Beautifully Complicated (Front Range University #4)

17. Kier

Chapter seventeen

Kier

T his is a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that I’m not a fan of the cold, seeing Aiden outside school grounds is a dangerous proposition.

Hell, seeing him at all is dangerous considering what happened a few days ago, which miraculously hasn’t happened since, but that can hardly be blamed on our restraint since we haven’t been in the same room again.

God, I’m still reeling from that. Not just how unbelievably sexy that encounter was, but how unbelievably stupid. Logically, I know the date had a lot to do with it—there wasn’t a single soul in the building the day after Christmas—but crossing that bridge even once makes it all the more likely we’ll do it again before Aiden has his degree in hand.

I turn up the heater in the car as I wait for him to arrive, hoping he remembers to bring me those hand warmer things, and sort of dreading how close he’ll be once he gets in the car.

My restraint is waning. Every day it gets harder not to touch him, but I’ve held firm, never allowing myself to have contact with anything beyond his hand, and even that I’ve staunchly avoided. If I’m being literal, I’m still mostly in compliance with my no touching rule, but damn do I want to.

Having him so close while he was in the throes of ecstasy brought back all sorts of memories I’d been able to push aside so they didn’t constantly tempt me, and now, not only are they back, but I’ve got new ones to go with them.

That beautiful cock, aching and swollen. Long fingers, white at the knuckles from the strength of his grip. Thighs trembling as he punched into his fist.

Dammit, if I’m not careful I’ll end up sledding with a boner.

“Hi.” Aiden throws the door open, a gust of cold air pushing away the heat as he sits in the passenger seat.

Despite the chill, my chest warms at the sight of him.

“Hi,” I reply.

“Well, you’re not a no-show. I guess that means no second thoughts?” He asks as he points me in the direction I’m supposed to go.

“I have plenty of those. Am I willingly going to sit in the cold? Is it wise for a thirty-two-year-old man to slide down a mountain? Should I even be driving right now?”

“The roads are clear.” Aiden points to the white street, leading me to believe we have very different definitions of clear.

“I can’t see the asphalt.”

“Only because the snow is compacted. There’s barely an inch on the street. You act like you’ve never driven in snow before.” He points for me to take the next right.

“It’s been a while,” I mutter as I turn the car, hoping I don’t slide out.

“This is good practice then.”

I choose not to respond so I can concentrate, pulling up to a sparsely filled parking lot about ten minutes later. Since it’s twilight on New Year’s Eve, the bulk of the crowd has already dissipated, leaving us with a virtually wide open hill that we can take over for hours since there are lights overlooking it.

“Here.” Aiden hands me a pair of snow pants. “Put these on.”

“You do realize we’re the only people here without children.” I have to open the door just to have enough room to kick my legs out.

“Stop complaining.” He gets his own pants on then fusses with some sort of tiny white package that he hands to me. “And put one of these in each of your gloves.”

“Why would I—ooh, these are warm.”

“Told you.” He beams. “You’ll be nice and toasty. Come on.”

We grab the sled from the trunk, one of those long, skinny plastic things, and make our way to the top of the hill. Aiden sets it on the relatively flat ground at the top of the slope and kneels down to hold it in place. “Front or back?”

“We’re riding together?”

“Of course.”

“Will we even fit?” Neither of us is overly big, but we’re both hovering just shy of six feet with athletic builds, and the sled looks like it’s built for one.

“Just trust me. Front or back?”

“Back,” I say, reasoning that I might prefer to look at the back of Aiden’s head than whatever obstacle we’re probably going to hit.

Aiden sits toward the front of the sled and gestures for me to climb on behind. Once I’m situated, he drapes my legs over his so they’re more or less on the sled and instructs me to help him push us forward.

It takes a minute, but once we crest the top of the hill gravity takes over and we start to hurl downhill. I say hurl because together there’s a lot of weight on this sled, and nothing to keep us from falling.

Aiden wraps my arms around his torso, whether to keep me inside the moving object or give me something to hold onto I’m not sure. Either way, I’m not loosening my grip.

The cold wind makes my eyes water, but once I get past the initial sensation of falling it feels like I’m flying. Sort of. I mean, obviously my ass is still on the ground, but at the same time I have the sense that I’m soaring. And by the time we get to the bottom of the hill, I realize I’m laughing.

That’s one advantage of our age difference, he makes me feel like a kid again.

“Well?” Aiden asks as we glide to a stop.

I unlock my arms and flop backward so that my back is on the snow, my face pointing to the sky, feeling just as light as I did while we were barreling downhill. “I don’t remember this being so fun as a kid.”

“We probably got going a lot faster than you ever did.”

“Yeah, maybe. I can’t imagine going that fast standing up though.”

“It takes a little getting used to, but once you get the hang of it there’s nothing else like it.”

“For the first time since you told me you willingly suffer near hypothermia to do this, I can almost see it. I still want the electric jacket though. And maybe a scarf so my nose doesn’t get so cold.”

“That can be arranged.” Aiden laughs. “Come on, let’s go again. You’re in front this time.”

We trudge back up the hill, a reminder of why I haven’t done this for years since the climb is not as easy as it looks, and take several more runs before taking a break in the car to drink the hot chocolate Aiden brought in a thermos.

“How are your hands?” he asks.

“Not cold in the slightest. Those warmer things are genius.”

“So, you don’t need me to warm them up for you?” He blinks his lashes almost demurely, though it’s not as innocent a gesture as he’d have me believe.

“Leanbh.” I sigh. “Are you trying to cause trouble?”

“Guilty.” He traps his plump bottom lip with a tooth.

“The other day won’t hold you over for another few months?” I hold my breath, assuming I know the answer.

“I know it should,” Aiden says without any sign of flirting. “But no. It only made things worse.”

“Same,” I admit softly. “Quick, talk about something else before I forget all the reasons I’m not supposed to touch you.

Aiden tries to smile—unsuccessfully—but he does manage to get us on another topic.

“How did your meetings go?”

“Really well.”

When I don’t elaborate, Aiden sighs. “The whole point of talking about something else is to talk .”

I roll my lips while I debate what to say, not because this is a secret—not from Aiden anyway—I just didn’t want to tell him about it until things were more concrete.

“I’ve been exploring a new career oppor—”

“What?” He just barely manages not to spit out a mouthful of hot chocolate. “You’re leaving?”

“Let me finish, Leanbh.” I reach for the hand not holding his thermos and hold it in mine. “Remember how I said I have several thoughts about our future job options, and I wasn’t sure which one would be the best.”

“Yes,” he says warily.

“Well, I keep thinking that our specialty is so niche we’ll have to work at the same company if we want to live in the same place, so our relationship will always be in conflict with our work. I’d end up being some sort of mentor or supervisor, which would not only be an HR nightmare for the company but might cause people to read into any of your career advancements. The only way we can work together without anyone questioning my motives is if we’re equals.”

“I know I’m breaking my own rule here, but I feel obligated to point out that we can never be equals when you’ve got a decade of experience in a field I’m studying.”

“If we work for other people that’s true, but if we work for ourselves, we can have the same title or rank or whatever you want to call it.”

Aiden’s lips part slightly as he blinks his eyes, not a single line visible on his angelic face. It makes him look even younger, although that thought is secondary to how beautiful he is when he’s shocked and flattered.

“You’d… But that’s… I’m not qualified,” he sputters.

“Of course, you are. You’re already collaborating with me as my equal.”

“I’m just doing the math,” he tries to object, but I shake my head firmly.

“You’re hypothesizing, identifying variables, and testing the algorithms. Those are things I’d be teaching you how to do if you were just an assistant. Instead, you’re doing them on your own and then sharing your findings. I’d be an egotistical jerk if I considered you anything other than a partner.” I squeeze his hand to reinforce my words.

“I… But… What we do requires tens of millions of dollars of equipment. More probably. We can’t just—”

“We aren’t. At least not yet. That’s what my meeting was about.”

The tiniest crease appears between his brows. “I don’t understand.”

“A few years ago, I met a guy who wanted me to start a medical research company with him. At the time it wasn’t a good fit, so I declined, but when I was trying to solve our predicament, I thought he might be a good resource. We had dinner in Denver, and I told him what I was looking for. While he’s not opposed to it, since he didn’t pursue it after I turned him down it’d take some time to resurrect. Time we don’t have if we need to have jobs or grad school locked down by the time you graduate.”

“I thought you said this meeting went well.” Aiden looks at me like I might be losing it.

“Still not finished,” I tell him wryly. “Anyhow, the meeting made me realize that while we might not have the materials we need for our own company, we have the knowledge, and that’s a commodity we can capitalize on right away. We can form our own consulting company and hire ourselves out to the businesses that will support our research. We’d use their facilities, and while they’d own the IP for the work, as a partner of theirs rather than an employee, we might be able to negotiate a percentage of ownership for the work we do. But the most important factor in all this is that they hire our company, the one we own together.”

“That’s…” Aiden trails off, staring at me in disbelief. “What value do I bring to this? Putting aside what you said about us collaborating, to the outside world I’m a nobody. Doesn’t my involvement make it harder for this company to be legitimate? People will just assume you’re bringing your boyfriend along for the ride, and they might object to paying for a consulting team when they could have you .”

Even though he’s poking holes in my plan, I’ve never been more proud of him. This is why I want him as my partner; his mind is constantly firing.

“Some people might think that, yes. But I have two responses for anyone who raises that objection.”

“And those are…” Aiden prompts when I don’t immediately volunteer my ideas.

“First, we don’t have to disclose our personal relationship to the people that hire us. They can think I found you so brilliant I just had to make you my work partner, which wouldn’t be wrong. And second, anyone who knows me knows I wouldn’t go into business with someone on a whim.”

“They might, if they know who I am to you.” He worries his lip in a way that makes me want to soothe it with my own.

“Even if they know that, they know how important my work is to me, so they’d come to the conclusion that I found my perfect match.”

“They wouldn’t say he’s thinking with the wrong head? Going through a midlife crisis and trying to reclaim his youth. Now I get why you were so worried about my age.” He goes on a mini rant.

“If anyone does say that they don’t really know me. And once they meet you, they’ll know why I fell for you. Personally and professionally.”

Aiden’s lip seems to tremble as he takes a shaky breath. “You really want to start a business with me? That’s a pretty permanent step.”

“Isn’t that what we are? Permanent?” That’s not a fair question considering neither of us has knocked down the last barrier between us, but I’m asking anyway. He’s the one that’d be giving up his freedom at such a young age, and I want him to be certain, without any influence from me.

“I’d like us to be,” he whispers.

“I’d like that too.”

He gasps softly, almost as if he’s surprised by that. Or shocked that I admitted it. “Does this mean we don’t have to hide anymore?”

“No.” My heart seems to miss a beat as his face falls. “We still have to start the company, and I’d prefer not to have any scandal about us come out before that’s official.”

“Okay.” He puts on a brave face. “But can we at least celebrate the fact that you love me? Maybe with a New Year's kiss?”

Apparently we don’t have to worry about that last barrier anymore.

“I never said that.” My attempt to keep a straight face is futile, and Aiden grins almost wickedly when he catches me trying to reel in my own.

“You didn’t have to. I feel it all the time, but especially when you make a gesture like this. Just like I know you feel how much I love you.”

“I do, Leanbh.” I sift my fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his neck so I can bring his mouth to mine.

When our lips brush together for the first time in months, I feel both grounded and weightless. Safe and free. This man… There’s no logical explanation for how quickly or deeply I fell for him, I only know I’m incomplete without him.

Though we’re both desperate for more, talk of the future—and our mutual confessions—seem to keep some of our baser urges at bay. I’m oddly grateful for that, because while my body craves his with increasing urgency, the fact we can kiss without expecting anything more is a powerful confession in and of itself. Our lust is strong, but our love is stronger.

Later, when I’m in my own bed as the clock strikes midnight, the memory of Aiden’s soft lips pressed against mine is so vivid it feels real, and I drift off with a goofy smile.