Final Call (Call #2)(22)
Author: Emma Hart

Because it’s real, and it’s tangible, and it’s something that won’t slip through my fingers if I hold tight enough.

“What are you doing?” I mumble when I feel him tying my hair up.

“I don’t want to get it wet,” he answers.

A few seconds later, the sound of a bottle squirting reaches my ears, and I feel the cold shock of the shower gel against my back. I squeal and squirm.

Aaron laughs, his chest vibrating, and rubs his hands over my back. It warms instantly, and I smile as he washes my body. Every part of me is washed, even my submerged legs. He grabs a sponge and trickles the water over me, washing the soap from my body, the whole time without me moving.

The man is magical. And really quite wonderful.

“Come on, Bambi,” he says softly, easing me back.

I slide from him, letting him get out, and stare up at him. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs me. I giggle quietly at the ease he lifts me from the tub with and grab a towel for myself.

I sit on the bed and watch as he dries himself. And as the little water droplets cascade down his silky skin. Each one is gradually soaked up by the towel, and a pair of boxer briefs hangs low on his hips.

He towels me off tenderly, making sure every part of me is dry, and instructs me to lift my arms and legs until he’s certain there isn’t a drop of water left on my skin.

“Wait here.” He disappears into his closet. I’m sitting naked on his bed, the only light the city lights flooding through the window, and I’ve never felt more comfortable.

He emerges from the closet, a pair of panties in hand.

“Is that…?”

“I ordered more.” He hands them to me with a knowing smirk.

“That’s impossible. It was like”—I glance at the clock on the nightstand—“six hours ago.”

“And I called while you were getting ready and had some stuff delivered. My housekeeper put it away.”

“Your housekeeper?”

Holy crap. Someone else touched my panties.

Someone who isn’t Aaron.

He pulls them up my legs, making me stand, and lightly smacks my ass. “Don’t worry. She only comes in when no one is here. Her schedule will be different now.”

I roll my eyes and climb into his bed. Soft. Warm. Sex-smelling.

Aaron-smelling, rich and musky and woody and masculine.

He gets in next to me and pulls me into him. Our legs tangle. His arms go around me and he holds me tight. I press my face into his neck, breathing him in.

“How am I doing on the making it up to you?” he mutters after a long moment of silence.

“Not bad.” I smile against his skin.

“Not bad?”

My smile widens, but I say nothing. If I justify it, I’ll let him in further than I need to. I’ll tell him what he doesn’t need to know yet. He still has work to do. He still has to prove everything to me, make me know we’re solid and that everything we have is secure. That it’s really for real this time.

“Thank you for looking out for me tonight,” I whisper, snuggling in even farther. I could be under his skin and it wouldn’t be close enough.

“Oh,” he breathes, kissing my head. “I’ll always look after you, Dayton. Always.”

***

Aaron opens the car door and lets me climb out. “You could stay at my apartment.”

“I need to be here. I need to pack,” I remind him, patting his chest. “Besides, I don’t want to put any crazy moving ideas in your presumptuous little head.”

“God forbid.” He drops his head and brushes his lips across mine. “I’ll be back when my meetings are over to pick you up.”

“What if I want to stay at my place tonight?”

“Then I’ll make sure to get some spare clothes before I come over.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did I invite you to stay over?”

“You don’t need to,” he mutters, running his thumb along my jaw. “I’m going to anyway.”

“Is this part of making it up to me?”

“No. This is part of making sure you can’t walk away again.”

“By being together almost all of the time?”

“Yes. Get used to it, sweetheart. It’s not changing anytime soon.”

He kisses me chastely and moves me to the side. He climbs back in the car with a wicked smirk, leaving me standing on the sidewalk as it pulls away.

“Bastard,” I mutter, pulling my keys from my pocket and unlocking the door. My voicemail blinks at me, and I jab the button as I walk past.

“Dayton? Call me when you get this. We need to talk.” Aunt Leigh’s voice is sharp and to the point, as always, and I sigh. Talking with my aunt right now is the last thing I want to do.

I reach for the phone when it rings again. Her name flashes on the tiny screen.

“Hey,” I answer. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh good. You’re in. Where have you been?”

“Uh…”

“Dayton.”

I cringe as I answer. “With Aaron.”

“Mmm. Monique called. Will you be at home in ten minutes?”

“Yes. I just got back.”

“Good. Stay there. I’m coming over.”

Fantastic.

The line cuts before I can say goodbye, and I drop the phone with another sigh. There isn’t a single part of me looking forward to this. I know what she’ll say, what she’ll remind me of. This conversation is unnecessary.

I don’t care and I don’t want to hear it.

Besides, it’s a little late to not fall in love, isn’t it?

I hear the rumble of her Audi outside as I pour myself a cup of coffee. She lets herself in without as much as a single knock. Her heels click almost formidably against the wooden floors as she walks through to join me in the kitchen, and I hold an empty mug over my shoulder.

“Coffee?”

“Sit,” she demands, knocking on the island.

“I guess not,” I mumble, setting the mug down and turning.

I sit opposite her. Her lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed, and her nails rap against the marble countertop repeatedly. I reach over and smack her hand down. Fucking irritating sound.

“So. You’re off the books.” No questions. A simple statement that sounds so final.

“Temporarily,” I correct her. “For now.”

She unwinds her lightweight scarf from her neck and lays it on the island. “So, what? You’re going to spend however long with Aaron Stone then just go back to your job? Or is he the kind of man to let you continue f**king other men every day and not let it impact your relationship?”