That Kiss

He watches me like I'm a science experiment.

And as we watch, the female of the species attempts to assimilate this impossibility, until without warning, her brain explodes . . .

"Aiden . . .?" I whisper.

"It's perfectly safe." And he takes a step back, away from the wall.

He's standing on air. I can see the lawn twenty feet down, the space between him and the grass. Hear his words, which should echo through the clear night, bounce off a surface that isn't there.

"How the—"

"I told you, Kate," he says in a voice so low and deep, I can't tell if he's trying to stay undetected, or seduce me. "The only limitation is your strength, and your imagination. Think of it like turning water into ice-cubes. Except it's air. And I can make it any shape I want."

I gape at his feet. He looks like he's levitating. Two stories up.

"Do you want to come out—"

"No!" I jerk myself back inside, sit on my heels. Is he crazy?

Aiden shrugs. "Well, can I come in? It's cold out here."

Although the days have been unseasonably warm, the nights are growing cool.

Do I trust him enough to invite him into my room in the middle of the night?

As if he can read my mind, his lips thin and gives me a look that, on anyone else, I'd say was wounded. "I'd never hurt you, Kate. I just want to talk. I promise." There's a depth in the words that makes my heart thrill.

There's no way I should be risking this. But Mom and Dad are already in bed downstairs. And Amy wouldn't tell on me even if she found us . . . would she?

"Okay. But be really quiet, okay?"

I back off the bed and lock my bedroom door. With a feline grace I'd find creepy on someone else, Aiden slinks in through the window to my bed. He makes a big show of jiggling up and down like he's trying to get a feel for the mattress, before propping himself on my extra pillows and leaning back against the wall.

When he lifts an eyebrow at me I realize I'm still standing in front of the bedroom door. But I can't seem to move. Even when he smiles and says, "Hi," in this gorgeous, low voice that ticks three items off my bucket list, all by itself.

"Hi."

"I won't bite, Kate."

For some reason I can't bring myself to sit on the bed. His long body is stretched out. When he raised his arms his shirts rode up to reveal a sliver of his stomach, right above his belt. The roof of my mouth goes dry.

"What are you doing here?" I rasp.

Aiden hesitates. Then, "Remember when I first channeled with you in that classroom. Told you I didn't want to wait three months for you to figure it out and ask?

I nod.

He clears his throat, squirms a little. "Well, I'm impatient about something else, too."

My heart skips a beat. "What?"

"You."

I swallow audibly. "What about me?" Please mean what I think you mean. Please.

"I was at that party tonight and all I could do was keep looking around in case you changed your mind and showed up," he says with quiet intensity. "There were girls there and . . ."

While he searches for the word he wants, I shove a surge of jealousy aside.

"I couldn't have cared less. I want you," he says simply. "I want you close. All the time. To have the right to touch you whenever I want. And . . . protect you."

I blink, "I don't need you to protect me. I can handle myself," I blurt, but my voice is too high.

Aiden looks down at his lap, scratches one arm, disappointment warring with embarrassment on his face and I'm sick that I'm the one who put those there.

Shit. He thinks I'm rejecting him. I swallow hard. "B-but the rest. Us. We could—" His eyes return to my face, pinpoints in the dark. "I mean, I'd like that."

We stare for a breathless second. Then, in a single, smooth movement, Aiden's off the bed and standing toe-to-toe with me.

I'd forgotten how tall he was. I want to flinch, to step back. But my breath's coming faster, and so is his.

His locks eyes with me, his hair falling forward almost into his eyes. He doesn't twitch it away. His Adam's apple bobs. I'm filled with the urge to stroke his neck. My hand twitches, but I keep it at my side.

"To be clear," he says, his voice husky, yet sweet like honey, "I want to be your boyfriend."

I nod. "I want that too."

For a second he doesn't move, but his eyes heat. Then one of his hands slides to my waist and around my back to pull me in. The other plunges into my hair. I gasp and he doesn't even hesitate. He takes my mouth, tangles our tongues, and pulls me in so tight I'm arched onto my toes. Then he groans.

My entire body hums and tenses in the same moment.

Aiden kisses me like I'm a drug and he's an addict. He kisses me so I don't even care that I'm braless and pressed into his chest, or that my bare knees rub against his jeans. Every touch prickles my skin, every breath thunders in my ear. His touch is demanding and tender, needy and confident. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating. Even without channeling.

When he drops his chin to kiss my neck, I shiver. My skin pebbles from where his lips trace the little spot under my ear to my toes on that side. I grip his waist and exhale loudly.

"Aiden—"

He makes a deep noise in the back of his throat and it hits me that I've got to get out of this. I've never done . . . this sober. Plus, I swore I wouldn't go all-in with the next guy. Not right away. My counsellor warned me about it, and after Lester . . .

I tense and a second later, Aiden freezes.