Claire’s heart promptly soared to another dimension, a world where nothing existed but pleasure and Dylan and Aidan and love. God, she was such a mushy sap. But she couldn’t help it—those three words were the most wonderful thing she’d ever heard. Only three other words could rival it, the same three words actually, uttered by Aidan.
And just as easily as she’d expressed her feelings to Aidan, she didn’t hesitate telling Dylan what he meant to her. “I love you too,” she whispered.
The joy that lit his eyes made her smile. He was so quick to show his emotions, so ready to let the people he cared about into his heart.
No more words were spoken as Dylan dipped his head and kissed her. And then his hips were moving again, and Claire was swept away by a wave of pleasure that warmed every square inch of her body and rippled between her legs.
Dylan quickened the pace, his muscular ass flexing as he thrust into her, his chest slick with sweat and his green eyes awash with desire. He found release first, groaning, latching his mouth to hers in a blistering kiss as he came, and it was the feel of his c**k pulsing inside her and the hoarse sounds of his pleasure that triggered her orgasm.
Afterwards, they lay there with their legs tangled together and foreheads resting against each other.
“So you love me, huh?” he said, sounding as sated and contented as she felt.
“Mmm-hmmm. And you love me?”
“Damn right.”
Claire’s lips curved, but the smile faltered after a second. “I told Aidan I loved him too the other day.”
Dylan’s happy expression didn’t change. “I’m glad.”
“He didn’t say it back.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the same way. Because he does.”
“You sound so certain of that.”
“I am certain. He loves you, same way I love you. He just needs a little time before he mans up and tells you.”
Claire laughed softly. “He better not take too long.” She hesitated. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How do you feel about him? Do you…do you love him?”
It was a long time before Dylan answered, and when he did, his voice was laced with pain. “Yes. I love him.”
“Have you told him?”
“Of course not.”
She frowned. “Why ‘of course not’?”
“Because…well, because I haven’t.”
“Why not?” she pushed. “Why was it easy for you to tell me you love me, but you can’t tell him how you feel about him?”
“Because when I said it to you, I knew you’d say it back. I knew you loved me back.”
Her heart cracked in two. Sliding closer, she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss, then murmured, “Of course he loves you back.” She couldn’t help an impish grin. “He just needs a little time before he mans up and tells you.”
“Touché.”
They both laughed, but their good humor faded when Claire’s iPhone buzzed. She’d left it on the end table, and now she lunged for it, relief crashing into her when she saw Aidan’s number. She picked up immediately.
“Thank God!” she said instead of a greeting. “I’ve been so worried about you! Why haven’t you answered any of my messages?”
After a long pause, Aidan’s ravaged voice filled her ear. “Claire…I need you.”
Icy fear clogged her throat. “What’s wrong?”
Beside her, Dylan sat up in concern.
“I need you,” Aidan mumbled. “Can you come to Chicago?”
A terrible thought struck her. “Is your dad…did he…?”
“My father is fine.” His tone was flat, lacking all emotion. “Will you come?”
She glanced over at Dylan with a worried look, then tightened her grip on the phone and said, “I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took Claire ten hours before she was finally standing in front of Aidan’s hotel room door. By that point, she was so tired and impatient and worried that she rapped her knuckles on the door in an unceasing series of knocks that didn’t stop until the door swung open and her hand met nothing but air.
“Hey.” Aidan appeared in the doorway wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie he’d donned three nights ago when he’d left San Diego.
“Hey,” she said softly.
She stepped inside and looked around, noted the room’s plain furnishings and drawn curtains, then walked into Aidan’s waiting embrace.
His arms held on so tight her lungs were burning by the time he released her. Wary, she watched as he headed for the queen-sized bed and flopped down as if his legs could no longer support his weight.
Sighing, Claire sat beside him and reached for his hand. “What happened? Is your dad all right?”
His skin was cold to the touch, his voice even colder. “He made it out of surgery and is resting comfortably.”
“That’s good to hear.” She hesitated. “You said he has an apartment downtown. Why are you staying in a hotel?”
“Because if I see a single goddamn item that belongs to him, I’ll be tempted to march back to the hospital and beat him senseless.”
Claire’s jaw fell open.
“The only reason I’m still in this city,” Aidan went on, “is because his girlfriend begged me to stay until the doctors tell us he’s completely out of the woods. Once I know he’s not going to die, I’m outta here.”