Vacant Heart

Chapter Nine

Aidan's kiss reveals more than any words can. What's initially a brutal attack quickly becomes a tender seeking of affection, a desire just at this moment realized. His lips part when mine do, his tongue slipping between them, just desperate enough to arouse me, and restrained enough to keep me wanting more.

His hands test my limits. One drops to urge me into his lap, the other snakes up behind my neck to clasp the tip of my spine, and surrender me in place. I rain kisses onto him attentively, shaken by how good it feels to be in his arms. The frosty window made initial touch cold, but the time we devote to each other leaves us burning, our proximity an internal fire.

Kissing him is strange. Kissing him is different. I'm not sure if it's the confessions he's made that make this embrace stronger than others. I'm not sure if it's his past, or the fact that he's clearly informed me that I'm the first woman he's looked at since his wife died. But, I'm blown away by his mouth, and his touch, and his vulnerability.

My grip is tight-locked in his luscious waves when our mouths slow, our kisses simmering to a halt in order for us to catch our breaths. Just as we came together on the same page, we stop ourselves too.

He gasps against my cheek, because even though we've taken a moment to collect ourselves, we have no desire to tear away from each other. My eyes close as his fingers gently squeeze on the back of my neck, his mouth pressing to my skin.

"Damn," I say aloud in my awe.

Lifting my face up while my fingers sift out of his hair and onto his neck, I stare down at him, enjoying the flush I see in his cheeks, the shade around his lips as a result from my roughness. His eyes, the foreign deep abysses, are what remind me of whose arms I'm in. And just as I'm about to panic, his head shakes from side to side.

"Let's not over think this, all right?"

He waits for my nod and smiles softly when he gets it.

"I want to take it slow," I whisper, even though I lean in close to his lips when I say it.

His eyes zero in on the inches between us. "We have all the time in the world, Josephine."

It's odd how content we are in silence. Our eyes adore each other, finding nothing at all strange about the all consuming way we've begun to look at each other in one measly day.

"What do you do in this place when you are here? How do you pass the time?" I ask, softly, admiring the flawlessness of his skin at this angle. The light from the window is shining along the curves, proving that he lacks most flaws.

"I read day and night when I'm not outside."

"You told me you have a library."

"An extensive one."

"I want to see it," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He seems to welcome the attention, although it's hard not to notice the hesitance that moves in and out of his pupils. He breathes in, and nods sharply.

"Let's go to the library then."

***

Aidan pushes the double doors open, and they groan at the intrusion, almost as if they were alive. The room is massive with ceilings high enough to accommodate a second story to hold all the contents. There are multiple tables spread along the ground, lamps and open texts perched on the surfaces, making the room look more like a university than a private hideaway. There are no windows here, unlike the rest of the house.

Bookshelves rise so high that a ladder has been added as a fixture, and like the movies, swings to the shelf desired like it's rolling on wheels. There isn't a spare spot for more books. All of the spaces are full, his home brimming with works of art—new and old.