Fortitude Smashed Read online

  “Get on with it,” Aiden rasped. He sucked Shannon’s middle finger alongside the other.

  “Down, boy,” Shannon whispered. He pulled his fingers from Aiden’s lips and slithered his hand beneath the fabric of Aiden’s black briefs. “We’ve got all day.”

  Aiden smiled sheepishly. His eyes slipped shut. “We don’t, actually.” A soft whine built in his throat. “I have work at five.”

  “It’s not even noon.” Shannon smothered his laugh in Aiden's neck, satisfied with the uneven, breathy sounds he made, and the slow, building arch of his spine.

  One quick motion and Shannon was on his back, staring at the ceiling and at Aiden who hovered over him. A razor-sharp smile curved Aiden’s mouth. He kissed Shannon briefly, before he trailed his lips along the column of his throat, his collarbones. He teased at Shannon’s abdomen, sucked light marks next to his belly button, and hooked teeth around his hipbones.

  Shannon chewed on his bottom lip. His hands found Aiden’s shoulders, then traced his jaw and the tops of his arms. Aiden dug his nails into Shannon’s sides, with his open mouth just above the waistband of his boxers. He bit, sucking another blooming bruise on Shannon’s pelvis.

  Reluctantly, Shannon glanced down, rewarded with dark eyes, pupils blown wide, staring up at him. Aiden was an expert at anticipation. He enjoyed playing games, teasing, taunting, building, and making Shannon lift his hips off the floor, babbling incoherent pleas and curses. It was a shame Shannon loved it as much as he did, because it was terribly embarrassing.

  “Tell me,” Aiden whispered, tugging at Shannon’s boxers to expose more of his hip. He dragged his bottom lip along Shannon’s thigh.

  Shannon’s breath left him and returned in a shaky gasp.

  “C’mon,” Aiden said. He raked his nails down Shannon’s stomach. “Tell me what you want—”

  Aiden halted.

  Three knocks. One right after the other, evenly spaced, sounded distant and surreal. Shannon’s eyes flew open. Brakes screeched in his mind. Aiden huffed, annoyed.

  Shannon blinked at the ceiling. His heart hammered in his chest. No, he couldn’t have heard that right. Aiden sat up and glared at him.

  Again, the sound: three knocks, one right after the other, from the front door. Shannon lifted to his elbows while Aiden rolled his eyes and flopped on his back.

  “Well, go.” Aiden waved his arm at the door. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’d like to actually fuck you at some point.”

  Shannon nudged him with his foot and smirked. “It’s probably just someone selling something. And I resent that statement, by the way. You should want to whether or not it’s a holiday.”

  “Please. Like you don’t get laid every day,” Aiden snorted, crawling into a patch of light that came through the open windows.

  Shannon hunted for his sweats, found them, pulled them on, and ran his hand through his hair.

  Three more knocks.

  “Oh-fucking-kay!” Aiden shouted.

  Shannon kicked him playfully in the leg as he walked by, and noticed the frustrated, dark blush on his cheeks and chest.

  He unlocked the door, opened it, and said, “Hey, sorry about that, we didn’t…” The words curdled in his throat, sticking together like sap. Shannon’s whole body tensed. He swallowed, unsure whether he could take a breath or not. The blood in his face drained. “…hear you. What…are you, what…”

  Standing on his porch, wearing a beige pencil skirt and a pearl white blouse accented with blue lace, was Chelsea Cavanaugh. She clasped her hands in front of her waist and grinned; her bright seafoam eyes were wide. She bounced in a pair of navy heels and gave a painfully forced laugh.

  “Surprise! You told me to visit anytime, so here I am!”

  If there was anything Shannon wasn’t expecting, it was Chelsea Cavanaugh.

  “I was thinkin’ to myself a few days ago—I was thinkin’, Chelsea, you’ve got four months to go, and who says your Rose Road is in Georgia?” She hit the back of one hand against the palm of the other over and over, eyebrows trying to keep up with her speech. “Could be anywhere, right? Why not here?”

  And if there was anything Shannon was completely unprepared for, it was Chelsea Cavanaugh.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking joking!” That was Aiden, who cackled from inside. “Is that your hyena, Shannon?”

  Chelsea cocked her head, unaware that when Aiden said hyena, he meant ex-girlfriend. Unable to form words, Shannon pulled the door, shielding Chelsea from whatever she would see if she peeked inside. Her smile dropped, but picked up again, as if she’d caught herself being rude. God forbid Chelsea was intentionally rude, Shannon thought; she might explode if someone accused her of such a thing.

  “Is that Aiden I hear?” Chelsea’s voice cracked over his name.

  “It is her!” Aiden yelled from inside. He shuffled around, either getting dressed or getting the rest of the way undressed; one meant he was going to come speak to her, the other meant he was going to harass Shannon until he closed the door. Both scenarios had Shannon sweating.

  Aiden was putting his pants on and came to the door with them unbuttoned and barely clinging to his hips. He grabbed the door and wrenched it open. “Chelsea,” he cooed, which she smiled at despite the sarcasm, “what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Be nice,” Shannon said.

  Chelsea batted at the air. “My Clock goes off soon, and I decided to take some personal time to handle everything. I’ll be staying at Laguna Inn, that nice boutique hotel on the cliffside, until after I find my Rose Road. Mama and Daddy gave me a twelve-month leave.”

  “Mama and Daddy gave you a twelve-month leave?” Aiden’s eyes bulged, and he put on a mock southern accent. “Well, shit, howdy, who’s gonna watch the farm?”

  Shannon bristled. God forbid Aiden was anything but intentionally rude. He palmed Aiden’s face and shoved him backward. “Stop it,” Shannon snapped under his breath.

  “I see he’s as pleasant as ever. What a wonderful guy,” Chelsea sang.

  Aiden’s vicious howls echoed through the loft, laughter sharp enough to cut the tension. The bathroom door slammed, and Shannon sighed, relieved. Dealing with Chelsea was enough; dealing with Chelsea and Aiden was a deadly cocktail he wasn’t brave enough to drink. He tried to smile, but Chelsea’s attention got caught in the welts on his abdomen, long red stains from Aiden’s fingernails.

  “So, hi, you’re here,” Shannon said, pulling her attention back to his face. “You could’ve called, Chels.”

  “I know I could’ve, but I figured you’d try to talk me out of it.”

  “What? No, I would never…”

  Chelsea’s over-plucked eyebrows lifted.

  “You’re right, I would’ve.” Arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the doorway. “But you’re here now, and that’s great. And just…” He motioned toward the bathroom. “Sorry,” he said through clenched teeth, “about Aiden. You two are oil and water, you know?”

  “Oh, honey, don’t apologize.” She touched his shoulder and jerked her hand back when she realized she’d brushed a violet bruise. “It’s not like he has an off button, right?”

  “Aiden? No.” Shannon closed his eyes and shook his head. “God no.”

  “You two have anything planned for this evening?”

  “No, he has to work tonight, unfortunately.”

  “Well, if you aren’t doin’ anything, how about dinner, me and you? We can catch up, have a couple drinks; it’ll be fun!”

  Chelsea dragged out fun, all southern belle and magnolias, familiar and beautiful and unexpected. But Shannon glimpsed the genuine excitement in her eyes, the soft smile on her face, and the hopefulness stitched across her brow. She folded her hands; gold bangles jingled around her slender wrists.

  “I could really use a friend,” she added, the first bit of hones
ty she’d let past her lips. “And you’re about the best one I got.”

  Shannon’s heart sank. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Their history buzzed around them. The fact that she’d uprooted her life, come all this way, marched up Shannon’s stairs, and was asking him for nothing more than dinner, was a sad, sad thing.

  His stomach flipped. If he was the best thing she had, she didn’t have much.

  “Yeah, of course, I’ll show you around downtown and everything. It’ll be fun.” He was a better liar than she was, but a part of him acknowledged that it might not be a lie. Shannon was, on some level, excited to spend time with her.

  Chelsea may be annoying and boisterous and difficult, but she was still Chelsea. He owed it to her to be there when she needed him.

  She beamed. “Let’s say about six?”

  “Six,” Shannon repeated.

  “All right, then.”

  “All right,” he said gently. His accent followed hers, syrup-coating his words.

  Shannon shut the door. Chelsea’s heels click-clacked on the stairs. He leaned against it and stared at the light bulb above the entryway. The bathroom door cracked open.

  “She gone?”

  “Yes, Aiden. She’s gone. Thank you for being polite, as always.”

  “I’ll apologize later.”

  “Everyone knows how well your apologies go,” Shannon snapped. He glanced at Aiden, who narrowed his eyes. “She’s going to be here for a while; you get that, right?”

  Aiden rolled his eyes.

  “She’s my friend. I need you to at least try, okay?” Shannon turned his attention back to the light bulb, waiting for Aiden to bark at him or say something horrible. But Aiden did neither.

  Instead he said, “I’ll tolerate her as long as she tolerates me.”

  Shannon rubbed a hand over his face and heaved a sigh. “This is going to kill me. Both of you,” he groaned, “both of you are going to put me in the ground, I swear.”

  Wet feet plopped against the floor, trailing water with them. Shannon closed his eyes and inhaled a long steady breath. Aiden stood in front of him, soaking wet. A puddle formed around his feet. He walked his fingers up Shannon’s chest.

  “You’re getting water everywhere.”

  “I’m standing naked in front of you and ‘you’re getting water everywhere’ is what you say?” Aiden gripped Shannon’s cheek and pinched his chin with his thumb.

  “You left the shower running.” Shannon’s gaze trailed the length of Aiden’s body. The thought of Chelsea drifted farther and farther away.

  “For a reason,” Aiden mumbled. His fingernail stabbed Shannon’s jaw before he let his arm fall and took Shannon’s hand. “You coming or what?”

  “Are you going to be corrigible, Aiden Maar?”

  “Corrigible? No, probably not. I’ll be nice if she’s nice, though. Tell her not to be an uppity bitch, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  Aiden let go of Shannon’s wrist and took a step back. Water glistened on his skin; droplets curved down his torso and legs, clung to the tops of his collarbones, shone on his shoulders. He was something—Shannon was sure. As he looked at Aiden, lit by the afternoon light that poured in from the windows, he imagined how Chelsea must have felt looking at him, too. Aiden was distinctly beautiful and terribly intimidating, the sensation of doing something deliciously wrong.

  “Come here.” Shannon bit back a subdued smile.

  No wonder she hated Aiden.

  He stepped into Shannon’s space, gripped his wrists, and forced them against the door. Shannon allowed it, pleased at how hard Aiden kissed him, possessive and dirty and rough. He sealed their bodies together, dropped Shannon’s wrists to tug at the waistband of his sweats, pushed them down. Shannon clumsily followed him as they made their way toward the shower. Aiden’s hands gripped his face. Shannon pushed him against the bathroom door and slotted his hips between Aiden’s legs.

  “She’s a bitch; I’m an asshole. That’s not changing. You get that, right?” Aiden’s breath gusted Shannon’s mouth.

  Shannon nodded. He was aware of that, hypersensitive to it. “You’ll grow on each other.”

  Aiden forced a laugh through his teeth and turned the doorknob, almost tripping backward into the bathroom. Shannon steadied him with hands curled around his back. “Keep telling yourself that,” Aiden said.

  The bathroom was fogged with steam; the shower still sprayed hot.

  “I will,” Shannon said matter-of-factly.

  No wonder Chelsea hated Aiden, with all his authenticity and unapologetic attitude and genuine knowing of himself. He was everything she’d always wanted to be, and couldn’t.

  “Stop talking, just…” Aiden’s eyes closed; his hips were flush against Shannon’s. Warmth glowed in his cheeks; his jaw slackened. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, his second language, spoke to Shannon like a gun going off, an engine revving, a storm raging. “Just get on with it, get on with it.”

  God, no wonder she hated him.

  No wonder Shannon loved him.

  32

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:46 p.m.

  i cant believe youre taking her to dinner tonight

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 5:46 p.m.

  you said it was okay

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:47 p.m.

  I changed my mind

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 5:47 p.m.

  aiden

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:50 p.m.

  dont do that. its the universal holiday for romance and youre taking your ex to dinner? thats weird shannon.

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 5:51 p.m.

  because you’re so romantic.

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:51 p.m.

  wow thats nice

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 5:53 p.m.

  omg you had to work! shes all alone. Don’t make this a big deal. Theres no need to be jealous, you know that

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:54 p.m.

  I am not jealous of her

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 5:55 p.m.

  stop acting like it then. its dinner. thats it.

  Aiden Maar 2/14 5:59 p.m.

  Im coming over after work

  Shannon Wurther 2/14 6:01 p.m.

  Good

  Daisy’s eyebrows lifted. She stared at Aiden’s phone where he’d slid it across the bar. “Oh-hoh, wow. He’s actually taking this chick to dinner on Valentine’s Day?”

  “Yes,” Aiden snapped.

  He hadn’t realized how pissed he was until he got to work. Couples and triads and groups of people sauntered around 101, sipping drinks, eating complimentary strawberries, and rubbing up against each other. Aiden hadn’t realized how jealous he was until he thought of Chelsea slipping on something tight and whipping her bleached hair in Shannon’s face.

  “That’s kind of fucked-up,” Daisy said.

  Aiden shook a martini shaker over his shoulder—Carver was letting him bartend for the night—and strained the cocktail into a short glass over ice. The liquid was fluorescent pink, a shitty excuse for a raspberry-vanilla vodka and coconut rum cocktail. He shoved it at Daisy.

  “Should I be pissed?” Aiden asked. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “I feel like an asshole for being pissed.”

  “Would Shannon cheat on you?”

  “No, of course he wouldn’t.”

  “Is Chelsea a threat?”

  “No, but she’s irritating. I would rather chug drain cleaner than be in her presence.”

  “Then, no, you shouldn’t be pissed, but I get why you are.” Daisy sipped 101’s signature drink and gave a thumbs-up. “This is good; it tastes like I’m not getting laid tonight.”

  Aiden tried not to laugh, but he did, and Daisy laughed right along with him. She shrugged and shook her head. She had festive pink bows pinned above her ears and a heart-shaped button fastene
d to the front of her cropped black jacket.

  “Heard from Vance or Jonathan?” Aiden tested.

  Daisy’s eyes snapped forward, a warning. She sipped her drink and shook her head. Don’t go there rang loud in the silence, a testament to their train-wreck of a youth, before she sighed and said, “Are you going to fight with Shannon over this tonight? Because you shouldn’t.”

  Aiden accepted the swift subject change. “Chelsea is super-hot. She’s a fucking Barbie doll, and she’s smart, and she made something of herself, she’s…” He paused, reigning in his emotions. There was no need to shout about her success. He was sure Chelsea would be doing enough of that for everyone. He finished softly, growling out the words. “She’s a doctor, Daisy.”

  “So?” Daisy shrugged. “You’re hot, too. Look at you.” She flicked her index finger up and down. “You’re ridiculous. Don’t even get me started; you have nothing to worry about. Who cares if she’s a doctor?”

  “Yeah, whatever, but I’m not like her, okay?”

  Daisy made a dismissive noise. “Do you think Shannon really cares about that? He looks at you like you hung the goddamn sun, Aiden. You guys have a hell of a sex life. You go on dates at least twice a week. He bought you a camera, which means he actually pays attention.” Aiden opened his mouth to interrupt, but Daisy flashed her palm, silencing him. “He dresses like an asshole sometimes, but I mean, c’mon, we dress like assholes, too.” She sipped her drink, pointed her pinky at him, and said in a voice made raspy by the alcohol. “Don’t compare yourself to what he left behind.”

  Aiden shrugged while he dried a batch of freshly washed glassware.

  “I want to meet this chick, this Chelsea. I bet you anything she isn’t all that.”

  Aiden looked down his nose at Daisy. “She’s beautiful, and intelligent, and awful.”

  Daisy shook her head confidently. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “You want to meet her?”

  “I want to meet her,” she confirmed through a hard nod.