Текст книги "Hate Me"
Автор книги: Jillian Dodd
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
I have no idea what he's going to do next, but I love the way his now-naked chest is pressing hard against my back, holding me in place.
“Oh my god,” I breathe out, surprised as his finger dives into me.
I’m torn between silently whimpering and screaming out loud.
My breath is ragged and my heart is beating wildly as he continues the assault.
It feels so good, I want to cry.
I push back against him, willing his fingers to do it faster, harder, to never stop. My hips move in a rhythm completely controlled by him.
Until I moan out, “Oh,” and then my Ohs come faster as he pushes me to places I've never been before.
My body goes limp on the kitchen counter.
He kisses my shoulder sweetly. “We doing okay?”
“We’re doing fine. Just don’t ask me to stand up. I’ll just lean on the counter here for a bit.”
He gives my shoulder a little nip, laughs, then picks me up and carries me to bed, where he lies on his side next to me.
I throw myself against his hard body, my lips landing on his, kissing him, thanking him, and maybe even asking for more.
Aiden must know intuitively what I want—possibly that is another benefit of being with a god.
His hand finds its way between my legs again. “More?” he asks.
I don't reply.
I just kiss him and kiss him while he makes me feel amazing again.
And again.
Something up his sleeve.
9pm
I must've fallen asleep.
I’m blinking, trying to focus, when something catches my eye. It’s that damn glow-in-the-dark moon.
I want to be mad at the moon, rip it off my ceiling and throw it in the trash.
But I can’t.
It looks perfect where it is.
I look down at myself. I’m wearing nothing but a cashmere throw and my boots.
I’m wondering where Aiden is when my nose perks up at a wonderful aroma. I wrap the throw around me, wander out to the kitchen, and find him surrounded by a mess of pots and pans.
He looks adorable.
All I want to do is curl up in this moment and never come out. It's moments like this one that give me the strength to keep doing what I'm doing.
I know that Vincent's going to find me eventually.
We can keep the initial filming under wraps, but once they start the big action scenes in March, I’ll be easy to find. And once I announce that I've taken over his company and scrapped the movie, he’ll hate me even more.
But not until I’ve taken away everything he loves—then and only then—will we be on a level playing field.
Me against him.
“Whatever you're doing out here smells amazing,” I say to Aiden.
“I thought I'd cook dinner, since you were conked out.”
“Sorry,” I say, even though I'm totally not.
He wipes his hands on a towel, pulls my cashmere throw open, and smiles. “Naked and wearing cowboy boots. That is straight out of my dreams.” He pulls me into a hot kiss that tastes of red sauce.
“What did you make?”
“Chicken Parmesan. Salad. Cheese bread. Want some wine?”
“I’d love some.” I love you, I want to say, but a softly playing song catches my attention and stirs up a childhood memory. “Hey, that song. Can you play it again?”
“Sure,” he says, hitting repeat on his phone.
I listen to the lyrics. A man is saying that he should have been a cowboy.
I can see it in my head.
Daddy and me in the barn at Grandpa’s ranch. We’re brushing his horse after a long ride when this song comes on the radio. Dad is singing it to me and Grandpa is laughing. Daddy picks me up and twirls me around, still singing.
“Earth to Keatyn,” Aiden says, startling me and making me realize he’s now standing directly in front of me.
“Oh, sorry. I was kind of stuck in a memory. My dad used to like that song,” I say, smiling as the singer continues to croon.
I close my eyes again and savor it.
Aiden pushes my chin up, so I open my eyes. “Tell me.”
“Every summer, I go to my grandparents’ ranch in Texas. When I was little, my dad went with me. This song, I remember him singing it in the barn. Us dancing. Him telling me he loved me and would miss me on his trip. It was . . . um . . .” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “It was the trip. The one where his plane went down . . .”
Aiden caresses my face. “What did your dad do?”
“He was a mod—,” I say without thinking. “A, um, moderator. He worked for my grandpa.”
“Oil and gas? Like your mom?”
Shit. I can’t remember what I told him my mom does. What if that’s not what I said? Shit. Shit. Shit.
But why would he say that unless it’s what I told him?
Then I remember telling him about possible oil in the Ukraine.
I take in a deep breath and change the subject. “Wow. That smell is killing me. Can we eat soon?”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay to just tell me.” He smiles sweetly and kisses me. “And, yes, we can eat now.”
During dinner, he toasts. “To your amazing day. Winning first place in your small group dance. A team third place. And your first successful screen test.”
“And to a fun weekend,” I add, winking.
“I’ll toast to that.” We clink glasses and sip our wine.
After a cozy dinner at my kitchen island, he says, “Let’s go upstairs. We can watch a movie or something.”
There’s a little smile playing on his lips and his eyes look sneaky. Kinda like they did the day of my speech when he gave me the glass clover for luck.
He holds my hand as we walk through the living room and then gestures for me to walk up the stairs first.
He’s totally got something up his sleeve.
But when I get to the top of the stairs, I can barely believe my eyes.
In the corner, all lit up, is a gorgeous Christmas tree strung with the prettiest pastel garland and topped with a silver star.
Tears immediately spring to my eyes as I stare at it. The Christmas decorations have been up in our dorm for a few weeks, and Katie and I strung some lights around our window, but it’s just not the same.
This makes my loft look and feel even more like home.
“It’s beautiful.” I turn around and throw myself into his arms.
He hugs me, kisses the top of my head, and says, “I thought we could decorate it together.”
“Did you get ornaments too?”
He untangles himself from my arms, goes behind the tree, and sets shopping bags down next to the coffee table. “You have to open each one. They all kind of have meaning.”
“Really? What kind of meaning?”
“You’ll see. Open them.”
I sit on the couch next to him and open the first box. It’s a beautiful, brightly-colored blown-glass fish. “It’s so pretty!”
“What do you think it means? For us?”
I think about it. “Um, we ate fish in St. Croix.”
“True. Think some more. When did we see pretty fish?”
“When we went snorkeling!”
“And what happened when we went snorkeling?”
“Your back got sunburned?”
“And how did you try to help me with that?”
I laugh and grin. “So, you’re telling me that this fish reminds you of the shower?”
“Yep,” he says with a naughty little smirk. “That was fun.”
“I’m still kicking myself for giving you that washcloth to cover up with.” I lean over and give him a kiss. “I think you should put this one on the tree.”
I open another box and find a glass Ferris wheel. “Aiden, are all of these going to make me cry?”
He puts his ornament on the tree, then kisses me. “They’re supposed to make you happy.”
“I’m crying because I am happy. And because, seriously, this might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He gives me another kiss. Like our first kiss on the Ferris wheel. Perfectly amazing.
I walk over and put the Ferris wheel high up on the tree, just like we were when he kissed me at the top of it. Then I excitedly open another one. This one is an adorable piece of chocolate cake. “The peace offering?”
He nods.
“That cake was really good. And I like peace with you better than fighting.”
He gives me a steamier kiss this time, but I push him away after a few minutes. “I have a lot more ornaments to see! You need to stop kissing me.”
Of course, what does he do?
Gives me about ten more kisses.
I open a Santa, a nutcracker, and a nativity scene, which he tells me are just because it’s Christmas and every tree needs them. Then I open a Santa taking a bubble bath, the bubbles a pearly pink glass.
“Hmm. Let me guess. Our bubble bath. The one where you wore your swimsuit?”
He laughs. “Maybe after this, we’ll take a bubble bath without swimsuits.”
“I’m done opening ornaments for tonight,” I tease, putting this one on the tree.
“You’re bad,” he says, swatting me on the butt.
Which was probably the wrong thing for him to do, because it inspires me to jump on him, knocking him flat on the couch, and attack his face with sloppy kisses.
“Oh, ick,” he laughs. “This is going to take all night at the rate you’re going. No bubbles until the tree is decorated.”
“Fine,” I pout.
“How does that song go? You better not cry, better not pout?”
“Speaking of that, we need Christmas music playing.”
He takes a sip of his wine and then says, “You’re right. And we should turn on the fireplace.”
I jump up and down a little. “Yes. You do the fire. I’ll turn on the music.”
“Much better,” he says, pulling me onto his lap when we’ve both made it a little more Christmas-y in here. “What do you want for Christmas?”
“You,” I reply.
He gets a little twinkle in his eye. “Are you offering sex to Santa?”
“I have been kinda naughty.”
“Well, maybe if you’re a good little girl, you’ll get what you want.”
“I lied. I’m always good.”
He shakes his head at me. “Santa doesn’t like it when people lie.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking about the boatload of lies I’ve told this year.
He hands me another box. “Open some more, then we’ll put them on the tree. Otherwise we’ll never get to that bath.”
I stay on his lap and open a Santa in a sleigh, a Santa in New York City—since that’s where we are now—and a Santa that’s surfing—since I taught Aiden how. The next one is Santa driving an ice-cream truck with a big cone on top of it. “When we went for ice-cream? I’m surprised that’s something you want to remember, seeing as you got all pissed off at me.”
“All I remember is the sexy way you were licking the cone. Got me all hot.”
Then I open one of an adorable pink purse with little peace signs and hearts on it.
“I fucking love you. That’s what you told me when I gave you the purple purse,” he says.
“I was excited.”
“I know you love me.”
“I know you love me.”
“Still not ready to confess your love?” he teases.
“Apparently, neither are you.”
Next, I open a trio of colorful cowboy boots.
“Those might be my favorite, Boots.”
“I love them. Although when you gave me that nickname, I thought it was kinda dumb.”
“Dumb? I’m shocked. It was very original.”
“It’s still the name of the monkey on Dora the Explorer. I didn’t want to be a monkey. But now I like it. I like that it has meaning to both of us.”
He grins and hands me another box.
I look at the name of it. “The Sugar Shack?”
“Just open it.”
In the box is an adorable little gingerbread house covered with candy. “Hansel and Gretel got eaten there.”
“That’s supposed to be our mansion of love. Don’t make fun of it,” he says seriously.
“Oh. Well, then it’s adorable.”
The next one is The Three Little Pigs. “You’re on a roll. First Hansel and Gretel and now pork for dinner.”
“You’re silly. You know what it means.”
I get serious again. “It’s for a strong foundation.”
“Very good.”
I grab another box and find a sand castle—my castle on the beach—a Little Mermaid, and a Frog Prince.
“Oh, the Frog Prince is so cute.”
“I remember Damian said you used to make him be a frog.”
I hug him. Again.
Next, I open a Nutcracker prince.
“That was always my sister’s favorite ballet. I thought maybe since you dance, you’d like it too.”
“I love it. This will be the first Christmas that I won’t get to see it.”
He gives me his nearly-blinding happy smile.
“What?”
He tilts his head in the most adorable, aw-shucks way and pulls two tickets out of his wallet. “I got us tickets for Sunday afternoon.”
Which makes me start crying.
He wraps his arms around me. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I haven’t bought any presents.”
“But we’re shopping tomorrow, all day.”
“I just feel bad that I haven’t gotten you anything yet. And you did all this. All the thought you put into it.”
“Boots, my mom and I went shopping when you weren’t dancing. I got a bunch of clothes for my birthday and when we were walking out, I saw the huge holiday section and decided to buy you some ornaments. Then my mom asked if you had a tree. So I bought one of the fake ones. It came with the lights on it. All I had to do was put three pieces together, plug it in, and put on the garland.”
“But these ornaments. They all have meaning.”
“They had a large selection. Seriously, I was like I want this one, and this one, and this one. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“It’s still amazing, Aiden.”
He kisses me then murmurs, “I’m glad you like it. That’s all I want. To make you happy. Come on, open the rest. And don’t feel guilty. This is our tree. The story of us. And I have an ulterior motive. I want to be so far in your life that, come August, you’ll never consider anyone but me.”
It’s much safer to open another ornament than to discuss that, mostly because I don’t even know if I’ll still be alive in August.
“Awwww! Look at this snowman! His little stick arms are full of shopping bags! That’s adorable!”
“I like shopping with you. So, are you going to wear the gorgeous dress I found last time we went shopping to Winter Formal?”
“Yeah, I am. And I found the perfect shoes to go with it.”
“I can’t wait to see you in it.”
I can’t wait for you to get me out of it, I think.
The next boxes I open are a cupcake with a clover on top, a mermaid Santa, and a seashell. “So the cupcake is just for the clover?”
“Uh huh.”
“And the mermaid—well, I guess technically he’s a merman—and seashells. Do those have to do with our wishes?” I touch the shell bracelet still tightly fastened to his wrist. “Are you ever going to tell me what you wished for?”
“Not until it comes true.”
“Hmm. Okay. What’s next?”
He hands me another box, this one containing a cotton candy machine. “Is this for the same reason as the Ferris wheel? Except we didn’t eat cotton candy together.”
“No, I dragged you away from Riley when he was licking cotton candy off your hand. So, no. It’s because your hair always smells like cotton candy.” He leans in and kisses my temple. “You always smell good enough to eat.”
I close my eyes tightly, willing away the heat I can instantly feel rising between my legs. I purse my lips and smile at him.
“You have a dirty mind. I like it,” he whispers in my ear in the low, husky voice that makes me melt.
“Well, maybe, a little.”
I open another ornament, this one a chapel. I think about how I spilled my guts to him. How he stopped during the game and asked me if I was okay. How sad it was when I planned on leaving him. I feel choked up again.
He says, “It reminds me of the chapel at school. Of our spot. Where I promised not to pretend punch your head.”
“It reminds me of how nice you could be even when I hated you.”
“You never hated me.”
“No, but I thought you hated me, so I told myself I hated you.”
“We had a rocky start, huh?”
“Yeah, we did. Damn Logan.”
“Would it have changed things?”
“Yeah, we’d probably have dated and then broken up by now. So everything was probably for the best.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. I’ve changed a lot since we first met.”
“You’re stronger.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, you’ve been through a lot. Coming to Eastbrooke at the last minute. The stuff that went on with your friend. Your boyfriend leaving you for a year. All the stuff with Dawson. With Whitney. With Chelsea. With me. You’re good at hiding it, though. I think Riley and I are the only ones you let in. Besides Damian.”
“Yeah. So, next bag. This is the last one.”
“And these are some of my favorites.”
The first one I open is a red bag with two baguettes sticking out of the top. “What’s this one for?”
“French class. Tutoring with food. Our tutoring field trip. The dances in my room when we should have been studying. French body parts.”
“I love it.” I open the next one. A Santa dressed in pink with the cancer symbol. “For your mom?”
“Yeah. It made her really happy when I won Mr. Eastbrooke. And that’s all because of you. I’ve grown this year too. At least, that’s what my mom tells me.”
“Well, we know you’ve gotten taller. That’s why you had to shop.”
“I don’t mean that kind of growth. I mean not sleeping around. Waiting for the right girl. Knowing you’re worth every ounce of frustration. Knowing that—well, open another one.”
“Um, okay.” This one is a street sign that says Sunset Blvd. “Dual meaning? Our sunsets and the fact that California is where we’re both from?”
“That you watch sunsets with me. That I even had the guts to tell you why they were special. I’ve never shared those parts of me with anyone. No one at school even knows my mom had cancer.”
“I’m glad you shared those things with me. And we saw the green flash together.”
“Close your eyes,” he says. “I want you to see these together.” I close my eyes and listen to him unwrap ornaments. “Okay, open.”
Lying on the table in front of me is a soccer ball, a four-leaf clover, an Eiffel Tower, and two dolphins jumping out of the water. I don’t want to be a big baby and start crying again, so I joke, “Hmm. I’m not sure what any of those mean.”
He kisses me deeply then says, “Fine. I’ll tell you. These are all about luck and fate. It was fate you kicked the soccer ball at my head and made me instantly fall for you. It’s fate that I’ll ask you to marry me someday. But it was luck that I found a four-leaf clover to give you, and every time we’ve given each other a clover, it’s helped us both be lucky. And it was luck that we got to see the dolphins. You’ve made me lucky.”
“You helped me make dance team. Gave me the glass clover before my speech. And drew one on my leg for the play. You’ve been sharing the luck.”
“So which one are we? Luck or fate?”
“I guess only time will tell, huh?”
He nods. “Yeah, it will. So, only a few more. This one is about me.”
He pulls a Santa out of its box. This Santa isn’t holding a bag of presents, he’s holding a glass of wine and standing behind of a wine barrel with grapes on it.
“Your dream of owning a vineyard. That one I know.”
“How about this one?” he says, taking another ornament out. This one is an adorable yellow Labrador retriever puppy.
“You want this kind of dog someday?”
“Yep. You cool with that?”
“Yeah, I love dogs.”
“Perfect. Last one. Hold out your hands.”
I do what he asks and close my eyes. I’m sure he saved the best for last. He puts it gently in my cradled palms.
I open my eyes and see a flat scene of a sandy beach, a palm tree, the ocean, and the bright sun. “St. Croix?”
“Damian asked our family to celebrate Christmas with his family there. I wasn’t sure what your plans are, but I’d like to spend the holiday with you.”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I need to talk to my mom about it.”
“I know. I just thought . . . I know they’ve been there before. Maybe your family could go too? I’d love to meet them.”
“I’d love for you to meet them, too. Aiden, I . . .”
I almost say it. Almost blurt out the truth. I want to tell him what happened. What’s going to happen. But I don’t. I don’t want to ruin this perfect day. I don’t want him to walk out on me.
It’s so selfish, I know. But there’s another big reason I can’t tell him.
He’d want to help, and I couldn’t take another photo of someone I love with the back of their head blown off.
“ . . . I, um, thank you for the tree. You have no idea how much this all means to me.”
“I’m glad. Let’s finish decorating.”
After we’ve decorated, we turn off all the lights except for the ones illuminating the tree and snuggle on the couch, staring at its beauty.
“Time for our bubble bath,” Aiden says about a half hour later.
I run the water, loading it up with bubbles, while Aiden goes to refill our wine glasses. He comes back in with a silver ice bucket and champagne instead.
I squint my eyes at him questioningly.
“Gotta have bubbly for the bubbles, right? I just corked the rest of the wine. We’ll have it tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, but if we’re gonna have champagne . . .”
“Wait, don’t finish that sentence.” He runs out of the bathroom and comes back with a little plate of chocolate truffles.
“It’s official. I do fucking love you,” I say.
“I fucking love you too. Now, let’s get naked.”