He gripped her hips, fighting with himself.

He wanted to pull her in and kiss the hell out of her. Then roll her to her back, strip this tiny scrap of silk off of her, and plunge into the hot, sweet body he’d been trying not to think about when he jerked off at night. He’d even succeeded. Seventy-five percent of the time.

Okay, fifty percent.

But he couldn’t quite get past the what the hell is going on?

Had she had a bunch of beer? He hadn’t noticed her drinking during the card game earlier. Maybe she’d taken a couple of shots at some point when he hadn’t been looking? Though he felt like he’d been looking at her all night since the pie thing in the kitchen. The pie thing. Where they’d talked about how much he liked her pie. And about how he loved eating her pie. And how her pie needed to be eaten with gusto…

Fuck. He was definitely in trouble here.

What was going on? Was someone daring her? Was she just messing with him?

One of the things about having grown up with her as a like-an-older-brother was that it was not impossible to believe this was some kind of elaborate, torturous prank.

“Zo—"

She leaned forward, taking his face between her hands. The move shifted her forward on his lap and pressed her pelvic bone and clit against his cock. She sucked in a breath as he groaned.

But she started talking before he could say anything.

“I need your help, Aiden. I’m a virgin. A twenty-five-year-old virgin. And I want you to be my first. I can’t do this the first time with anyone else.”

She was a virgin.

His brain short-circuited at those words.

Jesus. He knew she didn’t date a lot and never seriously, but he’d had no idea she was a virgin.

And she wanted him to be her first.

Fuck yes. That was his first reaction.

But right on the heels of those two words, he realized that yes, he was going to be her first.

But not tonight.

He nearly groaned out loud.

It was a surprisingly abrupt thought, but he realized in that moment that he’d known he and Zoe were headed in this direction for a long time. Maybe forever. Maybe they’d been destined for this.

But Zoe McCaffery was a not a one-night-stand girl. Not for anyone really, but especially not for him.

Everything in him knew that when they did this—not if, but when—it was going to change everything. Forever.

“Zo—” he started again.

But she leaned in and kissed him.

And he was half-naked, in bed, attracted to her, and not stupid.

So he kissed her back.

He cupped the back of her head, opened his mouth, and kissed her. He tasted her with his tongue, desire ripping through his body at the touch of her tongue in return, making his cock pulse against the hot silk she had pressed against him.

She made a whimpering noise that elicited a groan that he almost didn’t recognize as his own.

Then she pressed her whole body against his, her hard nipples against his chest, making him growl.

It took everything in him not to flip her over and take her, make her his, end this torture.

Instead, he pushed her back.

She blinked down at him, looking dazed.

Her hair was mussed where he’d had his hands. Her chest was rising and falling with her ragged breathing.

He just stared at her for a long moment.

God, she was gorgeous.

She could be his. Right now. Tonight. From now on.

But that was the only thing that was getting through his lust-filled brain… it wouldn’t be from now on. He couldn’t stay. Not right now.

He was going back to Chicago the day after tomorrow. His work, his apartment, his life was there. It wasn’t home. He’d never been able to think of Chicago as home. Appleby was home. It always would be. But he had to go back to Chicago. At least temporarily.

There was no way he was going to be able to leave if he slept with Zoe tonight. If they crossed this barrier there would be no going back.

So he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not yet.

This was Zoe. This would involve all the McCafferys, the people who were his family in every sense but blood. He had to do this right.

He was going to have to marry her.

“Aiden, please…” She started to lean in again.

He was doing the right thing. He knew that. But he was only so strong. She couldn’t kiss him again. And she sure couldn’t do more than that. Not if he had any hope of being a good guy here.

“No,” he finally managed.

She stared at him.

She looked like everything he wanted.

So he put his hands on her waist, picked her up, and set her on the floor next to the bed.

For just a moment, he thought she was going to reach for him again. He sat back quickly so she couldn’t.

He was certain she was going to argue. Possibly cuss. Probably tell him that this was way worse than the time she’d asked if he liked her new haircut and he’d been honest. It had been a terrible haircut.

Instead, she pressed her lips together, spun on her heel, and left his room.

She even closed the door quietly behind her.

Aiden slumped back against his pillows.

Shit. That wasn’t good. Zoe McCaffery was definitely a door slammer.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.

Did he go after her?

His cock pulsed at that idea. Of course it liked that idea. Thankfully, with her and that damned teddy and all that bare, creamy skin, and those fuck-me-please eyes out of his room he was able to think more clearly.

That had been the right call.

He couldn’t sleep with Zoe and leave.

But now there was no way he could stay away from her.

Looked like it was time to come home.

4

Zoe slammed the oven door shut, tossed her spoon into the metal mixing bowl in the sink, and whacked the metal muffin tins against the stove top. Then pivoted to turn her stand mixer on high.

“Holy hell, Zoe. It’s pretty damned early for all this noise.”

She stiffened at the sound of Aiden’s voice from the kitchen doorway, but she didn’t turn. She did, however, take a moment to bang her metal spoon against the side of her metal mixing bowl. To knock the batter off, of course.

“Not trying to be quiet even though it’s five a.m. Got it,” he said.

It was her damned house and her damned kitchen and if her damned house guests couldn’t sleep through her making some damned muffins, that was just too damned bad.

She took her time adding the eggs and then the dry ingredients to the mixing bowl.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him prop his shoulder against the fridge and settle in. Apparently not planning to attempt talking over the noise of the mixer.

Finally, when the batter was done, she shut the mixer off and removed the bowl, folding in the blueberries.

“So you’re mad at me,” Aiden commented.

He was dressed. In jeans and a Henley. He’d maybe even showered. She hadn’t heard the water running from upstairs, but she’d been rage baking since four thirty with her earbuds in.

Yes, rage baking.

Baking always made her feel better so the morning after the biggest humiliation, and disappointment, in recent history—or even not-that-recent history, honestly—she was baking. Especially considering she hadn’t been able to sleep anyway. What else was a baker going to do but bake? It was that or go back into Aiden’s room and demand to know what the hell was wrong with him. Or smother him with one of his pillows.