Because in that moment, Kaylee would have followed him anywhere.
THE STORAGE ROOM was dark and smelled faintly of chemicals. After a moment, Aidan found a light switch, and a single yellow bulb buzzed to life, revealing a small room filled with cleaning supplies and paper products lined up on four shelving units.
Kaylee didn’t have time to notice anything else, though, because Aidan grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the door, and then finally, he was kissing her. His lips crashed down on hers, his tongue driving into her mouth with a hungry urgency that shocked and delighted her. He tasted a little bit like beer and a lot like sex, and she couldn’t help a groan of satisfied pleasure at the culmination of her longest-held fantasy. Kissing Aidan Beckett.
Take that, Natasha Campbell.
Kaylee buried her fingers in his thick hair, raking her nails over his scalp, running her fingertips along his neck and across his shoulders before she pushed his jacket down his arms and he let go of her long enough for it to fall to the floor with a satisfying thump.
Then his hands were back on her hips, and he’d spun around, walking her backward until she collided with a shelving unit.
He stared down at her, and Kaylee shivered at his hungry look. He shifted closer, cradling her jaw as he lifted her face to resume their kiss. His fingers flirted with the edge of her hair, and some part of her recognized the danger even as his mouth tried to drag her into an abyss of pleasure.
Kaylee had to distract him, keep him away from the wig. She covered his hands with hers, pulled them down her neck and over her collarbone to the top of her corset. Aidan pulled back, but the moment of worry that he’d figured out this wasn’t her hair dissipated as he stared down at her, ran a finger over the swell of her cleavage, the look on his face almost reverent. Kaylee watched as he set about unhooking the closures of her bustier, his long, blunt fingers surprisingly deft on the tiny fasteners. She was mesmerized by the look of concentration on his face as he worked diligently on his task. Just him and her, and an understanding born of heavy breathing and no words.
Her corset joined his jacket on the concrete floor, and she bit her lip to keep from mewling with frustrated pleasure as he cupped her breast, running his thumb across the sparkly black pasty that kept her nipple from basking in the attention it craved.
He was so goddamn gorgeous. The years had been kind to him, darkening his golden hair, turning his features more rugged, widening his shoulders and sculpting his body. He was all man now, and proving her younger self wrong, for teenage Kaylee hadn’t believed there was a way to improve on the perfection of him.
And now he was hers to kiss, to touch, and she didn’t want to miss anything.
She reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pushed it up his chest. Aidan was quick on the uptake, pulling it the rest of the way off. Kaylee couldn’t help her sigh. His chest was a masterpiece, all ridges and planes, a smattering of hair across well-defined pecs, and abs that deserved to be immortalized on the cover of a fitness magazine. And then, just for good measure, there was a six-inch scar along his ribs to mar all that perfection and make him look even sexier. Even more dangerous.
She couldn’t remember wanting anyone so badly.
Leaning forward, she kissed her way along the ridges of his stomach as she tugged her ruffled panties down her thighs. They fell to the ground, and she licked her way back up to his clavicle.
The rough sound of his voice as he swore raised goose bumps across her chest.
She reached for the button on his jeans, undid it, and then gave his zipper a firm tug, reveling in the inadvertent brushes of her fingers against the evidence of his desire.
At some point he’d retrieved a condom from somewhere, and she tugged her borrowed skirt up her legs in preparation as he pulled himself free of his underwear. Jesus, he was beautiful. Long and thick. Kaylee watched in fascination as he fisted his cock, stroking the length of it twice before rolling on the condom with his other hand.
She was so turned on, desperate for him to ease the ache he’d built inside her. Everything went still for a moment, and then they were all over each other, and he was hoisting her up, the edge of the cold metal shelf pressing into her bare ass. Kaylee grabbed the shelf above her head as an anchor.
The thrill of wanting to touch him but not being able to heightened her pleasure as he buried his lips against her neck and pushed deep inside her. She was so wet, so primed for this, the culmination of this incredible night, and the hot, sweet friction didn’t disappoint. He growled with pleasure, nipping the sensitive skin of her neck before laving it with his tongue.
Oh God. This illicit tryst made her feel so damn sexy, like being onstage but more potent. More visceral. To be lusted after by this man she’d wanted for so long was everything. She locked her ankles together at the small of his back, glorying in his panting thrusts, loving everything about the moment. The clean, spicy smell of him, the rasp of his beard abrading her skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.
Aidan was fucking her in a dive-bar supply closet.
Aidan was fucking her like he meant it.
Aidan.
It was too much. Too much sensation. Too many feelings.
The tingling in her abdomen said she was close, even though it was way too soon.
Desperate to touch him, she let go of the shelf above her head and grabbed his face. His beard prickled the palms of her hands as she buried her fingers in his hair and dragged his lips to hers, gasping against his mouth as she came.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, gathering force as it rolled through her before crashing in a burst of pleasure that put everything she’d ever accomplished with her showerhead to shame.
This was not what she was used to—staid, missionary sex with a long-term partner.
This was passion unleashed. Elemental.
This was a decade of wanting made real.
When he’d grabbed her hand and tugged her into a supply closet, Aidan had been expecting a quick, utilitarian fuck against the wall. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to melt all over him after a couple of strokes, but she’d definitely come, gasping against his mouth before she’d kissed him into oblivion.
Sexy as fuck.
And yeah, it had been a while for him, sure, but that didn’t explain the way she was blowing his mind right now. There was something about this woman, something different that he didn’t understand at all.
He slid his hands up her torso until his thumbs made contact with the soft, sweat-slick undersides of her breasts, and he wondered what shade of pink her nipples might be under the sparkly pasties. Not knowing just made him want her more. He flexed the fingers of his left hand on her rib cage as though he might be able to feel the butterfly etched into her skin.
He was so goddamn close, but he wasn’t ready to lose this mindless pleasure quite yet, wasn’t ready for this to be over. And then, to his surprise, she tightened her legs around his waist and started undulating her hips. The way she was grinding and twisting herself against him and the sudden restlessness of her body, the soft noises she made in her throat, signaled she was going for round two.
Jesus. She was going to come again, and the realization made him so hot that it took everything in him to hold off the heat and desperation that was building in his balls, the unstoppable rocking of his hips.
He focused on the bite of her nails on his skin, doing his best to read the rhythm of her movements, granting her wordless requests as she brought herself to the brink again, falling over the edge with a sweet cry, and this time, he couldn’t help but follow.
His