Chapter 3 Feel, then Flee

"Are you scared of me?" Aiden asks suddenly, eyes fixed on the road. His tone is casual, but I hear the edge in it.

I take a moment, then shake my head. "Why do you think that?"

He glances at me. "You agreed to let me drive you, then started scrambling for excuses."

"I panicked," I admit, exhaling.

"Panicked?" he echoes, clearly wanting more.

"You're one of Hollywood's biggest stars, and suddenly you're showing interest in me... because I had a lighter?" I shake my head.

"When you left, it hit me-I was spiraling. I thought I'd come off cheap, so I lied. It felt like the only way to keep a shred of dignity."

He lets out a soft laugh.

"You didn't come off cheap. Yeah, I needed a lighter-but that's not why I'm driving you home."

"Then why?" I ask, heartbeat rising.

"Because you're different. And that," he says, voice dropping, "is a massive turn-on."

I wrinkle my nose. "So it is a sexual thing."

"Not entirely." He smirks. "But I know you feel it too-when we touch."

His fingers trail slow circles on my thigh, and I shudder, clamping my legs together as his hand squeezes gently, then pulls away.

"Don't," I gasp.

"Don't what?" he asks, teasing, even though his fingers are now tracing the hem of my shirt, sending fire across my skin.

"You can't deny this." His breath is warm against my ear. "Whatever's between us-it's real."

I don't answer. I can't.

"How old are you?" he asks, shifting topics just as suddenly, withdrawing his hand.

"That's random," I say, still catching my breath.

"You probably know mine. Fair is fair."

"And why would I know how old you are?" I scoff.

He shrugs. "You knew who I was."

"That doesn't mean I memorized your Wikipedia page."

He chuckles. "You could've googled me."

"Have you googled yourself?"

He looks almost offended. "Never. Feels too conceited."

I grin. "So is assuming I did."

He mutters something under his breath.

"You still haven't told me your age," he says after a pause.

I bite my lip.

"Don't do that," he says, his voice low and rough. He reaches over, runs his thumb along my lower lip, pulling it free.

"You have no idea what that does to me."

"Twenty-three," I murmur.

He raises a brow. "Twenty-five," he replies, still staring like he's committing every inch of me to memory.

"So... I'm guessing you own Sizzle and Steam?" he asks.

"Fifty percent," I say. "Cam-my best friend-owns the other half."

"And the pastries? You order them?"

"No. They're from Lily's, my bakery. It was my grandma's. I inherited it, but it was going under. Sizzle and Steam started just to keep Lily's afloat."

He nods, quietly impressed.

"And you? Acting's now your side gig after music?"

I ask even though I'm aware that it's not.

"Nope. I model sometimes. I invest, too. A few franchise stakes here and there."

A soft silence settles between us. Not awkward.

Just... loaded.

We both keep stealing glances. Eventually, he laughs. I go red.

When I bite my lip again, he growls, "Didn't I tell you not to do that?"

I release it immediately. "Sorry."

"We're here," I say, spotting my café.

"You live in your café?"

"In the loft above it."

"Cute."

I unbuckle, grab my bag, but just as I open the door, he pulls me back. "Hadley."

The way he says my name-it makes my knees weak.

He tilts my chin. One hand slides beneath my shirt again, trailing a hot line down my spine.

"Hadley," he says again, voice husky. His touch moves from my face to my hair, and his mouth hovers.

And then he kisses me.

His lips are warm, soft, and sure. I moan. When he bites my lip, I open for him without thinking.

Growling, he pulls me onto his lap, his mouth trailing from mine down to my neck. I'm gasping, his hands exploring every curve like he's memorizing them. His fingers knead my breasts, teasing my nipples until I arch into him.

I want to melt. To burn. To forget.

"Don't think, Hadley. Just feel," he whispers against my skin-and I do.

Until I feel my bra unhook.

And then I think.

"Aiden," I whisper, pulling back. "I've got to go."

He cups my face. "Hadley..."

I shake my head, gently removing his hands. "Thanks for the ride."

And then I'm out. Out of the car, into the building, locking the door behind me.

He calls after me.

I don't stop.

Not until his headlights vanish.

And only then-only then-do I finally let myself breathe.

What have I just done?