“I saw the news.” I keep my voice soft and soothing and even, putting as much understanding and compassion into the words as I can. “Are you alright?”

His eyes dart to the left, and he swallows thickly. That muscle in his cheek twitches again.

“No.” His eyes come back to mine, more alive than they were, almost burning with emotion. “I’m not.”

We look at each other, a palpable current in the air. The breeze picks up, blowing between us, ruffling my hair. I wonder if he can smell my shampoo when the wind blows like that. I can smell him—a clean, spicy scent, his body wash warmed up.

For a few seconds, all I can see is his face—the sharp jawline, his hair mussed like he’s been grabbing it. “I’m not either,” I admit to him.

Aden narrows his eyes.

I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me like this. I wish I could look into his mind. But I’m here, in my body, my pulse fluttering and warmth spreading over my torso as our eyes stay on each other.

I lift my hand up slowly and place my palm on the door—not pushing, just suggesting.

Aden pauses, letting out a deeper breath.

Then he opens the door wider, inviting me in.

I step inside, into the warmer air of Aden’s narrow entryway. One of the floorboards creaks under my feet. Aden backs up a little more, giving me the space to come fully inside, then reaches behind me to shut the door. It smells more like him in this house. The fresh air from outside mingles with us in the entryway.

I look up into Aden’s eyes. “Are you okay?” He’s not alright, but there are levels to that sort of thing. I change my question to a statement, “You’re going to be okay, everything will be,” I make a promise to him I can’t keep.

A low growl escapes his throat. His eyes, dark in the dim light, get even darker. I was wrong before. There is one light on in his house—a small lamp inside the den. The light just makes it into the hallway to cast shadows on his face. My heart beats faster.

“I need you.” Aden’s voice is tight and rough. “Now.”

“I know. I need you⁠—”

Before I can finish speaking, one of his hands flies to my throat. He buries the other hand in my hair, clenching his fingers tight.

This. This is what I need.

“On your knees,” he orders and between my thighs instantly heats.

I let him brace me down, helping things along by sinking to my knees.

“Good girl.” Aden’s eyes move over me.

“Please,” I whisper. I let them come, sinking into the sensation of his hand in my hair, pulling on the edge of too hard, and the harsh tone of his voice.