Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) (19 page)

“You have a lot of nerve coming in here,” he told Brad.

“Since when do you work here?”

“Since when is it any of your business?”

Brad threw up his hands. “Chill out. I just came to apologize.”

Aidan curled his fingers around my side. “Did he apologize?”

“Yeah.”

“Mission accomplished,” he told Brad. “Now get the hell out.”

“Yeah, forget it. I’m outta here.” Brad turned to go, but Aidan’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, one more thing . . .” Once he had Brad’s attention, Aidan continued, “I hope you told the sheriff about your argument with Six. You can bet I’ll mention it.”

“I told the cops everything I know.”

“What were you arguing about?” I asked.

“Maybe your boyfriend can figure it out.” He stomped from the bar without another word.

Mike arrived ten minutes later. “I called the power company, and the good news is they’re working on it. The bad news is they don’t know how long it’ll take. Might as well close down.” He got the attention of the customers and told them we were closing as soon as they finished their drinks.

We got through our closing duties the best we could without power and exited through the back where Aidan’s car was parked. The downpour soaked us before we could get inside.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Brad?” Aidan asked. He steered the car onto the highway, and I felt the wind beat against the windows. “I doubt it, but he knows something. Whatever it is, I’m guessing the sheriff knows about it too.”

Aidan pulled in front of his house and shifted the car into park, and then he dashed into the rain to manually open the garage door. Without power, an ominous chill permeated the night. By the time he returned, his hair was plastered to his head. He rolled inside, and we plunged into blackness the instant he shut off the engine.

“I can’t see a thing.” My voice shook.

He leaned toward me, and I heard the glove compartment pop open. He switched on a light.

“You must have been a boy scout. Flashlights . . . guns. Though I doubt they’d approve of the gun.”

“Me neither.”

“So what did you find out from Christie and her friends?”

“Pretty much what I told Brad. The brunette saw him and Six shouting in her driveway. She didn’t stick around to hear what they were arguing about, but she did notice a white van.” Aidan squeezed my hand. “Your dreams are right on the money, Mackenzie. I don’t know what to do about this weekend, but we’ve gotta find a way to stop him.” He handed me the flashlight, and we both exited the car. Even with the beam lighting the way, the hall was suffocatingly dark.

“I guess there isn’t much we can do tonight,” I said, “except go to bed. Hopefully the power will come back on soon.”

“Yeah.” We paused in front of the guestroom. “You keep the flashlight.” He leaned toward me the slightest bit, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss me or say something else, but whatever his intentions, he changed his mind. “Goodnight, Mackenzie.”

“Goodnight.” I didn’t enter the room until he vanished into his. Every part of my body was chilled. I would have given anything to take a long hot shower, but I wasn’t about to venture down that dark hallway. I changed quickly and then snuggled under the covers. The storm grew distant after a while, and I fell into a dreamless sleep until the thunder came back, until the noise morphed into the worst kind of nightmare.

I sprang up in bed, and my sobs mingled with an explosion of thunder. Without a second thought, I went to Aidan’s bedroom.

I inched toward his bed and stopped when the edge of the mattress connected with my thighs. A streak of lightning lit up his room, and for a second I watched him sleep, focusing my watery gaze on the movement of his chest. Only then did I allow myself to breathe. Relief flooded me, but then my dream hit me all over again and I choked back more sobs. I wrapped my arms around myself and let the tears fall.

It had seemed so real. Then again, most of my dreams did.

After a while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The outline of his body moved, and he sat up, as if he sensed me standing there. “What’s wrong?”

My lower lip trembled. “I need you to hold me.”

He reached for me, and I fell into his arms. “Another dream?”

I nodded but didn’t trust myself to speak. Fear was a formidable foe—it choked me as surely as the Hangman would if given the chance. I clung to him, my fingers biting into his skin, afraid he might slip through them if I let go. I still saw him falling; replayed the horrible moment over and over again.

“What did you see?” His unfailing acceptance of my dreams amazed me.

I shook my head, as if denying anything was wrong would make it so. Denial wouldn’t save me from the vision of his dark eyes, lifeless in the doppelgänger of a face I loved more than anything. “Aidan,” I said, and my voice cracked. I could say no more. Do no more. Except kiss him.

There was no panic this time as our mouths came together. He cocooned me in his arms, and I’d never felt so safe or wanted. I gripped his face and deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue past his lips and delving deeper. Despite my protest, he pulled away.

“Mackenzie, talk to me.”

“No.”

Our legs tangled as he pressed his body against mine. He thumbed away my tears, and I was suddenly aware of the scant clothing between us. His boxers. My tank top and shorts.

“I can’t stand it when you cry. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You were dead.” I wished I could erase the words, as if speaking them would make them true.

A bolt of lightning brightened the room again, and his expressive eyes met mine an instant before he dropped his head. “I’m right here,” he said, his breath teasing my ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Though we didn’t voice it, the fear was there stifling the air. He couldn’t guarantee his safety any more than I could mine, and the fact that I’d dreamed of his death was something I suspected neither of us wanted to face.

“There was a boom, like a gunshot, and you were falling. And your eyes”—my breath hitched, and I jerked at the crack of thunder that sounded overhead—“they were yours, but your face seemed different, like someone else’s.”

“It was just a dream, probably from the storm.” He nibbled the curve of my neck and then scraped his teeth along my arm as he pulled down a spaghetti strap. Gooseflesh erupted in his wake; I shivered all the way to my toes.

“Tell me if you’re scared,” he murmured against my skin.

I ran my hands over his shoulders. Despite the chilly temperature in the room, his skin was hot to the touch. “I’m scared you’re gonna stop.”

“In an instant if you want me to.”

My hands fell to the mattress as he edged my tank over the swell of a breast. His mouth hovered there. “Aidan . . . don’t stop.”

He feathered his fingers across my skin and that simple touch zinged like an electrical current between my thighs. I almost came undone when he closed his mouth over me. I arched into him, begging for more and praying he wouldn’t shy away again. He broke away long enough to slip my top over my head, and his mouth and hands trailed across my breasts, continued down my body until he found my belly button. I quivered under the languid exploration of his tongue.

And then he kissed his way lower, removing the last of my clothing as he rained kisses on my thighs. I should have been cold, and I was surprised I wasn’t scared, especially when he parted my thighs, but all I felt was the blessed ache between my legs that begged for his touch. He gripped my hips and brought me against the heat of his mouth.

I’d never known what it meant to be tortured with pleasure until then. He took me to the edge only to pull me back, again and again, until the edge shot higher with every whirl of his tongue, with every dip of his fingers, and he pushed me into the longest free fall of my life.

Arching above the mattress, I clawed at the sheets as a full body shudder tore through me. “Aidan!” I sobbed his name, a strangled plea in the darkness, though I wasn’t sure what I was pleading for. More of him, every inch of him. I didn’t know how long I lay there, trembling and gasping for air, my hands balling around the bedding, but when I opened my eyes, the outline of his face hovered over mine. He cradled my cheeks and kissed the tears from my skin. I hadn’t realized I was crying until then.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” I wrapped my legs around him and tingled all over again at how hard and snug he fit against me.

“I wish I could see you.” He lowered his forehead to mine and slowly pushed into the center of my heat.

I cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation of him filling me. It felt so right, being with him this way.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No . . . you feel incredible.”

“So do you,” he whispered.

Our bodies moved like the tide, slowly at first, and then with increasing tempo as raw need took over. Oh God . . . nothing had ever felt so good. I would never tire of this, would never get enough of him. His hair brushed the sweat on my brow, and his breath was like a drug to my senses. I claimed his mouth and smothered a moan.

He thrust deeper and then went still. “I can’t hold back,” he ground out.

“Let it go.”

A long groan rumbled from his chest, and he pushed even deeper as he buried his face in my hair. My name was a sigh on his lips, a breathy vow that whispered through my heart and awakened it. I laced our fingers and held on, and as we plunged into surrender, our echoing cries outmatched the thunder.

* * *
 

Aidan’s spot was empty. I sensed his absence before I opened my eyes. Footsteps moved around in the kitchen upstairs, and the aroma of coffee teased my nose. He must have been up a while.

Smiling, I stretched and enjoyed the way my body ached in places I’d forgotten about. I hadn’t slept so well since the first night he’d held me in his arms. There’d been no more dreams—just the sexiest man alive wrapped around me. The scent of him still lingered on my skin. I’d bottle that scent if I could.

I searched for my clothes and pulled on my tank top and shorts once I found them on opposite sides of the bed. Nerves set in when I trekked upstairs. Would we become victim to the awkward “morning after” syndrome? I hoped not. After everything we’d been through together, the idea seemed silly.

My body flushed the instant I saw him. He wore nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Standing in front of the stove with his back to me, he flipped an omelet with ease. My mouth watered, though it had nothing to do with the wafting smell of breakfast. He turned off the burner and transferred the omelet onto a plate and, almost as if he’d sensed my presence, turned around. A reassuring smile stretched across his face.

Something about the way he stood there, shirtless and barefoot with a spatula in his hand, drove me across the room. I reached for him and pulled his mouth down on mine. The spatula clattered to the floor, and his arms came around me and pulled until I couldn’t discern where he ended and I began.

He lifted me onto the center island and settled between my legs. “Food’s gonna get cold,” he breathed between kisses.

“I want you for breakfast.”

“I don’t taste as good.”

I nipped at his ear. “Omelets have nothing on you.”

He groaned against my shoulder. “What are we doing, Mackenzie?”

“Having breakfast?”

“I’m serious,” he said, but then he slid his fingers under my shirt.

“So am I.”

“If we end up back in bed, we’re never gonna leave it.” He bent down and kissed my stomach.

“Who says we need a bed?”

I guessed the idea appealed to him because he tugged at my shorts.

By the time our bodies cooled, so had the omelets. A quick reheat took care of that problem, and we sat down at the bar, keeping a good three feet between us for the sake of fueling ourselves with something besides each other.

I took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Caffeine should have its own food group.”

Aidan gestured toward my mug with his fork. “You live off that stuff, don’t you? I don’t think you’d eat if I didn’t feed you.” To prove his point, he fed me a bite of omelet.

I laughed as a string of cheese trailed down my chin. “Mmm, that’s pretty good too.”

“No more nightmares last night?”

I scooped in another bite and shook my head, but the reminder of the first dream dampened my Aidan-induced high. Before I was able to dwell on it, my cell vibrated on the counter. I gave him a puzzled look.

“I put it on the charger for you earlier. Figured you wouldn’t want a dead phone.”

“Thanks.” I stole a kiss and then moved across the kitchen. The call was from an unknown number. I answered with a bit of caution, and the voice on the other end sent a shiver through me.

“Don’t hang up,” he begged.

The months melted away, and his voice was still as familiar as my own.

“I’m 
sorry
, Mac,” his voice broke, and so did my composure. I dropped the phone back on the counter and then recoiled when he called back.

Aidan’s arms came around me from behind. “Who is it?”

“No one.”

“‘No one’ must be ‘someone,’ or you wouldn’t be going to pieces right now.” He reached for my cell before I could stop him.

“Come on, Aidan,” I said, turning around and trying to pry it from him, “give it back.” My fingers slipped, and he wedged the phone between his back and the counter.

“Not until you talk to me.”

Giving in to him was inevitable. “It’s Joe.”

“The guy you mentioned in your sleep? Who is he?”

“My ex-boyfriend.” This was not happening. How had we gone from breaking in his kitchen island to talking about my ex?

He gave me a suspicious look. “You said he didn’t—”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Aidan. Not about that.” My gaze fell to his feet, which were suddenly fascinating. I knew what was coming next. He wasn’t about to let this go.

“Who raped you?”

My cell went quiet. A few seconds of heavy silence passed before Joe tried again.

“His father.”

He pulled me into his arms. “Does Joe know?”