'And spite's as good a reason to take his power'
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Almost twenty years ago, Logan Roy had an affair with Elizabeth Ronan's mother, one that ended in her divorce and a number of rather unsavoury news s...
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||CHAPTER 12 – The Promise of a Reckoning||
(Season 2 Ep 3 – 'Hunting')
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(A/N –So, Episode 3 is predominantly the hunting trip and that infamous 'Boar on the floor' game. But, I didn't want to skip over the episode, because there was a scene with Roman and Tabitha that I really wanted to use. So, this is a slightly shorter instalment again, but there is a new character introduced and I'm interested to see what you'll make of him. Enjoy!)
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(London – 1 Year Ago....)
Pale blue moonlight crept in through the poorly drawn curtains, highlighting the ridges and divots of Aidan's muscled chest, causing the few droplets of sweat that lingered on his skin from their exertion to glisten like tiny gemstones. His head was angled towards Elizabeth with a sort of determination that made it feel like even in sleep, he was assessing her. He did that a lot, found ways to look upon her with as intensity that probably should have burnt her, but that felt like being warmed in fading sunlight instead.
Elizabeth, entirely satisfied but far from tired, sat up in the bed, letting the sheets pool around her waist in silken swirls, the cool air from the slightly cracked window a not unpleasant prickle against her naked chest. Before getting up, she leant over and brushed away an ash-blonde curl that had fallen over his forehead and was tickling his eyelid. He stirred at the contact, his hand reaching up to ghost softly against her own, attempting to pull her back down to him, but she took his hand and placed it back down on the bed. He turned onto his side with a sigh, the sheets falling away from his lithe form almost completely.
Elizabeth took one more indulgent moment to look at him, amused by the briefly attentive touch he'd given.
The best way to describe Aidan Rockwell was forceful. Never in a way that crossed a boundary, but in a manner that balanced deliciously upon it; that left his fingertips on the skin of her hips and arms in soft shades of blue; like he'd had ink on his fingers when he'd touched her. It meant that the version of him after sex, or in the realm that border sleep, when he was gentler, more tactile, was a pleasant change for her to witness. He was a domineering man, and while very attentive in his passion, he couldn't be called affectionate.
For the first year of their dalliance, every time they'd slept together, they had both insisted it could never happen again. But it always did. They would make the hollow vow on satiated, heady breaths after they finished, only to fall into bed together the next time they saw each other.
Aidan had been the last to say it, 'This can't happen again' mumbled while he was still doing up the fly of his trousers, after their rushed fumble in the bathroom of a party neither of them had wanted to be at. But soon after that, they'd admitted to themselves that they weren't going to stop, and almost three years later, they still found themselves drawn to each other.
