“What are you doing here?” Millie asked, keeping her eyes on the wall instead of him.
“Amelia, you okay?” Aidan’s voice came out carefully, like he was trying not to spook her.
“You look shaken up.”
She pulled in a breath.
“I’m fine.”
Even she didn’t buy it.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
“There’s a lot I have to explain.”
“Explain?” The word slipped out before she could catch it.
Aidan took a small step closer.
“I know I left the penthouse without saying goodbye. I’m sorry.”
He reached for her arm, but she turned away.
Her hand twitched toward the door handle, then fell back.
Andrea was probably asleep by now.
“Please, Amelia. Just hear me out.”
She wanted more than words, but not in the hallway.
“Not here,” she muttered.
She grabbed his wrist and tugged him down the corridor.
They didn’t stop until they reached the laundry room.
Aidan glanced around at the stacked baskets and humming dryer.
“You sure about this spot? My room might be better,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting a little.
“No,” Millie said.
He studied her face.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“What were you doing out there?” she asked, sharper than she meant to.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said.
“You left me in your penthouse with a note.” The bitterness came out stronger than she expected.
“So that’s how you do things now? Apologies and notes?”
Aidan’s face dropped.
“Amelia, it wasn’t like that. I had to leave right then. I swear I planned to come back the next day, but everything got messy fast.”
Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
“Messy? Does that include disappearing for days without a word? You could’ve called. Texted. Anything.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself.
“I’m sorry—for leaving like that, for not calling, for not coming back sooner, for not finding you when I finally could.”
“Look, let’s be real—”
“Amelia.” He stepped in, noticing the flush on her cheeks, the way she held herself tight.
“You’re shaking. Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened.
Okay?” Millie stared at him for a second, then said, “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Millie’s eyes moved over him—his chest, the familiar ink, the way his muscles tensed, jeans sitting low on his hips.
He stepped closer, a small smile playing on his lips, and put his hands on her waist, pulling her in.
“It’s really good to see you again, Amelia.”
“Nice to see you too,” she said.
“Now kiss me.”
“Hmm… missed this,” Aidan said, his thumb brushing her cheek.
She shivered.
He kissed her slowly.
Millie kissed him back, fingers sliding into his hair.
He lifted her skirt, his hand moving between her thighs, stroking the soft skin inside.
She made a quiet sound.
His fingers brushed her panties, felt how wet she was, and he licked his lips.
“Already soaked,” he said.
He pushed the fabric aside and ran one finger along her.
“Take them off,” she whispered.
“Please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He hooked the waistband, tugged them down, and tossed them aside.
Millie pulled off the apron and unbuttoned her top.
Aidan unhooked her bra and let it drop.
She hopped up onto the table next to the washing machine.
He leaned in, mouth closing over one nipple, hand slipping back between her legs.
Fingers parted her, one sliding inside while his tongue worked her breast.
“Fuck…” Millie bit her lip.
Ethan disappeared from her head.
Only Aidan.
“Missed that mouth, Amelia.” He pulled back, pushed her skirt up around her waist, spread her open, and looked at her.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
His lips curved.
“I love it when you get needy, sweetheart.”
Her breath caught.
Sweetheart?
The word hit her warm and unexpected.
He hadn’t said that before.
Then Aidan dropped to his knees and hooked her left leg over his shoulder, pressing kisses along her inner thigh.
Millie trembled when his tongue dragged a slow line up her center.
“Oh, fuck… Aidan…” she moaned, fingers threading through his hair.
They heard footsteps right outside the door.
Aidan slapped a hand over her mouth and kept going.
Aidan let out a low sound against her.
He swirled his tongue along her folds, then pressed in deeper.
Millie’s cry broke free behind his hand, her body shaking.
He let go of her mouth and grabbed her hips with both hands, holding her still while she tugged at his hair, pleasure building fast.
“Aidan, I’m coming…” she gasped, grinding against him.
He sucked harder, tongue moving in and out.
Her orgasm hit in seconds—back arching, toes curling, hips bucking against his mouth.
Footsteps tapped across the floor outside.
The doorknob rattled.
“Why’s this locked?” a voice asked.
“Oh shit,” Millie whispered, sitting up fast.
Her hands dropped from his hair.
But Aidan’s eyes lit with mischief.
He grinned, tilted his head, and dragged his tongue in a slow circle over her sensitive spot.
Millie gasped.
The jolt hit hard.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Her mind screamed to push him away before they got caught—but her hips tilted forward anyway, asking for more.
“Aidan,” she hissed behind her fingers.
Her heart pounded loudly.
She wanted to yell at him, to beg him to stop, but the way he looked at her—bold and completely unbothered—and what his tongue was doing kept her frozen.
He tapped her with quick little licks, then slowed into a long swirl that dragged everything out.
Then he paused, letting his tongue hover just above her, the wait almost painful, before diving back in with one deep stroke that made her hips jerk.
She bit her lip hard, the sting the only thing keeping her quiet.
Another voice came through the door.
“Have you seen Evan?” It was Mr. Jameson.
The knob rattled again.
“No, Mr. Jameson. Probably still in his office. Should I get him?” Sheila answered.
“Yes. Tell him Ethan wants to talk to him. Now.”
Millie’s pulse roared in her ears.
Aidan gave her one last slow swirl, then pulled back.
His lips were wet, his grin wide as she slumped against the wall, breathing hard.