“The flood,” she blurted out.
Seth blinked. “What?”
“My apartment is a mess, you know, from the flood. I’m working two jobs, and we’ve got the summer recital coming up at the end of July, so I need to start thinking about solos and song selection and costumes. My life is a big ball of stress right now,” she confessed, though the reminder was more for her sake than his.
“All the more reason to welcome some no-strings, stress-busting sex into your life,” he pointed out with a grin.
“No strings,” she echoed.
“Not a single one.”
She swallowed. “And it’s on my terms?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I…don’t know.”
She didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to change her answer—or her mind. She wasn’t the kind of woman who jumped into a situation without giving it slow and careful consideration. Once upon a time she would have thrown caution to the wind and dived headfirst into an affair with this man. These days, she didn’t have the luxury of spontaneity. She had her kids, her job, her livelihood to consider.
“I need to think about it,” she said quietly. “I won’t agree to anything until I’ve had a chance to think.”
After a beat, Seth released a ragged breath. “Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “Good night, Seth.”
With that, she left him in the kitchen and hurried down the hall, heart pounding, sex throbbing, hormones yelling at her for having the audacity to demand time to think.
Sighing, Miranda entered the guest room and resigned herself to the fact that, like Seth, she probably wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
“Yeah, so this is probably a major faux pas, but…dude, how much does naval intelligence pay you?” Dylan called in the direction of the hallway Aidan had disappeared into a few moments ago.
As he waited for the other man to return, he gawked at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and wondered if O’Connor and the others were aware that Aidan was living it up in the land of luxury over here.
Located in downtown’s Marina District, Aidan’s east-facing condo offered an unparalleled view of the San Diego skyline—that alone was confirmation of how pricey the place must be. The living room was furnished with two black leather couches, a rectangular glass coffee table, and an entertainment system that made Dylan drool. Even in his drunken state, he was able to fully appreciate Aidan’s digs and knew the rent must cost the guy a fortune.
“This is actually my dad’s place,” Aidan explained as he strode into the room wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants. “His architecture firm opened an East Coast branch last year and he decided to move out there, but he didn’t want to sell this place, so I’m subletting it.” Aidan grinned. “At a discount.”
Dylan shook his head in awe, admiring the electric fireplace and the French doors leading to the outdoor terrace. “Lucky you.”
“For real,” Aidan agreed with a chuckle. “Hey, did you still want that Advil?”
“That’d be great.”
“There should be some in the kitchen. I’ll grab you some water too.”
Aidan brushed past him and headed for the kitchen, which was separated from the living area by a low wall with a “window” that allowed Dylan to watch the dark-haired man move around. His gaze lingered on Aidan’s chest—broad, sculpted with muscle and dusted with dark hair. Dude was in great f**king shape.
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen Aidan shirtless before. He must have—swimming at Matt and Cash’s place, on the beach…yeah, he had to have seen Aidan’s bare chest before.
So why did his mouth suddenly go dry at the sight of the guy’s washboard abs?
Dylan tore his eyes away. Clearly he’d had way too much to drink tonight.
“You sure you don’t want the stronger kind? I’ve got extra strength and the kind for migraines too,” Aidan said as he reappeared in the room.
“Naah, I’m good. The pills and a few glasses of water will do the trick. It’s what I always do to avoid a hangover after a night of boozing.”
When Aidan slapped a pair of ibuprofens in his hand, the guy’s fingers lightly brushed over his palm.
His groin tightened, c**k jerking against the fly of his cargo pants.
Oh f**k. Not now. And not this man.
He gulped down the pills and chugged the water, all the while feeling the other man’s dark eyes studying him.
“What?” Dylan said in aggravation.
“You need to f**k, don’t you?”
He nearly dropped the drinking glass. “What?”
Aidan grinned, and a pair of dimples appeared. “I cock-blocked you tonight, man. Dragged you out of that alcove before you could finish up with the cute blonde from the dance floor, and I can only imagine how bad your balls are aching right now.”
Dylan relaxed. Right, the blonde. At the memory of Rachel—well, Rachel’s magical mouth—his dick jerked again. Well, at least the little soldier wasn’t discriminatory. Blondes, brunettes, girls, guys…didn’t take much to keep him happy. Some might even call him fickle.
“You win some, you lose some,” he answered with a shrug. But Aidan was right. He was definitely in f**king mode. Muscles tight, body primed for sex.