Rebirth Ch. 02

"Physical strength does not exempt anyone from feeling weak." She could not imagine him anything less than intimidating but there was a truth in his voice that made her look at him more closely. "Come back inside. Please, it's way too cold for you," he added when she continued to look over him.

She was cold, her hair damp against her neck but she felt rebellious, something she had not experienced since opposing her parents. The defiant streak combined with her anger and she snared, "Taking care of me again, Aiden?

Surprise briefly scored his features before a shutter closed off his emotions. She turned away and looked into the surrounding forest, tears pushing to be let free again but she defeated the urge.

A gust blew through, swaying the trees to the left before they snapped back to the center to do a merry dance. It became still once more but for the willowy pirouette of the falling snow and her anger drained into nothing but a shameful chill as she acknowledged that her anger was directed at herself.

Suddenly her retreat felt very cowardly, like she gave up a life so many fought to have, all because she was afraid to face the past. The rush of emotion Aiden's presence brought made her realize just how dead she'd been inside, burying unresolved feelings, just as she'd done her entirely life.

Merely existing was far from living. Being alone in these mountains for so long had shown her the difference. For the first time in five years, she felt like more than just a shadow of her former self, more than just an empty existence. She felt connected to another being. A spark of life heated her cells and she felt rejuvenated.

"I'm sorry. I should not have taken my anger out on you," she said, throwing a glance his way. "I'm not normally like this. At least not before..." she trailed off.

He acknowledged her apology with a nod. "We all have our moments."

A companionable silence fell as they both looked into the wintery scene again. Shifting slightly she watched him from the corner of her eyes. He looked into the trees as well but instinct told her he was as aware of her as she was of him.

With an enthusiasm she thought lost to her, she wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to know what made him different from everyone else. Well, apart from the obvious. There was a singularity that surrounded him like an invisible wall, making her wonder at his life. It seemed a very solitary way of being and that called to her. She understood loneliness, feeling like a tiny island in a vast ocean.

"You must be very lonely." Her words clearly startled him. She startled herself with her forwardness.

He caught her gaze, the intensity making her breath come a little faster. "Why would you say that?"

"I image you don't have many friends." What possessed her to say something like that? She scrambled to cover her careless words. "What I mean is, you probably don't tell many people about what you are. It must be hard living in the shadows." She cringed internally. That sounded worse. "Oh no, I-" She trailed off before she dug a bigger hole for herself.

He did not answer but continued to look at her with a steady gaze that gave nothing of his thoughts away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried." She dropped her gaze and pulled at a thread that was sticking out of her jeans.

"Not many people would look at my existence that way. Most people think it's a novelty, a privilege." She looked up at his statement and his gaze was keen as ever. "In the beginning I did very much enjoy being humanity's protector but things have changed. I've changed. Humanity's changed." He sighed wearily and admitted, "While I may not be very happy with the way things have turned out, I would not give it up. We don't all get to choose our destiny. We can only make the best of the path we're given."

"Yes," she agreed. His words made her withdrawal seem all the more craven. His isolation was not of his choosing. Unlike her own.

"But it's not all bad. I get to impress the ladies with all my pretty feathers," he said, breaking into her depressing thoughts. A smile stretched his lips and by all that made the world go 'round, it was devastating. It softened the hardness that was part of him and made him look more approachable, sexier. She answered with one of her own. Satisfaction, and something else, heated his gaze. "You have a beautiful smile, Mac."

Just that easily the light camaraderie transformed into something hotter. She licked her lips nervously and uttered a soft, "Thank you."

He followed the gesture with a predatory gleam. The arousal that flowed in a slow, deep ache suddenly flared out of control. His nostril flared and like a wild animal he sniffed the air. "You smell divine," he growled and with a blink he was a fraction of an inch away.

Before she could react, he pulled her forward and pressed his lips against hers. She froze as shock gripped her, but not for long as his tongue gently licked the seam of her lips and all thought of resisting dissolved. She sighed as heat speared through her, molten and all-consuming.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he licked at her quaking lips again. He did not rush, did not press for a deeper contact. Giving into the sensation she allowed lips to hesitantly close over his lower one. She did it again as her fingers tangled in his hair, the gloves preventing the contact she desired. He allowed her to explore, to familiarize herself with his taste, the firm texture of his upper lip contrasting with the surprising softness of the lower edge.

It was a chaste kiss. There was no tongue on tongue action just a simple touching of lips yet she squirmed as her clit burned for harder, more intimate contact. Remembering the incident in the kitchen, she pushed at his chest weakly and he let go instantly. Slowly her eyes opened to stared up into his glowing eyes. He took a step back, his breathing was as labored as hers, the air around him heated, and unbelievable steam did come off him.

She nearly giggled but sobered instantly. Men like him did not go for women like her. She swallowed. "I don't need your pity."

His grabbed her wrist and placed it over his over his swollen length. "I have been aching for you from the moment I laid eyes on you. You are beautiful, sexy as hell and it is all I can do not to strip your body bare and sink into you as deep as I can get."

He fairly growled at her, his features hardening, his eyes perusing her length in her fashion that made her feel nude. That he could feel the same way that she did, even a fraction of it, was astonishing. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

She cleared her throat, a nervous action she could not prevent.

"You have to stop that unless you're ready for the consequences."

Stop what? Oh...

Her fingers were squeezing and releasing him rhythmically.

"Oh God, sorry. I'm sorry." She felt color explode on her cheeks as she snatched her hand away, looking straight ahead only to be confronted with the perfection of his chest.

He chuckled and the sounded washed over her, deep and rough, like the man himself. "No need to apologize. Let's go in. You're too tempting out here."

"I'm just standing here."

"Exactly."

****

The hours since they kissed went by like a blur yet infinitely slow. They shared lunch at turns sharing light conversation or lapsing into companionable silence and once again shared the chore of cleaning up.

She learned he had a deadpan sense of humor and he even managed to catch her unawares again, tempting a smile out of her. How could he make her laugh when her body dripped with cream at every move he made, when she practically panted with anticipation at hearing his deep vibrating baritone? There was nothing normal about her reactions to him yet she was beginning to... like them. What was it about him that made her forget the past so completely that the reserves she built around herself crumbled so effortlessly? That she wanted them too?

Her fingers moved, the sound of pencil on paper interrupting the peaceful quiet. Her hair fell into her eyes and she pushed it back impatiently. They were now occupying the living area, him on the couch and she opposite him on the floor, back resting on the wall, pillow protecting her skin. Journal in hand she sketched the line of Aiden's body. She tried to concentrate on her task but found herself studying him in a way that had to do with desire just as much as art. He did not seemed surprised that she was an artist, and agreed to let her sketch him in exchange for a tour of her studio. She remembered the way he studied the pieces, giving each a thorough examination. He'd turned to her and said, "These are beautiful, Mac. You're very talented."

She'd released the breath she did not realize she was holding and smiled, not realizing just how important his approval was to her. A warm spot had bloomed in her heart. She'd uttered an embarrassed, "Thank you," and hustled him out of the studio after which he upheld his part of their bargain without protesting.

He was gazing into the fireplace, looking like a big cat lazing in the sun with deceptive stillness. Twilight colors once again lit the sky and brought home the fact that she only knew him for twenty-four hours yet whenever their eyes met it felt like forever.

Bold strokes carved the line of his jaw, pride and confidence clearly identifiable. Covered in flittering shadows produced by the fireplace, the focus of Mac's art jumped off the paper. Her hand hovered over the face of her subject, his eyes calling to her. Sadness resided there. So did a wildness that made her heart triple its pace and twist a strange warmth low in her belly. The dark sensuality of her creation drew her like a moth to a flame, the compulsion to do... something about the figurative blues in his eyes frightening with its intensity.

"Tell me more about you."

She looked up at his unexpected words, her fingers pausing, her mind pushed out of the emotion-laced creative haze. "What do you mean?" she asked, placing the drawing aside, grateful for the distraction.

"Is it done?" He gestured at her journal.

"Mostly."

"Can I see?

She passed him the bound book. Just as before, he examined the work carefully. He looked up slowly and caught her gaze before she could escape. "Is this how you see me?"

"I, uh, well yes."

He looked back at the drawing. "It's magnificent. Thank you, Mac."

"For?"

"For seeing something I thought I'd lost," he answered cryptically, his Adam's apple bobbing but his expression was clear when he looked up once more, passing her the sketch. She looked down at it, trying to decipher what affected him so deeply but no hint was forthcoming.

Placing the book on the rocking chair, she intended to question him but before she could, he repeated, "Tell me more about Mac, artiste extraordinaire. I want to know you better."

She stared at him, wanting to probe at the trace of vulnerability she saw in his expression but let it go, allowing him his secrets just as he allowed her hers. "Why?" she asked. "I assure you, I'm not very interesting. Besides I've already told you everything there's to know."

"That can't be all. Humor me."

"Born to middle aged parents. Only child. Always wanted to be an artist. That's about it."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay, since you're going to make this difficult, what's your favorite color?" He leaned forward, his attention completely focused and Mac could not help but wonder if he brought that same concentration into the bedroom.

Hopefully controlling the blush she felt blooming, she answered, "It depends."

"Really? On what?"

"The day, my mood. Most days it's red though."

"Bold color. Very telling." His gaze swept over her in a speculative manner that did not help the direction of her thoughts.

"What's yours?" she asked avoiding where that statement was headed.

He scratched his chin. "Well, I never thought I had one until today. It's brown."

"Brown?" she quizzed doubtfully. That was hardly the typically answer to that question.

He looked into her eyes and she drowned in the heat she saw reflected in his. "Definitely brown," he answered mysteriously and she got the feeling that she missed something. He broke the spell. "Favorite food."

That was an easy one. "Anything with chocolate."

There was a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. "Typical."

She stuck her tongue out, surprising herself with the carefree action. "Don't be a jerk."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay. Mine's Twinkies."

"And you're judging me? Unbelievable!"

He shrugged, clearly not offended. This set the tone for the rest of their conversation. He became increasingly animated. As his inhibition fell away, she felt like she caught a glimpse of something special, something hidden from the rest of the world. Night removed the last rays of the sun and the soft light of candles and lamps danced on the walls. They got up to prepare a snack, their bodies brushing occasionally in a way that she was not entirely sure was accidental but she did not protest. It felt too good.

They were back in their former positions, wolfing down sandwiches. He confided his former career at her prompting. She read a few of his titles despite the genre not being her usually, a romance girl to the core. He was very good at what he did, his story-telling making the scenes appear so likely in a real life situation that she had nightmares after her first read, searching the shadows for hidden villains. This was post-Grayson days, of course.

"What type of car did you drive?" she asked, swallowing the last of her sandwich.

He gave her a look. "What?" she asked.

"I tell you I was a famous author and you want to know what kind of car I drove?" Incredulity rang in his tone.

"Well, what did you expect me to ask?"

"The size of my bank account, who I know, where I've been, ask for a favor." He shrugged when he finished, his thoughts suddenly closed off from her. He placed his sandwich back on his plate and reached for his milk.

The cynicism she'd suspected lying around reared its head and she wondered if he realized how much he just revealed about himself. She felt sorry that he felt used in that way. "Not everyone's like that, Aiden. Maybe you've been hanging around the wrong people."

He gave her statement some thought and finally said, "I guess I have been."

"So answer my question," she impelled, drinking the last of her cinnamon tea.

He named a model that made her eyes bulge. She did not know much about cars but even she knew what an expensive price tag that model carried. "What? It's a very sensible car," he supplied at her look.

"You call that a sensible car?" Her incredulity was clear.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Besides, what does my car have to with this?"

"You can tell a lot about a person by the car he drives." She supplied, placing her cup next to her empty plate.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"And what does mine say about me?"

She answered instantly. "You're competitive, a risk taker, you like to play hard, work hard and have expensive taste."

She raised an eyebrow in his direction, daring him contradict her. He conceded with a smiling nod. "What else?"

"You like women."

He laughed, as if he could not help himself, the shadows gone from his eyes. "Well, that's a given but how does my car say that?"

"Don't tell me you didn't pick out that car not knowing the female attention it would attract."

"Hmm, okay. I'll give you that. What else?"

"Well, most men with such expensive cars are compensating for... you know what." She could not believe she just said that especially since she knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. Her skin still tingled remembering the feel of him against her.

"Mac, are you saying I have a small dick?"

She spattered, "I did not say that."

"Not directly but that's basically what that meant."

"I repeat. That's hardly what I said but if the shoe fits..." Not knowing what possessed her mouth, Mac trailed off only to giggle. The sound popped free again as he mocked scowled at her.

"Maybe I'll have you judge for yourself." His voice dropped an octave and her giggle stuck in her throat, her sex fluttering. He did not move but his aura took on a predatory stance that made her feel surrounded.

Flustered, she hurried to add, "That's hardly necessary." Her body protested those words, more than happy at the chance to see him in all his naked splendor again.

"Of course it is," he rebuffed. "I can't let this disturbing news get around. I have a reputation to uphold."

The thought of him with another woman sent a surge of jealousy through her. She pushed it down. She had no claim on this man.

Not yet.

She was startled at her own rapacious thought. She was not an aggressive woman when it came to sex. Then again, she'd never felt this way. Trying for a casual attitude, she replied, "You have nothing to worry about. I won't breathe a word to anyone."

"Never the less, seeing is believing."

She laughed. A throw your head back chuckle.

"Oh, stop it," she hiccupped, her eyes meeting his once more. "You have no idea how corny you sound. Besides, you have nothing to prove to little ol' me."

"See, Mac, that's where you're wrong. Any man worth his salt would never want a woman as beautiful as you questioning the size of his equipment. Especially when that equipment is damn near poking a hole through these pants every time I look at you."

She watched the words roll off his tongue and her heart raced at the compliment, her blood heating as her overactive imagination took flight. It was an effort not to glance down in search of proof of his words. She laughed again to cover her embarrassment and asked, "How did the conversation take this turn?"

"You called me a shrimp dick."

She nearly swallowed her tongue, covering her mouth with her hand to keep the laughter in. "I did not."

"Oh, yes you did. You wound me deeply, Mac."

Shaking her head, she said, "I'm sure you'll get over it."

He was off the couch in a movement that was as graceful as it was speedy. On all fours he approached her in a way that could only be described as stalking. Like a jungle cat, muscles popped and bunched as his shoulders moved, light glittering off his golden skin. She was mesmerized until she saw the mischievous look in his eyes and with a squeak, she tried to scramble away. He caught her easily. Her shout of laughter bounced off the walls, his fingers finding her tickle spots with cunning accuracy. They tumbled around before she landed on top. Well, more like he let her. Giggling, she pushed her hair way from her face.

He pulled her into a loose hug, their legs tangled. Pressed against her, his body infused hers with a protective cocoon of heat. Her laughter faded away and her arms crept up his sides on their own accord to clutch at his hard biceps. She inhaled his fresh scent as his heart beat steadily and vibrated through her chest. His erection prodded her tummy and she swallowed, suddenly very conscious of their position.

She froze, expecting fear to engulf her. It never came and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of knowing a man desired her and not freaking out. It was a novel experience.

Time fell away as his finger touched her chin and urged her head up. Her eyes fluttered open. His gaze captured hers and the heat she spotted there had her straining to get closer. His hips rotated and hers followed the tantalizing movement.

"I need to kiss you, Mac. Please say yes."

His request came out as a growl, one the vibrated just the right cord in her. Large hands cruised her back before grabbing her behind and pressing her harder onto his straining cock. She whimpered. He was so big. Her nipples beaded and the material of her sweater abraded the achy knobs.