Deleted Alex and Aiden Scene (from Pure)

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Aiden threw up his hands. In such a small space, the gesture pretty much took up all the room. “Don’t you think that my disappointment has nothing to do with the fact Seth was in your room, but that you would so blatantly break the rules again?”

“That is so lame, Aiden. I break the rules all the time.”

“My point exactly,” he said dryly.

I really have no idea what provoked the next words to come out of my mouth. Maybe it had to do with all the pent up frustration. All those times we trained together and we were so very close, and yet so far apart from one another. Maybe I just wanted to piss him off. “You’re disappointment comes from him being in my bed and not you. Anybody else could admit that.”

Aiden let out a strangled breath, and I knew I went too far. He was going to yell at me. Lecture me about how I never think. Worst yet, I knew—just knew—Aiden would say I had it all wrong. That he had let go of whatever had happened between us. And I was pretty sure I might cry if he did so. Or hit him. Neither would be fun. So I had to say something to outdo what I said a few seconds ago.

“You said I was beautiful once,” I said in a rush. “Don’t you still think I’m beautiful?”

Frustration and something else flared in his eyes. Hunger maybe? I took it and ran with it. “I don’t . . . I don’t think you look beautiful. You look . . . exquisite.” He placed his hand over mine. “You always do.”

“Exquisite?” I smiled broadly. “I like that.”

“You would,” he replied with a sigh.

Wonderful warmth spread over me. “Do you think anyone else is exquisite?”

He tipped his head to the side and strands of dark hair fell against his cheek. He sighed again. “Alex, don’t.”

His words were more like a soft plea, but they had no impact on me. “Do you? Tell me you do and I’ll stop. I’ll even be quiet. For like a week. Just tell me you feel this with anyone else.”

Those eyes switched from pale gray to liquid silver. An instant later Aiden pulled me right up against him. “You always push.”

“I do?” I whispered, my pulse pounding through me. I was like a kid. Any attention was good attention. As long as he paid attention to me. I wanted him to touch to me, to want me as badly as I wanted him.

And he did.

Our lips met. He gave no warning. His mouth was on mine, and all thought fled. Lost to the simple touch, to the act that was so forbidden, we both risked everything. Urgency burned between us, deepening the kiss. His hands slid to my waist, fingers pressing fire into my spine. A rich ache blossomed, spreading out of control. My nails dug through his thermal, and he backed me up. I knocked into a cart, spilling sheets onto the floor. He pressed closer and one hand snaked down my hip and over my thigh, and then he brought it up so my leg hooked around his.

With so very little clothing between us, I was quickly reminded of the night in his room, on his bed. The memory fueled the fervor, and my hands sunk into the strands of his hair.

His lips left me spinning, gasping for air. I couldn’t get enough him. My hips moved toward him, my hands slid to his shoulders, down his arms, and under his shirt. Things were spiraling madly. Everywhere he touched, my skin burned and my soul sung.

And even though I felt like I would come apart at any second, this was so much more than a physical thing. Desperation clung to the edge of each kiss, to the way our bodies were sealed together, chest to knees. So tightly I could feel his heart thundering. And in the midst of all these glorious sensations, I realized something so important, so powerful.

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