Final Call (Call #2)(20)
Author: Emma Hart

“I condensed a week of meetings into a few days. I had no choice but to attend them, but the second I could leave, I was on the plane back to New York.”

“Why?” I swallow and look at him.

His mom might have told me, but I need to hear it from him. My crazy mind, the insanity he makes me feel, needs to hear it. It needs to hear something to validate the relationship he believes he pays for but is so very real.

Aaron’s lips curl slightly at the corners, and he brushes some hair from my face. He leaves his hand cupping my head and draws our faces closer together.

“Because I couldn’t be away from you for any longer than I had to be. I couldn’t stand by and not fight for you when you were back here. There wasn’t a single part of me that would let me do that.”

“Your fighting could use some work.” I tap his nose. “Pinning a girl to her front door and kissing the shit out of her isn’t exactly a way to win back her heart.”

“But you’re so stubborn,” he teases. “You wouldn’t listen to what I had to say, so I had to make you feel it instead. Of course, I ultimately decided you were going to listen to me anyway.”

I narrow my eyes. “Men.”

His parents rejoin us, and I slide back along the booth seat. Aaron clasps my hip and slides me back into him, and he digs his fingers into my skin in a warning. Don’t move.

A light is shining in his mom’s eyes, and the way his dad is smiling tells me that they were watching from the bar. At least his mom was.

“So, son,” Brandon begins after checking we all have enough to drink, “are you all ready for London?”

I stop, raise an eyebrow, and slowly turn my face to Aaron. “London?”

He parts his lips then closes his mouth again, instead choosing to wet his bottom lip.

“Aaron! You didn’t tell her?” Carly scolds him.

“No, no he didn’t,” I answer for him. “Evidently we need to work on the talking part of our relationship.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in a move so slight I’m sure only I noticed it. His grasp on me tightens even more, like he wants to hold on to my last two words and not let them go in case he’s imagining it.

“Yes,” he says slowly. “Evidently, we do.”

“I’m sorry. Did I say ‘we’? I meant you.” I smile sweetly and lay my hand on his chest.

“I guessed as much. You talk enough for the both of us, sweetheart.”

“And apparently you should tell me to shut up once in a while.” I jab him with my finger.

Aaron sighs and looks at his father. “Thank you, Dad. If you don’t mind, I think Dayton and I will call it a night. Apparently, we have an upcoming trip to discuss.”

We say our goodbyes, all the while my eyes cutting to Aaron in displeasure. Is this something he’s conveniently declined to mention yet again?

I get into the waiting town car without a word to him, and his sigh drifts across the car to me.

“Are you mad at me again?”

“I haven’t stopped being mad at you. I just got better at hiding it.” I spin in my seat. “When do you go?”

“In three days.”

“And when were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t. I was obviously planning to kidnap you in the dead of night, sling you over my shoulder, and hoist you off to London for ten days.” He grins.

“Cor, don’t hold back. Romance me, baby.” I roll my eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re really mad I didn’t, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m mad! Is this how it’s always going to be? Am I always going to be finding these kind of very important things out from other people?”

He rubs a hand down his face, and I follow him from the car. He doesn’t reply as we walk through the lobby and step into the elevator to take us to his penthouse apartment. Silence lingers through the journey, the only thing between us is my anger and his rapidly developing annoyance.

I can always tell. His hand twitches and he flexes his fingers when it’s building in him, and his eyes take on this heated hardness. I’m sure the heated part is only for my benefit, but angry looks good on him.

“No,” he finally says when we enter the apartment. “It honestly slipped my mind until Dad mentioned it tonight. I would have remembered when I arrived at the office tomorrow and seen it on my schedule.”

“Then you would have called me right away, correct?”

“No. I would have gone to my scheduled meeting then called you.”

I huff and stalk into the spare room. Dammit, I don’t even want to be here tonight. I want to go home and sink into the comfort of my own bed. I want to cocoon myself in my blankets and just breathe.

The floorboards creak as Aaron follows me. I slide my fingers beneath the shoulder of my dress, ready to push it down, but his hand stills the movement. His breath cascades over my bare neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end.

“Is this how it’s always going to be?” he whispers, repeating my own words back to me. “I do something wrong and you get mad at me?”

“There’s no getting.” I shrug his hand off. “I’m never not mad. We’ve covered this several times.”

He pulls me back into him, tilting my head to one side. His fingers splay on my stomach and hold me in place, trapped against the hardness of his body. “Even when I make you come?” His finger slips beneath my dress strap and slides it over the curve of my shoulder. “Are you mad at me then?”

“Deliriously so.” I sigh when he kisses the part of my neck where it meets my shoulder, that tender, erotic spot that seems to be connected to every nerve in my body.

“I like your deliriously mad.” His lips brush across the bottom of my neck, and he gathers my hair in his free hand, exposing the other side of my neck. He lets the dark locks fall to the side as he slides the other side of my dress down. “I wanted you in this dress the second I saw it, but now I believe I’d much prefer you out of it.”

Everything in me comes alive. My nerve endings tingle animatedly until the deep ache of my clit overshadows it. I curve into him instinctively as he stands before me. His skin is hot as my hands find his waist, but the connection lasts only seconds before he steps back. My hands fall to my sides, and he moves to me again.

“No touching,” he murmurs, the low, demanding growl in it making me shiver.

His fingers trace the neckline of the dress, ghosting over the curve of my br**sts, and his fingers are soon replaced by his hot mouth as he drags the material down my body. It’s so effortless for him, peeling the tight outfit from me, even as he lavishes attention on my br**sts.