“I do forgive you,” she agreed, struggling to think. Not easy, since he’d slid his mouth to the underside of her jaw now and was nibbling his way to her ear, which set off a whole bunch of reactions. “But this still doesn’t change anything,” she managed, her hands on his shoulder, her fingers digging in. “You actually thought I could sleep with someone else when I was sleeping with you.” And just saying it out loud made her mad all over again.
“I said I was a dumbass, right?” he asked. “Complete dumbass. One hundred percent dumbass. Ask any one of my siblings, they’ll vouch for that.”
His mouth was at her ear now, his breath warm against her skin, and her eyes drifted shut as her hands clung to him. “It’s not that simple, Aidan.”
He pulled back and looked at her. “So you’ve forgiven but … not forgotten? Is that it?”
“Look, it’s not like you’re the only dumbass in the room,” she said, and grimaced. “I have a lot of dumbass tendencies when it comes to you as well.”
“Like?” he asked, eyes locked on hers.
She wanted nothing more than to burrow into him, but he’d made that impossible. Or maybe she’d made it so. “Like I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered. “Regardless of how I feel about you.”
“And how do you feel about me? You’ve kept that pretty tight to the vest.”
She met his gaze with difficulty. “I did start this story with the fact that I’m a dumbass too,” she reminded him, dropping her head to his chest. Panic gripped her. She knew she needed to do the whole talking through her feelings thing, but that was a lot easier said than done.
“Hey,” Aidan said, and when she didn’t look at him, he wound his hand in her hair and gently tugged until she lifted her face.
“What?” she asked, more than a little defensively.
His eyes had softened—when did that happen?—and he kissed her softly. “You take your time,” he whispered.
Stunned, she stood there.
Not Aidan. He went back to nuzzling now, making a low, very male sound deep in his throat, like maybe she was the best thing that had happened to him all day.
And then there were his hands. Big and somehow both rough and incredibly tender at the same time, slipping down her back to squeeze her ass—which elicited another of those sexy growls from him, damn him—and then up and beneath her shirt.
He was hot, too hot, body heat radiating off him, and that feeling she’d had that something was off came back. He was leaning on her again and breathing fast. Too fast.
All hard to focus on when his hands cupped her breasts. He groaned, maybe because she wasn’t wearing a bra. She might have asked him, but his work-roughened fingers rasped over her nipples and she couldn’t form a sentence.
“You smell good,” he murmured. “And you feel good. So fuckin’ good, Lily.”
Giving in, she ran her hands over him, too, unzipping his sweatshirt, peeling it off, letting it fall to the floor. This left him in his dark blue firefighter polo. “Aidan, why’s your shirt wet?”
“It’s not.”
“Yes,” she said. “It is—” She pulled back and her heart stopped. Just stopped. “Oh, my God, you’re covered in blood.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are!” She carefully tugged up his shirt and gasped. “You’re got a huge gash across your side.”
He looked down. “Huh. Look at that.”
She gaped at him. Then went hands on hips. “Strip,” she demanded.
His mouth quirked, but there was a tightness to it and a grimness to the set of his face, making her realize that he was in real pain. And he’d hidden it. “I mean it,” she said firmly. “Strip.”
“Not even going to buy me dinner first?” he asked, but kicked off his boots and then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He tried to pull his shirt over his head and hissed in a breath. “No go,” he said, and tore it off instead.
She gave a completely inappropriate shiver of sheer lust before taking in the bruises and cuts on his torso, and her heart squeezed again. All her fears coming to life right before her.
He’s still breathing, she reminded herself, trying to calm her racing pulse. And joking around. He was going to be okay but God … his poor body. “Oh, Aidan.”
“That’s ‘Oh, Aidan, I want to fuck you right now,’ right?” he asked with a male’s eternal optimism.
“Lie down,” she said, and pointed to the bed.
“Great idea,” he said, and flopped backward onto the bed. “I’m done in. Maybe you wouldn’t mind doing all the work on this round. I’ll take up the slack on round two.”
“Don’t move,” she commanded.
He flashed another brief smile. “Love it when you go all dominatrix on me.” He closed his eyes. “I’m all yours …”
She snatched his keys and his phone and ran out to his truck, thumbing through his contacts until she found Hudson.
“Yo,” he answered. “You’re alive. Thanks for answering your texts, asshat.”
“It’s not Aidan,” she said. “It’s Lily.”
“He all right?” Hudson immediately asked, going from pissed to emergency calm in zero point two.
“I think he needs stitches, but he won’t even admit he’s bleeding.”
“Of course not, he’s an idiot. Where is he?”
“My place. It’s—”
She was talking to dead air. “Damn Kincaids and their phone etiquette.” She unlocked Aidan’s truck and found his first-aid bag. She locked up the truck, turned back to her building, and plowed right into Hudson.
She put a hand to her heart. “You both need bells around your neck,” she said.
He took the duffel bag from her, shouldered it, and took her hand, pulling her along at his pace, which meant she was nearly running.
“He’s not bleeding out,” she promised.
“Of course not. He’s too ornery for that.” Inside, he headed straight for her bed and sat on the mattress at Aidan’s side. He looked over his brother’s injuries, swore, then strode into the bathroom, where she could hear him washing his hands. When he came back, he started digging into the bag.
“I’m fine,” Aidan muttered.
“You’re a dumbass,” Hudson responded.
Aidan opened his eyes and slitted Lily a look of amusement, which vanished quickly when Hudson squirted something over Aidan’s raw chest.
Aidan swore the air blue.
“Suck it up,” Hudson said, and tore open a pack that looked suspiciously like a suture kit.
“What are you doing?” Lily gasped, when Hudson began stitching up Aidan, who lay there perfectly still, his hands fisted in the bedding beneath him.
“Don’t worry,” Hudson said without looking up from what he was doing, which, near as she could tell, was torturing Aidan, given the seriously profane muttering still coming from his mouth.
Don’t worry? Was he kidding? She felt bells clanging in her head, and her vision got cobwebby. “You’ve … done this before?”
“I became a pro on Jacob, although I think this one puts Aidan in a dead tie.”
She made a sound that was pure anxiety, and Hudson spared her a look, narrowing his eyes. “You going to faint?”
“No!” Maybe …
He held her gaze, his own steady. “I need a cold, damp washcloth or something and a glass of ice water. Lily,” he said firmly, when she just stared at him. “Go.”
She ran to the kitchenette and came back with both, which she held while she stared at the scene before her.
Aidan was gritting his teeth and staring up at the ceiling, his face damp with sweat. Her heart squeezed, and she moved to his other side and put her hand over his.
He flicked her a quick gaze of surprise and managed a smile for her.
She rolled her eyes at him and sat at his side. “And we didn’t get him to the hospital why?” she asked Hudson.
“Hello, have you met him?” Hudson asked. “He’s got more rocks in his
head than actual brains.”
“Fuck. You,” Aidan said between his gritted teeth. “Last time I stitched you up, you cried for your mama.”
Lily divided a horrified look between the two of them. “You two play doctor a lot?”
Hudson shrugged. “Shit happens.” He glanced up from his hands to Aidan’s face, smirked, and then went back to work. “Hate to crack his image for ya, but he’s really just a big baby, emphasis on big.”
Apparently, Aidan only had enough energy to spare for a growl. Then he went on with his steady stream of swearing, directing it at Hudson.
Hudson just kept calmly stitching. “You know safety means everything to him, right? That he rarely gets hurt and if he does it’s only because he’s put someone else’s safety first?”
Lily realized he was talking to her, and she stared at him.
“And he’s never out there alone, doing something he shouldn’t be doing,” he said. “He’s got Mitch or me at his back. We won’t let anything happen to him.”
She swallowed hard at the realization of what he was trying to tell her, that Aidan wasn’t going to do anything like climb Dead Man’s Cliff on his own without ropes and fall to his death.
She nodded, and Hud gave her a reassuring smile and went back to stitching, and then finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only twenty minutes, tied off the last stitch. Leaning over Aidan, he very gently added some ointment, and then carefully covered the entire injury with gauze and wrapping. His hands moved efficiently and professionally, and yet there was an affection and care very clear in every single touch.
When he was done, he kept a steadying hand on Aidan and said his name quietly.
Aidan opened his eyes and looked at him.
“Where to?” Hudson asked. “Because I’m about to drug you, and you’re going to stay horizontal for twelve hours.”
“I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Hudson twisted to Lily, took the ice water and cool washcloth, and turned back to Aidan. He ran the cool cloth over Aidan’s face before tossing it aside and handing his brother the glass.
Aidan downed it in what seemed like two gulps.
“More?” Hudson asked quietly.
“I’m good.”
Hudson rolled his eyes and turned to Lily. “He’s good.”
She gave a small smile.
“He staying here with you?” Hudson asked her.
She glanced at Aidan, who was watching her from those melting brown eyes. “Yes.”
“He thinks he’s ‘good,’” Hudson warned. “But he’s full of shit. He’s dehydrated from working the fire, so keep him in fluids.”
“And his injury?”
“He’s had worse. Just keep him down as long as you can. And good luck with that, by the way.” Hudson headed to the door.
Lily followed him. “Are you sure he’s going to be okay?”
“Physically, yeah. He’s running a pint low, but sleep is all he really needs.”
“What about … not physically?”
At the front door, Hudson paused and turned to look at her. “Not physically?”
“Yeah.” She spoke low enough for only him to hear. “You know, mentally.”
Hudson studied her a moment and then spoke just as quietly. “I think you’ve got him all twisted up. Again.”
“Again?” she repeated.
“Look, you left Cedar Ridge for some damn good reasons. I get it. You needed off the mountain. But you left a hole in him, Lily, one he’s never quite closed.”
“My leaving here had nothing to do with him,” she said.
He lifted a hand to stop her from saying anything more, not that she would have. “Like I said, I get it,” he said. “But I also get that you’re only here until something else comes along. For his sake, I hope that’s soon. Because the longer you stay, Lily, the harder it will be on him when you go again.”
She stared at him, so intense, so protective of his older brother, and she missed that bond she’d once had with Ashley like she’d miss a limb if it got cut off. “You’re making a lot of assumptions,” she said.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Just don’t hurt him again, Lily.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Hudson searched her gaze and, not looking relieved in the slightest, he nodded at her and left.
Lily locked up, got another glass of water and a plate of cheese and crackers—look at her playing nurse—and headed back to the bed where she stopped to eyeball her patient.
He was in the exact same position as when they’d left him a few moments ago, flat on his back, arms stretched above his head.
Fast asleep.
Chapter 27
One minute Aidan was dreaming about Lily falling off the mountain the same way Ashley had, and the next he was wide awake. Heart pumping, he looked around. Given the darkness of the room it was the middle of the night. Unsettled, still shaken, he lay on his back in a bed that wasn’t his with a woman who wasn’t his snuggled in at his side. Lily had thrown one of her legs over his, her hand low on his belly.
And damn, in that moment it sure felt like she was his.
He’d been here with her for more than twenty-four hours. He had an arm around her, an arm that was half numb, his hand settled all possessively over her ass.
He really wished he could feel that hand.
Willing the blood back into his extremity, he squeezed experimentally and Lily shifted with a soft sigh.
Then went utterly still. Slowly, she lifted up to look down into his face. “How are you doing?” she asked.
He thought about it. His side ached, but not bad, considering. He owed Hud. “Never better.”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m all over you,” she said. “I’m sorry—”
“I like it.”
She snorted. “You like everything.”
Hard to argue with the truth. “I especially like having you back in Cedar Ridge,” he murmured, watching the emotions his words caused play across her face.
Pleasure. Arousal … and uncertainty. It was hard for him to know she didn’t believe or trust in emotions. Hers.
His.
But he understood. He’d set them back. “Are we okay, Lily?”
She met his gaze, her own uncertain.
“Huh,” he said. “I was sure me nearly bleeding out was going to change your mind.”
“I just need some time, I think. Not because of our fight, just because of me. I’m not used to this. To … being an us.”
He could understand that. He was surrounded by family who drove him crazy and lived to torment him, but they’d lay their lives down for him.
Lily didn’t have any of that and hadn’t for a long time. He did his best to be quiet, to just feel the relief that she was no longer pushing him away. That she was trying in the only way she knew how.
“I like being back,” she finally said softly. “I like being in this world again.”
“It’s your world too.”
She shrugged, and he lifted her chin to look into her eyes. There was no way to go back and comfort the devastated,