On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

Sara," he said.
    His husky voice drew a tingle down her spine. The caution in his tone was mixed with something else – desire?
    She walked into the room, stopping at the end of the couch.
    He was stretched out, a light blanket covering him, his head on a pillow, his feet dangling over the edge.
    "What do you want?" he asked.
    How did she answer that question? A dozen suggestions fled through her brain, but only one stuck. She couldn't give him that answer. It was too bold. Then again, where had being shy ever got her?
    "I think you should take the bed," she said. "You can't be comfortable here."
    "If I take the bed, you're sharing it with me."
    She swallowed hard at his purposeful words. In the dark shadows, she couldn't see his face clearly, but by his tone, she sensed that she was standing on the edge of a precipice.
    "Are you sure about that?" she asked. "You're better at starting things than finishing. Every time we've kissed, you've been the one to pull away."
    "To protect you."
    "Really?" she challenged. "Or were you protecting yourself?"
    "You were too young for me, Sara. You didn't know the score."
    "That was true back then. I thought I'd gotten over you. But then I came home, and suddenly I was right back where I was before—wanting you." She drew in a much-needed breath. "I'm taking a big chance right now. You could reject me again."
    "Then why risk it?" he asked.
    "Because I want you." There, she'd finally said it. "It's as simple as that, and you like things simple, so what's the problem?"
    He sat up. "You're not at all simple, Sara. You're complicated, beautiful, smart, and way out of my league. I knew that when I was nineteen, and I know it now."
    "That was the past. This is now. You know me, and I know you. You're probably right that we are wrong for each other. Our lives are in different states. We have different priorities, but tonight we're here together, and I don’t want to think about tomorrow. I just want to be with you. No strings. No commitment."
    "You say that now, but you'll change your mind—"
    "Sh-sh," she said, sitting next to him on the side of the couch. "Stop putting walls between us. I know you want me. And that's not a teenage girl with a crush talking. That's a woman who knows when a man wants her. And you want me," she repeated.
    His gaze met hers. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, a desperate note in his voice, as if he was getting tired of the fight. "I hurt you before. I didn’t handle things well. I don't want to make the same mistake."
    "Aiden."
    "What?"
    "Would you just kiss me already?"
    A charged, tense minute followed her words,
    Then Aiden slid his hand around the back of her neck. He pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, tender kiss, almost as if he were afraid he might break her. She didn't want gentleness from him. She didn't want to be the sweet, good girl. She wanted to be bad—with him.
    She opened her mouth, inviting him in, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands roamed up and down her back. Urgency and need stripped away the barriers between them. His mouth devoured hers, his kiss touching off the storm that had been brewing for years. It was as if the dam had broken for both of them.
    Aiden pulled her t-shirt up over her head. She shook out her hair as his hands cupped her breasts, as his mouth dipped, and his tongue slid along her collarbone and then the edge of her bra, the light touch teasing her nipples into fine points. She put her arms around him, pulling him closer, sliding her hands up under his shirt, tracing the lines of his rippled muscles with the tips of her fingers.
    He groaned and stopped kissing her long enough to shed his shirt. Then his hands moved to her bra. He unhooked the clasp and pulled it off of her shoulders. His mouth sought her nipples, and she gasped at the streak of pleasure that ran through her body.
    She ran her hands through the wiry strands of his hair as he kissed her breasts. His fingers slid down her stomach, one hand dipping into the waistband of her loose-fitting pajamas, his fingers seeking the heat that was threatening to consume her.
    "Aiden," she whispered as he pushed her back against the pillows of the couch.
    "Sara," he muttered. "Beautiful Sara." Then his mouth was on hers again.
    She moved her legs restlessly wanting so many things, and on top of her list was her naked body next to his. She reached down to peel off her pajamas bottoms, grateful when Aiden kicked off his own pants.
    He stood up, not at