Текст книги "The Spanish love deception"

Автор книги: Elena Armas

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

Our song?

My ears took the song blasting through the speakers as my brain worked out the situation slowly.

It was impossible not to recognize the beat. How could I not when that infamous video of my sister and me dancing to this very same song had been played over and over at family gatherings and Christmas for the last twenty years? Both the music and the choreography were ingrained in my brain forever. “Yo Quiero Bailar” by Sonia y Selena was playing, and that only meant one thing.

“Time to pay up!” Gonzalo cheered.

That was followed by everyone else making as much space as they could around Isabel and me as the rest of Team Bride assembled behind us to deliver the payout for losing the Wedding Cup.

My body came alive with the familiar beat.

“You’ll pay for this, bridezilla,” I yelled over the music as we looked at each other, readying our positions to start the infamous choreography.

“Me?!” she yelled back as we moved our butts in sync. “You’ll thank me later.”

We swirled with our arms up and then shimmied our way down.

“What do you mean?” I demanded as we bumped our hips, following through with the stupid dance.

I was aware of the rest of our improvised array of back dancers from Team Bride somewhere behind us. They were replicating our moves as well as they could. To their credit, I didn’t think my sister’s—or my—drunken attempts were that easy to imitate.

“What I mean is …” Isabel said as we came closer again, faced each other, and high-fived over our heads. Then, we started lowering our bodies to the floor with the beat of the song, making our way down in a way that was supposed to be seductive and probably ended up being unnaturally clumsy. “If your boyfriend’s smoldering eyes are any indication, you are so going to get extra laid tonight.”

Her words had barely entered my ears and registered when I almost landed on my ass.

My head shot to my side, taking in our audience and immediately landing on a very particular set of eyes. Smoldering eyes, as Isabel had just put it. And as my body went through the motions, relying on only muscle memory, I couldn’t tear my gaze off that pair of piercing blue eyes.

I executed the routine almost absently, not able to look anywhere else. Magnetized by those two blue spots that seemed to be ignited with light. And while I could blame the alcohol running through my bloodstream, I couldn’t figure out what his excuse was.

He ate up every ridiculous and silly motion as if he were contemplating something that was more than a routine created by a pair of teenagers a bunch of years ago. He looked at me as if I was more than a grown-ass woman executing a goofy and wacky dance. Like he couldn’t get enough. Just as if he were about to part the crowd and close the distance between us so he could drink in even the smallest of my motions.

I had never been looked at that way. Not ever.

When the song came to an end and transitioned into the next hit from a decade ago, whatever was passing between Aaron and me churned low in my stomach. With urgency. So much that it made me dizzy and flustered and about to crawl out of my skin.

The memory of my body flush against his flickered through my mind. That had only happened a few minutes ago.

My heart raced in my chest as I tried to gather myself, to control my breath. Sweat dripping down my back and arms, an overwhelming sensation made its way across my whole body.

I needed air, fresh air. That always helped.

“I’m going outside for a second,” I told Isabel as I wrapped her in a quick hug.

My sister nodded, distracted by the song playing, which happened to be her new favorite tune in the world. I veered for the door, not daring to look back at Aaron. I couldn’t. I just … couldn’t.

I needed to order my thoughts.

Once I made my way through the sea of dancing bodies, I stepped outside. The night was warm and humid, and I welcomed the breeze from the sea hitting my skin.

The relief was instant but short-lived. Now, my legs seemed to weigh about a hundred pounds each.

But I’d take that over everything I had been feeling back inside. I also regretted every drink I had had tonight. Maybe with a clearer mind, I’d be able to understand whatever the hell was going on. Particularly why my heart seemed to be plotting against me.

Letting myself fall onto the side of the road, I sat, so I could rest my legs. This was a pedestrian area, and only resident cars were allowed to drive through. Given the time, almost three in the morning, chances of being run over were low. So, I took my time, trying to appease whatever was still making my skin flush and tingle.

Eyes shut and elbows on my knees, I focused on the muffled music coming out of the bar.

The door behind me opened and closed quickly after.

I knew he was there before he said anything. He didn’t need to. I was attuned to him, it seemed. To this quiet man whose presence always spoke to me far louder than his words. Not turning back, I listened to his heavy footsteps as he walked to where I was, sitting on the lukewarm pavement of the sidewalk. Aaron let his body fall into place right beside me. His long legs stretched ahead, taking possibly two times the space mine did.

A bottle of water fell softly on my lap.

“You’ll probably want to drink that,” Aaron said.

The overwhelming sensation that had pushed me to walk outside had not dissipated yet, hampering my thoughts.

He nudged my leg with his knee, encouraging me.

I regarded the bottle still on my lap. I was so freaking exhausted all of a sudden, and my arms felt too heavy to reach for it and open it. My whole body felt like that. And Aaron was sitting so close, all big and warm, so inviting for me to lean my head on his arm and close my eyes for just a minute. Just one really short nap.

“No sleeping, baby. Please.” Aaron snagged the bottle from where he had placed it, opened it, and shoved it back in my hand. “Drink up,” he said softly.

Another nudge of his leg.

And what a beautiful leg that was. He probably had more muscles on his quadriceps alone than I had on my whole body. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I took a big gulp of water as I continued my perusal.

That is a very good-looking right thigh, I thought as I returned the bottle to my lap.

A little chuckle had me glancing at the man responsible for it. His lips bent in a lopsided smile, distracting me.

“Thank you,” he said, his smile stretching. “Nobody has ever complimented that particular part of my leg.”

I frowned.

Did I say that out loud?

Ah Hell.

Looking at him, still in silence, I opted to drink some more water. My brain was clearly dehydrated if I was going around, voicing whatever crossed my mind.

“Feeling better?” Aaron asked from my side.

“Not yet,” I gave him a wobbly smile. “But thank you.”

His frown made an appearance, wrinkling his forehead. “I’ll take you back to the apartment. Come on.” The legs I had been so busy admiring flexed, ready to push his body upward.

“No, wait.” My hand landed on that very good-looking—and oh, really hard—thigh, stopping him. “Not yet, please. Can we stay here just for a little while?”

Aaron’s blue eyes seemed to assess something, probably my state. But his big body stayed put beside mine.

“Thanks.” My gaze fell back on his stretched legs again. “There’s something I need to tell you. A confession.” I didn’t look back at him, but I sensed him tense. “I Googled you, just once. But I did.”

Aaron seemed to ponder that for a moment. But he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he snatched the bottle of water from my grip, opened it, and indicated to me to drink some more.

I complied and downed the rest of the contents. Then, he retrieved the empty bottle, and I thought I heard him mutter something, but I wasn’t sure.

“I found lots of stuff, you know. That’s why I only allowed myself to Google you one single time,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was scared of finding something that would change what I thought of you.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, and no.” Had what I found changed the image I had of Aaron? I didn’t think I could answer that. “I probably scrolled down photos upon photos of you until Google had nothing else to show me.”

“That’s a lot of scrolling.”

“I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want to hear about what I found?”

He didn’t answer, so I told him anyway, “There was this one image of you in the middle of the field; your back was to the camera, and you had your golden helmet hanging off your hand. I couldn’t see more than your back, but I swear I could tell what your face looked like. I could picture in my head how your eyebrows were wrinkled on your forehead and how your jaw was bunched up—the way you do when you are upset but you don’t want to show you are.”

Aaron had gone quiet, so I stole a glance at him. He was looking at me, and there was something that looked a lot like shock in his expression.

But I was no-filter Lina tonight, and I didn’t seem to care about talking or revealing too much. “Then, there were the articles,” I went on. “There were more than a few, and they all praised you as a player. As an NFL promise. But then it all stopped. It was as if you had dropped off the face of the earth.”

Aaron’s eyes looked vacant, as if he were no longer there with me, sitting on the sidewalk in the Spanish town that had seen me grow up.

I continued, not because I wanted to press him for details, but because I somehow couldn’t stop from explaining myself, “I don’t think there are many football promises who hang the helmet for the not-so-glamorous life we lead as engineers for a medium-sized technology company.” I didn’t know much about how college football worked, but the little I had read during my Googling session told me I wasn’t wrong. “Ever since you told me about it, I have been wondering what could have possibly led you to make such a decision. An injury? Burnout? How does someone jump from one side to the other?”

I brushed my fingers across his forearm. I thought it would startle him, but it didn’t. Instead, his other hand wrapped around mine, and then he placed our interlaced fingers on his thigh.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” I squeezed his hand. It was really okay, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel somehow disappointed. “If you don’t want to tell me.”

Aaron didn’t say anything for a long moment. I used that time to come to terms with the fact that he’d never open up to me. Not that I’d blame him. I hadn’t been completely honest with him about my past either. But as much as I tried to tell myself otherwise, the falling sensation in my chest made it hard to ignore how I really felt. I wanted to know. I wanted to unearth and learn everything about his past because I knew deep inside me that it was the key to finally understanding the man he was today. And him not letting me in only reminded me that I wasn’t different from anybody else.

“Catalina,” he finally said, and he followed that with a deep and tired sigh. “I want to tell you. I’d gladly tell you everything about me.”

My heart decided to resume all those shenanigans I had been dealing with that night. He’ll tell me everything about him.

“But you are barely standing on your own feet. You are in no condition to stay with me for a complete conversation.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I said very quickly. “I am not that drunk. I will listen, I promise.” Even though I was feeling slightly better, there were chances I’d fall on my face if I moved too fast. But that wouldn’t stop me. “I can prove it. Look.” My legs pushed my body up, propelling me in a rather wobbly way. But that didn’t matter. I’d prove to Aaron I was completely fine.

I wasn’t going to let the chance slip through my slightly intoxicated fingers or legs—

A pair of big hands cut my trajectory, holding me by the waist.

“Easy there. Let’s keep the standing to a minimum,” Aaron said as he effortlessly returned me to my former position, right beside him. Perhaps a little closer to his body. Which I wouldn’t complain about. “Do you want to know that badly?”

“Yes. I want to know everything,” I confessed, following no-filter Lina’s lead again.

A humorless laugh left him. “I never planned for this to happen this way.”

My hazy brain didn’t really understand that, but before I could ask, he continued, “I always played football. That was all I knew for almost two decades. My dad was sort of a big deal in the coaching and management world back home, in Washington.” Aaron shook his head, those disheveled, short locks almost flickering under the soft light of the street. “He knew how to spot potential, had done it a million times. He was known for that. So, when he realized I had that raw talent he talked about so much, it was as if all those years of his career had been preparing him for that. For having a son he could mold into the perfect player from the very beginning.”

“He coached you since you were a kid?” I murmured.

Aaron flexed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “More than that. He turned me into his own personal project. He had this kid with potential for becoming everything he had dreamed of, right at home. And he had the tools and the experience to make that possible. There was no room for failure. He worked hard on turning me into this flawless football machine, which he had carefully assembled together since the moment my legs were strong enough to run after a ball and my hands were large enough to hold one.” Aaron paused. He was facing the gloomy street in front of us, and I could see how his profile turned hard. “We both worked on that. And for the longest time, I thrived in it.”

I found myself shifting closer to him until my arm and shoulder were completely flush against him.

“How did that change?” I asked, letting my body lean a little on Aaron’s side. “When did you stop enjoying playing?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, something softening in his expression. “That photo you mentioned earlier?” he asked, and then he faced away from me, staring into the empty street in front of us. “That was the last game I ever played.” Aaron paused, and I could tell he needed a moment to gather himself from the way his voice had sobered. “That happened exactly one year after my mom passed away.”

My heart squeezed in my chest, and I felt this urge to wrap my body around him, so I could shield him from the pain in his voice. But I limited myself to grabbing his warm hand and slipping my fingers between his. Aaron brought our interlaced hands to his lap.

“In that moment, as I stood there, watching the crowd and my teammates celebrate a victory I couldn’t bring myself to care about, I decided I’d pull out from the draft. And I did.”

“That must have hurt so much,” I told him, my thumb caressing the warm skin on the back of his hand. “All of it, losing your mom and letting go of something you had worked all your life toward.”

“It did, yeah.” His head dipped, and I watched him look at our intertwined hands. “My dad couldn’t understand it. He wouldn’t even try.” A bitter chuckle left him. “My football career had turned into the perfect escape, following Mom’s diagnosis. Instead of that consolidating our father-and-son relationship, it turned us into coach and player instead. Nothing more than that.”

More loss. My heart broke for Aaron. I squeezed his hand and then very slowly leaned my head on his arm.

He continued, “He said I was throwing away my life. My future. That I would fail. That if I did drop an opportunity that would change my life, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me. So, I graduated and left Seattle.”

Aaron still held my hand in his lap; his fingers had tightened around mine as he talked. I kept the side of my head on him as I felt my other hand fly to his forearm. It was the only way I could express how sorry I was for what he had gone through without engulfing him in a tight hug I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go of. At least, not for the rest of the night.

“It must have been so hard, growing up, limited by someone else’s idea of what you should and should not be.”

He absently played with my fingers, the soft caresses of his skin against mine causing tingles to crawl up my arm. “I realize that now, in hindsight. I never noticed while it happened; it was just how things were. I was given a set of goals, and I simply went with it,” he explained, his thumb trailing up my wrist. “I was never unhappy—at least, not until I realized that perhaps I wasn’t completely happy either.”

“And now? Are you completely happy now, Aaron?”

Those soft brushes of his fingers against mine came to a stop, and he didn’t hesitate when he answered, “Completely? Not yet. But I’m working my fucking hardest on getting there.”

Chapter Nineteen

For anyone witnessing my foolish attempts at reaching the bedroom, it would have been pretty obvious that I was about to face-plant on the floor. And they wouldn’t be wrong. It was a wonder I was able to move at all, considering my feet barely lifted off the ground with all the dragging they had been carrying out.

Ironically, and contrary to the story my body told, I didn’t think I had ever felt more awake than I did as I crossed the threshold of that door.

My head was working at full speed. Processing everything Aaron had told me about his past. I kept spinning and turning even the tiniest pieces of information until I was completely sure I had them pinned down securely so they wouldn’t flee my memory.

Never mind that my legs wobbled with every step I took and exhaustion throbbed through my body. Aaron’s confession—because it had felt like he was unveiling something he had kept guarded and locked away from sight—had created a little riot in my head.

And my chest. Definitely my chest too. The organ that resided there had constricted and squeezed, and I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t supposed to feel that way. Or to act on it. A part of me missed being drunk or tipsy enough not to care, but after all the water Aaron had insisted on me gulping down and the fact that I hadn’t touched a drink after we went back inside the infamous bar, I didn’t have the luxury of that excuse anymore. It was past five in the morning, and the effect of the alcohol had faded to a very low buzz that indicated tomorrow wasn’t going to be much fun.

I didn’t realize I had been standing in the middle of the bedroom, staring into empty space, until Aaron closed the door behind him. When I turned, my gaze immediately fell on the glass of water in his hand.

I watched him walk to the nightstand, where I had placed a few of my things, and set the glass there.

“That for me?” I knew the answer, but the small gesture turned something inside of me to mush. Just like every time he had watched after me tonight. It just … didn’t feel all that small anymore. “If you keep taking care of me this fiercely, it’s going to be really hard to go back to real life.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have phrased it that way, but after everything that had happened tonight, the careful grip I tried to maintain around Aaron seemed to be loosening.

Aaron nodded, his expression turning somewhat more serious. But he didn’t comment on what I had said. Instead, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and then changed his mind and started fumbling with the wristband of his watch.

Feeling my legs wobble—for all the wrong reasons—I walked to the edge of the bed and sat on top of the simple and silky comforter. Stopping my body from melting into it right away, I exhaled tiredly, releasing some of the tension in my shoulders. But before I could completely relax, my spine stiffened with a realization.

The bed.

We would be sharing this very same bed tonight.

That fact had somehow fled my mind until now. And its return did strange things to my belly. Things that were not strange in a funny way, but in a rather exciting way. Things that heated my skin.

Well, if I was feeling this way and we hadn’t even gotten into bed yet, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen when I found myself tucked under the same comforter as Aaron. His large body and my much smaller one sharing and crowding the modest space the mattress offered.

And I … shit.

In an attempt to distract myself, I occupied my hands, taking the flats off my hurting feet. Once I was done with that, I rubbed my temples, telling myself to chill the heck out because this was okay. We were adults. About to share a bed. So?

“How bad is it?” Aaron asked from where he stood still at the other end of the bed.

I chuckled, but it came closer to the sound that someone who was choking would make. “Well”—I cleared my throat—“I feel like I was run over by a stampede of very angry and very heavy antelopes that were in a rush to get somewhere.”

Aaron appeared in my field of vision, coming to a stop in front of me. “Are you referencing Mufasa’s death?”

My fingers stopped working, hovering above my temples. “You like The Lion King?”

“Of course.”

“Any other Disney movies?” I was tempting my luck here.

Aaron’s expression remained serious. “All of them.”

Shit. “Even Frozen? Tangled? The Princess Frog?” I asked, and he nodded.

“I love animated movies. They take my mind off things.” He dipped his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Disney, Pixar … I’m a big fan.”

This was too much. First, he’d opened up about his childhood earlier today, and now, this. I wanted to ask how and why, but there was a more pressing issue. “What’s your favorite?”

Please don’t say the one that will send my heart into cardiac arrest. Please don’t say it.

“Up.”

Fuck. He had said it. My heart struggled there for a moment. And that little spot that had been softening throughout the night got a little bigger.

“Oh.” The word breathily left my lips. It was all I managed.

My eyes closed, and my fingers resumed massaging my temples. Although maybe I should have been massaging my chest.

“That bad, huh?” He seemed to be gauging something when I looked back at him. My sobriety most likely.

“Don’t worry.” I waved my hand. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk by now. I promise I won’t puke all over you tonight.”

That didn’t earn me much of an answer, making me cringe over my choice of words.

Without further comment, Aaron disappeared in the tiny en suite bathroom, leaving me to deal with my awkwardness and thoughts.

Which mainly centered around Aaron—watching animation movies in the privacy of his home, particularly Up and perhaps finding a kindred spirit in Carl—and the damn bed again.

I stood up slowly.

My gaze followed the geometric pattern that crisscrossed the comforter, all the way to where the pillows lay. Our heads will be there, only a few inches apart. Everything I was feeling was slowly replaced by a weird mix of anticipation and something … new.

I needed to keep my cool. It was just a bed. We were two adults who could sleep next to each other. We were … friends now? No, I didn’t think we were. But we were not just colleagues either. Even forgetting about the fact that he’d soon be my boss, I didn’t think we only qualified as two people who worked together, argued on a regular basis, and struggled to tolerate each other for more than ten minutes. Our deal—this love deception game we were playing—had pushed us out of that meticulously labeled area we had been in. Shoved us right into a completely new and uncharted territory. And now, we were more than whatever we had been. We were …

We were about to share a bed. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

That, and the fact that I needed to stop overthinking it. What I needed to be was … unaffected. Yeah. If we were going to share a bed, I needed to stop behaving like it was a big deal. Even if it was. Because it motherfreaking was. Aaron had been showing me just how much with his soft but unwinding touches and these little pieces of himself that were just as provoking.

What had Rosie told me once?

“Set your goal free into the universe. Visualize it.”

That was exactly what I needed to do.

So, I visualized myself as impassive. Unconcerned. Unimpressed. I was a block of ice in the middle of a blizzard. I’d stand solidly. Immovable and cold and calm.

Yeah.

Walking to the closet with that on mind, I pulled out my pajamas, which consisted of shorts and an old T-shirt with Science Rocks in bold yellow letters. A part of me regretted not putting more thought into it now that the room arrangement situation had changed. Another much smaller part thought that Aaron would appreciate the message in the shirt. That maybe he would give me one of those lopsided smirks that—

No. Those were not thoughts a block of ice would have.

Aaron walked out of the bathroom in silence, still dressed in his button-down, which now had two new undone buttons—which, I reminded myself, did not affect me—and headed directly to his side of the closet. Returning the silence, I slipped in the bathroom, so I could change and wash up.

Once done with that and clad in my jammies, I filled my lungs with a deep and hopefully energizing breath and returned to the bedroom.

I didn’t know what I had expected to find, but I was surely not prepared for the sight of Aaron in only a pair of sleeping pants. They hung low on his hips—so low that I could see the waistband of his underwear—and they were a dark shade of gray that complemented his skin.

My gaze trailed up, and there it was. That glorious chest that I had witnessed shining under the sun with droplets of sweat that—

Jesus, no, no, no.

I needed to stop gawking. Eating him with my eyes as if I had never seen a naked chest before. It couldn’t be healthy. Good for my mental health.

Turning away from him a little too briskly, I fumbled with my discarded clothes. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him slip on a short-sleeved shirt.

Good. That was definitely good. Cover those chiseled pecs and abs, stupidly flawless man who loves Up.

I opened the drawer of the narrow dresser and stared into it. Realizing I didn’t need anything from there, I closed it again. I threw open one of the wardrobe doors and realized the same damn thing. Cursing under my breath at my evident show of stupidity, I sensed Aaron move behind me.

My hands twisted the clothes I was holding into a ball.

A soft brush on the back of my arm derailed my inner pep talk, immediately lighting on fire my attempts to convince myself I was cool and unaffected.

“What’s wrong?” He skimmed those fingers up and down the back of my arm. “You are fidgeting.”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m okay,” I lied, and I heard my own voice shake. “I’m … cool.”

I so wasn’t.

Aaron flickered his fingers one last time across my skin as I remained with my back to him. It felt like he was waiting for something, and when the silence that followed my comment stretched, he sighed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

His voice had sounded all wrong, so I finally turned to face him. He was walking away, so I reached for his arm, wrapping my slender fingers around his wrist. I could feel his pulse against my skin.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “I told you, you don’t have to. We will sleep on the bed. Both of us.” I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” And that wasn’t a complete lie. I knew that Aaron would gladly sleep with half his body hanging off that bed if I so much as looked slightly uncomfortable. Hell, he’d sleep on the floor if I let him. “I’m just …” I shook my head, not knowing how to finish that statement. Not daring to.

It’s not you in bed with me that I’m scared of, I wanted to tell him. It’s me and everything that’s going on inside my head and that stupid organ in the center of my chest—that’s what I’m scared of. It’s me and what I could possibly let myself do, what I’m terrified of. It’s this whole charade we have been executing that is messing with everything I thought I knew.

It hadn’t even been a day since we had landed in Spain, and I felt like everything between Aaron and me had changed more in twenty hours than it ever had in almost two years.

How could that be possible?

“Tell me what’s going on inside your head; you can trust me.” He lifted his free hand and cupped my face in his palm. “Let me show you that you can trust me.”

Oh God, I wanted to let him do that. Badly.

But it felt like jumping off a cliff. Bold. Too reckless. It petrified me.

Meeting his gaze, I realized I could drown in the blue of his eyes if I allowed myself to. Which only fueled my fear. Long gone was that block of ice I had preached about a handful of minutes ago. That simple gesture—his warm hand cupping my cheek—melted me to the ground. Dissolved me into nothing more than water. He had that power over me.

“I don’t know how.” I leaned my face into his palm. Just for a heartbeat. That was all I allowed myself.

Then, Aaron’s touch was gone, and the forgotten clothes that I still held under one arm were snagged out of my grip. He placed them somewhere else. The floor, the dresser, the bed—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Not when a very particular emotion had solidified in his gaze. Determination.

Deep in my gut, I knew he was going to show me that I could trust him. That perhaps I could jump, and it would be okay. That maybe he wouldn’t let me drown like I felt I would.

Something settled in the air around us. Something thick and sultry changed the atmosphere in the small room.

“Close your eyes,” he requested. Although it hadn’t been a question. Not really.

It didn’t matter because my eyelids fell immediately shut.

For the first time in my life, I did exactly as Aaron had said without putting up a fight. Not a single bone in my body was willing to do anything else but follow his directions. Letting him show me whatever he was after.

Taking the weight of answering his question off my hands.

Eyes closed, I felt him stepping closer, his proximity like a warm blanket I wanted to wrap myself in.

With each lingering moment that passed, where I waited, every other sense gradually heightened. I could hear my heavy breathing, feel my chest heaving up and down, sense the way my blood was being pumped through my body, reaching my temples with growing intensity. I could feel the warmth radiating off Aaron’s large body in waves that seemed to be in perfect sync with my heartbeat.