if we built something together?” I hated how helpless I sounded. “Or do I just happen to be available when you’re in town?”

Something shifted in his expression. There was a slip of the control, and beneath it I saw raw emotion. Anger, yes, but also hunger. The same pang that had burned in me.

"Convenient?" His voice was as low as warm persecution. You think any of this is happening not incredibly awkwardly?”

“I guess you want me when it fits in your schedule.”

His hand went to my hip and, holding on tightly until I gasped. "I need you all the time. It's inconvenient as hell."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"Because, I don't have the luxury of just painting and calling that work." His thumb dug into the bone of my hip. "Some of us have responsibilities. Employees who depend on us. Investors who expect results."

“Don’t you dare talk down my job” I snapped but I sounded wobbly and not quite right, because his other hand had left my hip to slide between my thighs where it was tucking under the hem of my dress.

"I'm not." His hands skimmed higher, the tips finding the waistband of my panties. “But you have to know the world doesn’t revolve around waiting for you to get what you want.”

"Fuck you." I attempted to shove him again, but he grabbed my wrist and pressed it into the wall above my head.

"Is that what you want?" His fingers wormed under the lace, into me where I was wet and ready in spite of my snit. Maybe because of it. "You want me to fuck you?"

I chewed on my lip, not providing an answer, but my body did. My hips drove forward, wanting more, and my clit made contact.

"That's what I thought." He shoved his fingers inside me with no warning and I gasped. “You can be mad all you want, your body knows who it is.”

"I'm not anyone's," I gasped but the words held no sway over his when he hooked his fingers inside of me, finding that spot which turned my legs to swiss cheese.

"No?" And he worked his fingers very slowly" Then why are you all this wet over me? Why the fuck are you humping my hand like you can’t control it?”

"I hate you right now." But I was, exactly as he said, riding his fingers and chasing the pleasure that only he could give me.

"Liar." He added another finger and I whined. "You hate that you need me. That's different."

He was right and I hated that as well. I hated how my own body had betrayed me for him, how I never dared to be angry with him, because even when he enraged me to the point of insanity, it was that feeling which amped up my need for his body inside mine. He slid a thumb over my clit and I moaned, letting my head fall back against the wall.

"There it is," he muttered against my neck, and bit down with his teeth. "Take what you need."

I was right there, the tension peaking with each thrust of his fingers, each wet slide of his thumb. My free hand raked over his shoulder, digging in no doubt through the expensive shirt fabric. I didn't care.

“Aiden,” I moaned, so close.

And then he stopped.

His fingers stilled in me, and his thumb moved away from my clit. I gasped with anger and my eyes flew open to meet his.

"What are you doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson." His smile was cruel. “You don’t get to come until you acknowledge that you belong to me.”

"Go to hell." But I had thrust against his hand, wanting the friction.

He removed his fingers and I nearly cried. He took them in his mouth and pulled on my nipple, drawing the dust away as he looked into my eyes. The vision was so arousing I nearly came without touching myself.

“Three months in San Francisco,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just had his fingers inside of me. “We'll discuss this when I get back. About us. About what we both want."

"You're leaving me like this?" My voice was raised and panicky.

"You'll survive." He stepped back, adjusting himself. I got to see how hard he was in his pants and it made me feel a little bit of satisfaction. "Cold showers work wonders."

"You're an asshole."

“You like when I’m an asshole. Then he headed for the door, and I slipped to a classless, barefoot heap down against the wall as I was left feeling empty and wanting.”

Once he had left it was as if I was rooted to the spot on that warm gravel but then again I almost felt high from want. I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something. Instead, I lurched my way to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed with a hand between my legs.

But it wasn't the same. My fingers didn’t feel like his. Dint know my body like his did. I masturbated twenty minutes, getting myself to the edge and back over and over again without ever going all the way there. It was as if my body had taken and addiction to him, and would no longer respond to anyone else entirely. Even me.

Finally, fed up and tired, I pocketed my phone. My fingers acted before my brain could hold them in check.

"You're an asshole," I texted.

His response came immediately. “You love it when I’m a dick.”

I glared at my phone, the emotions skirmishing away inside me — hating him, wanting him, utterly disoriented by this thing that had sprouted out of us. My fingers moved again.

“Your fingers inside me keep popping into my mind, and I can’t stop thinking about that.”

Three dots popped up, disappeared and then reappeared.

"Good. That was the point."

"I tried to finish myself. Couldn't."

"I know. Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mouth is too proud to say so.”

Wouldn't it have made more sense to be angry about how slick he was? Instead, I was getting wet again, my hand sliding back to my legs.

“What are you even doing right now?” I typed with my free hand.

I’m now sitting in my car outside your building. Hard as fuck. "Think I should come back up?"

"Don't. I'm still mad at you."

"Liar. You’re around the corner touching yourself right now aren’t you?”

How did he know? "Maybe."

"Tell me how wet you are."

This was insane. We had just had a giant fight. He was heading out for 3 months. But my fingers were already moving, collecting the damp.

"Soaked," I admitted.

"Fuck. What are you thinking about?"

"Your fingers. Your mouth. You know, that thing with your tongue.”

"Keep going. Tell me more."

I had no inhibitions left, my need and disappointment consumed away by the fire. “I’m dreaming of what you taste like. How you feel inside me. How you make me fucking scream your name.”

"Are you close?"

"Yes." My fingers picked up speed and my other hand closed on my breast through the material of my shirt.

"Good girl. Come for me, Lily. Let me know you’re mine when I’m not there.”

The consent the command in his words sent me over that edge. I drifted half-asleep between the pleasure and the pain until I came, back arching off the bed as his name fell from my lips like both prayer and curse, no longer sure which of them he was.

When I could breathe again, I checked my phone.

"Did you come?" he'd texted.

"Yes."

"Good. Meanwhile think how much you would enjoy it if that was my cock and not your fingers up inside of my ass. Just think about that for the next three months.”

I read the message and was angry all over again. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. “But keep saying that to yourself if it makes you feel better.”

I hurled my phone across the room and buried my face in a pillow, screaming into it. Aiden Cole was going to make me crazy, and worse still I wasn’t convinced that I wanted him to.