Chapter 3: The Chase
The loft felt too large the next morning, the silence accusatory. Aiden paced the length of the concrete floor, the ghost of her weight still a warmth in his lap, the scent of her perfume a faint trace on his couch. He’d spent the night in the chair, watching her sleep, a sentinel for a woman who’d clearly never had one.
Indecision was a foreign country to him. He commanded. He orchestrated. He took charge. But with her… with Tamera, every instinct was a war. The part of him that saw the raw, flayed need wanted to charge in, to assemble the broken pieces of her with his own two hands. But the part that remembered the violent shaking, the terror in her eyes as she stood in his elevator, screamed for caution. One wrong step and she’d bolt, forever.
But she’d texted ‘help’. She’d come to him. She’d slept in his arms, completely surrendered. Her needs were all that mattered. The terror was just noise. He stopped pacing, his decision solidifying into a cold, hard certainty. She didn’t need more choices. She was drowning in them.
He found her number, the one that had delivered that single, heartbreaking word. He pressed call before he could dissect it further.
It rang three times, each tone a hammer blow in the quiet of his loft. He could picture her, phone in hand, probably at her desk, that polite, guarded mask already back in place.
“Hello?” Her voice was polished, professional, but he heard the faint strain underneath, the catch of breath.
“It’s Aiden.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Meet me for lunch. The bistro on the corner of Elm and Fifth. One o’clock.” He didn’t ask. The words were a statement, a directive.
There was a pause on the other end. He could hear the muffled sounds of an office, a keyboard clicking. “Lunch? I… I have a very tight schedule today, I’m not sure—”
“One o’clock,” he repeated, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. “You need to eat. I’ll see you there.” He ended the call, cutting off any possibility of refusal.
She didn’t need any more decisions right now.
She didn’t need any more decisions right now.
The thought was a lifeline as she pushed through the revolving doors of her office building, the bright, chaotic noise of the street a stark contrast to the hollow silence inside her. She’d been functioning on autopilot all morning, her body in meetings while her mind replayed the feel of his hand in her hair. When one o’clock came, her body moved on its own, a puppet drawn by an unseen string.
She crossed the plaza, her heels clicking on the sun-warmed stone. The bistro’s green awning was in sight. A light, sharp honk halted her mid-stride. Aiden pulled up in a large, black SUV, its engine a low idle. The passenger window slid down. “Get in.”
Her compliance was automatic. She fumbled with the door handle and pulled herself up into the plush interior. The door shut with a solid thud, sealing her in quiet. He didn’t speak as he drove, turning a few streets over into a service alley behind a sleek office building. She didn’t know it was his.
He exited, came around, and opened her door. Helping her out, he didn’t guide her toward the building’s back entrance. Instead, he opened the rear passenger door. “In here.”
He helped her into the back seat. The door slammed, the interior dim due to the blacked-out windows. Tamera could smell the food in the takeout bags on the floor. Her stomach gave an embarrassing, loud rumble just as Aiden slid in beside her, his large frame making the spacious cabin feel intimately small.
“Did you eat breakfast, little one?” His voice was low, filling the quiet space.
Too embarrassed to admit she’d been too anxious to eat, she lowered her gaze in the silence. The sounds of the city were muffled, distant.
“It’s ok,” he soothed. “Daddy’s going to feed his baby.”
The word Daddy had her clenching her thighs together, need vicious and evident. Aiden pulled out a container of soup, the rich aroma of roasted chicken and herbs blooming between them. He mixed it slowly, then brought a spoonful to her mouth.
Tamera turned her face away. She didn’t like the look of soup. She was embarrassed he was feeding her.
“Uh uh. Come on, baby, just try it.” He held the spoon steady. “Be a good girl for Daddy.”
Moisture flooded her panties. She opened her mouth. The flavors exploded—savory, warm, perfect. She couldn’t hide her soft moan.
“It’s good,” she whispered, the admission a surrender.
“Very good,” he agreed, his eyes holding hers as he prepared another spoonful.
He continued to feed her in silence. She seemed calmer when she didn’t have to talk. As the level of the soup continued to decrease, Tamera leaned away from the next spoonful, a faint line appearing between her brows. “What about you? You need to eat.”
Warmth flooded Aiden’s system at the thought of her caring about him. “Right now I’m taking care of you,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that dismissed the notion entirely. He then returned to feeding her, unwavering, until the container was empty.
With a warm tummy and heavy eyelids, Tamera lounged back against the door, watching Aiden eat a sandwich. He offered her a bite of the sweet honey turkey and Swiss, but she was too full, giving a small shake of her head. As he ate, he had to return a few quick messages on his phone, the soft clicks of the screen the only sound, but he could feel her eyes on him, a quiet, studying weight.
He offered her some water through a straw before drinking from the same bottle himself. Having something in his mouth that had been in hers was the most erotic feeling, a simple intimacy that felt more profound than any kiss. Setting everything aside, he wiped his hands on a napkin. “Come.”
Tamera had been waiting for permission. She quickly scrambled into his lap, desperate for the cuddles, her movements uncoordinated with need. Her head buried in his neck, breathing deeply, her lips giving a soft, unintentional brush against his skin. Her panties were soaked, such small care turning her on so much, the sheer force of this simple, held closeness overwhelming her.
Her panties were soaked, such small care turning her on so much, the sheer force of this simple, held closeness overwhelming her. Aiden’s hands alternated between running up and down her back and squeezing her close. “This is where you belong, baby girl,” he encouraged as he stroked her.
Tamera whimpered with need, pressing closer. He could feel her heat from her spread thighs, swore he could smell a sweetness he hoped came from her core. He never smelled anything so intoxicating.
His body responded, out of his control, growing, hardening. Tamera, feeling the change, couldn't help dragging her core over his length, gasping in frustration. His arms tugged around her and she froze.
What was she doing? She tried to pull back but Aiden held her firm. “Shhh, it’s ok, baby,” he assured her, pulling her against him again. A moan caught in her throat.
What was she doing? She tried again to move away only to be held tight. “Baby,” Aiden crooned. “It’s ok. Don't run from Daddy.” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t do this.
Aiden used her hair to pull her head back. “Shhh, don’t cry, no, no,” he comforted. “It’s ok. Take what you need. No one has to know. I promise. It’s ok.” Aiden encouraged, his nose running over hers. His cheeks brushing her cheeks.
So close but he didn’t kiss her. He wouldn’t push her any farther. If she tried to pull away again he would let her. She hadn’t talked. Seemed like she couldn’t.
Just as he was preparing to set her to the side he felt it. He felt her move over him. A slow, tentative roll of her hips that was pure, unthinking instinct. Her tear-filled eyes widened, a soft, broken sound escaping her as the friction sent a jolt through her. It was an answer, a surrender more potent than any word.
“That’s it,” he breathed, his voice thick with a restraint that cost him. His hands settled on her hips, not forcing, just guiding the languid, building rhythm she’d begun. “Just like that. Take what you need from me. I’ve got you.”
She buried her face in his neck again, her quiet gasps hot against his skin. The world outside the tinted windows, the conference calls and pediatrician appointments, it all dissolved into the humid, shared air between them. Her movements became less hesitant, more urgent, a desperate seeking of relief for a ache that had been building for years.
Aiden held on, his jaw tight, letting her use his body for her pleasure, his own need a secondary, manageable fire. This was her release. Her claiming. When her body suddenly stiffened and a choked cry was muffled against his collar, he simply held her tighter, absorbing the waves of her climax until she went boneless in his arms, spent and trembling.
He held her through the aftershocks, his palm a steady pressure on the back of her head, his other hand stroking the length of her spine. Her breathing was a ragged, hot pull against his neck, each exhale a quiet shudder. He could feel the frantic beat of her heart slowing, a wild bird settling against the cage of his chest.
A profound quiet settled over the car, broken only by the distant hum of a delivery truck idling somewhere in the alley. Tamera didn’t move. She seemed to have dissolved into the contact, her limbs heavy, her mind presumably blank. He pressed his lips to her temple, a gesture of pure possession, and felt her sigh.
“There you are,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. It wasn’t about the sex. It was about the surrender, the trust it required for her to break apart like that in a stranger’s arms. He’d caught every piece.
Slowly, she stirred. She pulled her head back just enough to look at him, her eyes glassy, her mascara smudged in a way that made her look beautifully ruined. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She just stared, as if seeing him for the first time, or perhaps seeing herself reflected in his gaze.
“You with me, baby girl?” he asked, his thumb brushing the damp skin under her eye.
She nodded, a quick, jerky motion. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she swallowed. The air, which had softened, abruptly crackled back to life. The heat of her, even through their clothes, was a brand. GOD SHE FELT SO GOOD. WARM IN HIS ARMS. HER CORE BURNING HOT, THE HEAT UNABLE TO BE MASKED BY HER THIN WORK PANTS AND WHATEVER SHE HAD ON UNDERNEATH.
NO, HE SHOULDN’T BE THINKING OUT WHAT WAS UNDERNEATH. THIS WAS FOR HER NOT HIM.
Yet his own body was a traitor, hard and aching, a relentless pulse of want that echoed the wet heat he could feel seeping through her trousers. YET HE COULDN’T HELP THE STRONG HOLD OF HIS ARM ACROSS HER LOWER BACK PULLING HER DOWN ON HIS BULGING COCK AS HE PUSHED UPWARD. JUST ONCE. HE JUST NEEDED TO DO IT ONCE.
A sharp, broken gasp tore from her throat. Her eyes flew wide, not with fear, but with a shock of pure, undiluted sensation. HIS WEAKNESS FOR HER WAS SHOWING BUT SHE DIDN’T NEED THAT.
BUT THEN SHE CRIED OUT, LOUDER, HER SECOND CLIMAX CLUTCHING AT HIS SHOULDERS, her body seizing around nothing, a raw, overwhelmed sound that was half-sob, half-scream of release. “I’M SORRY BABY. IT’S OK. SHHH I’M SORRY.” HE TRIED TO SOOTHE THEM BOTH, rocking her slightly as she shook through it, his own control fraying at the edges.
SHE RAISED HER HEAD FROM HIS NECK, EYES LOCKED WITH HIS, MOUTHS INCHES APART. THEIR BREATHS MINGLED, sharp and fast. SHE NEEDED THIS. NEEDED HIM TO TAKE CHARGE. A SMALL WHIMPER LEFT HER LIPS, AN EVEN SMALLER MOVEMENT OF HER HIPS, a silent, undeniable plea.
NEED CLOUDED AIDEN’S EYES. “YOU NEED DADDY’S HELP, BABY GIRL?” HE CROONED, the words rough-edged.
LOWERED EYES AND A SLIGHT NOD WAS ALL HE NEEDED.
HE QUICKLY REVERSED THEIR POSITIONS, LYING HER ACROSS THE BENCH SEAT BENEATH HIM. The leather was cool against her flushed back. “I GOT YOU,” HE SAID REASSURINGLY AS HE BEGAN TO THRUST AGAINST HER, the thick denim of his jeans a torturous friction against her sensitive core.
HER MOANS FILLED THE CAR, unfiltered now, a continuous stream of sound. HER NAILS SCRATCHED ACROSS HIS SHIRT-COVERED BACK, her hips lifting to meet his every thrust, meeting a demand that had been waiting a lifetime. “FUCK,” SLIPPED FROM HIS LIPS, gritted out between clenched teeth.
SHE’S PERFECT, HE THOUGHT AS HE INCREASED HIS PACE, the world narrowing to the slick, hot drag of fabric, the smell of her arousal and his own sweat, the breathtaking sight of her unraveling completely beneath him. He watched her face, every flinch of pleasure, every surrendered cry, committing it to memory.
This was taking. This was giving. It was the same thing.
Her third climax hit her like a seizure, a silent, open-mouthed gasp before the sound ripped free, her back arching off the seat. He followed her over, grinding down hard, his own release a dark, shuddering wave that left him buried against her, his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their struggling lungs. The car felt like a universe, humid and charged. He shifted his weight, but didn’t move away, keeping her pinned beneath the comforting solidity of his body. She was crying again, but softly now, tears leaking from the corners of her closed eyes.
He kissed one away, then the other. “Shhh,” he breathed. “I’ve got you. I’ll always catch you.”
Her hand came up, her fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck. She held on, not pushing him away, but anchoring him there. It was the first thing she’d actively taken from him.
Outside, a car alarm whooped twice and fell silent. Reality, with all its complications, its school runs and neglected husbands, waited just beyond the tinted glass. It was inches away. But here, in this suspended moment, she was his. And he knew, with a certainty that was terrifying, that he was already hers.