Текст книги "Love Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

I can already tell that this long gown is not going to work well for serious dancing. But it does have a long slit up the front. Maybe I could . . .

I speak loudly over the music. “Let me fix my dress.”

“Your dress is perfect,” he yells back. “You look gorgeous.”

“Well, now I wanna look hot. So back off for a second.”

He smiles at me, holds his hands up, and backs away. Just a little.

I reach down, grab each side of the hem, slowly scrunch the layers up, and then tie it into place at mid thigh.

I raise my eyebrows at Aiden to see what he thinks. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer. “Mission accomplished.”

We dance forever.

Sometimes fast, laughing, and making a spectacle of ourselves. Other times, slow and mellow. Always, his leg is between mine, radiating energy up my thighs.

Just his hands all over me and his leg between mine turn me on in ways no one else has. What is it about this boy? Why does he feel like my other half? How does he anticipate my moves before I know them myself?

The music is blaring. The crowd is hot and sweaty. Aiden pulls me closer and sways slowly with me. And his delicious lips find my neck.

I hold my arms up in the air and sway to the music while he bites me.

Teeny little adorably hot bites.

Somehow in between the bites, I feel his tongue on my neck too. I’m not even sure. I’m pretty sure he is a vampire.

But a special one.

One that doesn’t suck my blood with each bite. One that injects love potion or some sort of ecstasy type drug into my skin.

Apparently this is like the date in the play. The amazing, never-ending date.

After the club, we go out for breakfast at a total dive. I find out that he loves chicken and waffles, something I have never considered pairing together, and is a Southern thing.

And, I have to admit, damn good.

It’s nearly four in the morning by the time we get back to my loft.

“Bath or hot tub?” he asks me.

My mind races. Trying to script out scenarios. But it’s on overload and all that I can process is bathtub = naked. Hot tub = swimsuits.

“Bath tub?”

“That sounds nice. All that dancing, it will be nice for you to relax.”

“Me to relax? As in you’re not joining me?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Why did you choose a bath? Because you were hoping for nakedness?”

“Oh, uh, no. Of course not. I just, thought, I mean, we talked about a bath. I have bubbles.”

Ohmigawd. Am I ten? I have bubbles?

He gives me a sexy grin. “I like bubbles. Should we finish the champagne in there too?”

“Uh, yeah. Um, you do that and I’ll, um, be in my closet.”

I walk in my closet and jump up and down. I was starting to get tired, but now my body is racing with energy and adrenaline. I want to run through the house singing, I’m going to have sex with the hottie god. I’m going to have sex . . . Shit. I’m going to have sex with him? Do I want to?

I hear him walk back into the bathroom. I peek out the closet door and see that he has the bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two flutes. He sets it all on the floor next to tub and starts the water. Then he starts opening cabinets. He pokes around, pulls out two fluffy white towels and a bottle of bubble bath, and dumps a bunch in.

He’s also wearing a swimsuit.

I quickly pull off my dress, hang it up, slip on my cashmere robe, and saunter out.

He immediately pulls me into his arms, kisses me, and slides his hand inside my robe.

Straight on top of my naked boob.

“Oh!” he says, quickly pulling his hand out from under my robe, like my skin just burned it. “I didn’t know . . .”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t sure what the plan was.”

“The plan? Tonight is about not making plans.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll, uh, go put on a, uh, swimsuit.”

I run back into my closet, throw on a bikini, and hurry back to the bathtub before he changes his mind.

“Why don’t you get in first?” I tell Aiden. While I was changing, he dragged my bedside table into the bathroom and has the champagne within easy reach.

“This is hot,” he says, slowly lowering his sexy body into my tub.

I’m not sure how to get in. I want to sit on top of him. Straddle him. Make him want me.

But he turns me around and says, “Lean back and relax.”

Not only do we fit together when we’re dancing, but my back nestles perfectly into his chest.

“I'm never taking a bath by myself again.”

“Why's that?”

“Because your chest is warm and soft. The back of the tub is cold and hard.”

He cups a handful of bubbles and places then on my chest, making what looks like a huge towering penis.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think I'm trying to create the Empire State Building out of bubbles, you'd be right.”

“Oh,” I giggle.

He kisses my neck. “You have a dirty mind.”

“Maybe,” I laugh. “Can I rub it? Will bubbles come out?’

“You’re bad,” he says, kissing my neck some more. “It's cute.”

“It is?”

“Yes,” he replies, handing me a flute.

“Are we still drinking to rainy days?”

“Hmm, no. Now, we’re drinking to ice.”

He clinks my glass and we both sip champagne.

“Ice?” I ask.

He reaches his arm out of the tub, setting down his glass and grabbing a piece of ice. He shows me the ice and then pops it in his mouth. I assume he eats it, but instead I feel the ice between his lips, gliding purposefully down my neck. The ice melts quickly—probably because my body is on freaking fire—so he replaces it with another piece. This piece stays in his hand as he runs the point of the ice like he did the feather. Slowly– excruciatingly slowly—down into my cleavage. Then across my stomach. I take my legs out of the water, bending them at the knee and bracing them on the side of the tub.

And praying the piece of ice will find its way down a little further.

“I’ve died and gone to hottie heaven,” I whisper.

“What kind of heaven?”

“Oh, uh, I don't know,” I say, pressing my back into him and shamelessly raising my hips toward the ice. Toward his big fingers. I let out a little moan and arch my back as his lips find mine.

I roll myself over and lie on top of him. Which is not very comfortable, so I quickly sit up and straddle him. I can feel that he's hard. And I'm . . . I'd say I'm practically dry humping him, except we're wet. I'm wet humping him. Rubbing myself against him. Totally worked up. I reach down to untie his shorts. I have to have them off.

“Boots,” he says. “We can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” I say, grabbing the string again. “I have condoms if you don’t.”

He grips my hand tightly. “Maybe I gave you the wrong idea. We're not having sex this weekend. Remember, you said that you wanted to wait.”

“That was before you rubbed ice down my legs.”

I place my lips hard on his, giving him a fiery kiss. Grabbing his tongue with mine. Sucking on it. Raking my hands roughly through his hair. And rocking my hips.

He grabs my hips, stopping their motion. “Okay. Bath time is over.”

I immediately bite the side of my lip. Trying not to make an obvious pout.

He kisses my lower lip, then my forehead. “Have you had a fun night?”

“Yes.”

“Isn't that what matters?”

“Yeah, it's just I wanna skip to the good part.”

He looks me in the eyes, speaking directly to my soul. “This is the good part, Boots.” He edges himself out of the tub. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and rinse off all these bubbles.”

“I’ll stay here and pout.”

He smirks at me and hands me the bottle of champagne.

I’m ready to take a big swig, but then I realize that he's in my shower. That water is running all over that heavenly body of his.

So I watch.

Watch and chug.

Chug and watch.

Imagine my fingers are the water.

Aiden gets out and wraps a towel around his swimsuit.

I’m not sure if he thought getting out of the tub and showering would help me cool off. Quench the flames of desire.

Um, no.

He’s wet. Glistening. Water droplets running down his chest.

I take another chug of champagne as he slides his shorts off and lays them on the counter to dry.

“You're naked in my towel,” I blurt out.

He grins at me, glances at his phone, and says, “Wanna go watch the sunrise?”

Sunrises have always been B's and my thing. I suddenly feel guilty. Guilty I told B I'd give him another chance. Guilty I'm here with Aiden. Guilty that I’m a liar.

“I’m really tired. Aren't you?”

“I could probably sleep.” He kisses me full on the lips and says, “Goodnight then.”

“Aiden, wait.”

I may be feeling guilty, but the guilt comes wrapped in a loneliness that is almost unbearable.

Especially after the trip to Vancouver when I realized that Mom hasn’t called me even once. And now I understand why. I’ve become the threat too.

And while Vincent is still out there, I can’t see them again.

Aiden grabs the edge of my doorway and turns around. Damp and still wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel.

“I, uh, have a big bed.”

He laughs. “There's a big bed in my room too.”

“I don't . . . I’m fine if we don't, but I . . .” Why can't I speak a coherent sentence?

“Do you want me to sleep in here, with you?”

I shut my mouth and nod, thankful for once that he could read my mind.

“I’ll go grab some dry shorts.”

I run in my closet, strip off my wet bikini, and put on some sleep shorts and a cashmere pullover. I stop for a second and look in the mirror.

Ohmigawd. No wonder he didn't want to have sex with me. I look like the zombie apocalypse. How did my mascara end up all under my eyes?

I quickly put some oil on a cotton ball to rub it off. And my hair is a mess. Half wet, half up, half down.

I pull the pins out of it. Attempt to brush through the wet mess, give up, twirling it back into another bun. Then I brush my teeth.

I am so not having sex with Aiden tonight. Not even if he wants. I have to look beautiful and glamorous and draped in silk when we do it. My mind flits back to being kissed on his desk.

Or that would work.

I rub some rose scented lip balm across my lips and open the door.

Aiden is lying on my bed. I was wrong when I said it looked like my loft was designed for him.

My bed was designed for him.

He's shirtless, wearing white athletic shorts, and his hair looks like he dried it with a towel and didn't give it a second thought.

I bound onto the bed, grab a pillow, and smack him upside the head.

“Oh, really?” he says, holding onto my pillow as he grabs another one and hits me with it.

I'm laughing as I roll out of his grip and swing the pillow at him again. He ducks his head so it bounces off his shoulder as he grabs the pillow out of my hand and tosses it off the bed. Then he grabs my waist and flips me over so he’s lying on top of me. I reach out to tickle his sides, but he grabs both arms and holds them down above my head.

“Damn,” I say with a smirk. “Now, I'm trapped. Whatever will I do?”

“I thought you were tired.”

“I was. I am. You look good in my bed.”

He lowers his lips to my neck and says, “You look good pinned underneath me. I'm gonna let you up now. Behave.”

I nod, agreeing, but the second I get loose, I leap off the bed, grab my pillow off the floor, swing it at him, and then go running out of the room. I'm making a run for the loft when a pillow smacks my back. I turn around and swing the pillow wildly.

Sadly, I don't connect as many times as he does, so I throw my pillow at his face, tear up the stairs, and dive onto my big sectional couch.

Aiden has both pillows in his hands when he gets to the top of the stairs. “Give up?”

“Actually, yeah. I think that was my last burst of energy.”

He puts both pillows on the couch, scoops me up, then lies down with me in his arms. I snuggle my face into his chest, breathe in the heavenly scent that is Aiden, and close my eyes.

Saturday, November 12th

Take me shopping.

9am

I open one eye, wondering where I am. There's a heavy arm draped over my shoulder. Aiden is asleep, so I take a moment to study his perfect face. The sexy stubble on his strong jaw. His perfect nose. The pale pink of his beautiful lips. And that freaking mouth.

I close my eyes and dream about that mouth.

I wake up later to Aiden gently caressing my face. I pretend to be asleep a little while longer because it feels so good. I’m still wrapped in his arms and the side of my face is plastered to his chest.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, kissing my shoulder.

“That is the best way ever to be woken up. I feel like an attention whore.”

“Why's that?”

“You're always taking care of me. Doing stuff for me.”

“I have something you can do for me today.”

“What?”

“Take me shopping. I’ve grown out of pretty much everything from last year. My mom went with me before school started and I got a couple suits and uniforms, but that’s about it.”

“I can help you with that. We’ll go everywhere. Rag & Bone, Neiman, Saks, Bendel, Vuitton, Lauren, Burberry, and Barneys.”

“Perfect. I’ll get us a car for the day.”

By late afternoon he says, “You're a little too good of a shopper. I'm tired, broke, and starving.”

“We better feed you, then, and I know just the place.”

I take him to Serendipity 3, mostly because of their desserts. And I’m feeling decadent.

“Now I need a nap,” he says, patting his tight stomach. Figures. He can eat the fried chicken dinner, the chocolate blackout cake, three-fourths of my sundae and still look hot. I had a grilled chicken sandwich, some fruit, a fourth of the sundae, and I’m totally bloated. I suck my stomach in and suggest a carriage ride through Central Park.

I’m pretty sure that Aiden didn’t see much of Central Park. I’m not even sure where we were. I just know he kept kissing me.

When the carriage comes to a halt back where we started and we get into our town car, I say, “You want to smoke a cigarette on the steps of the Met, like they do in the Gossip Girl books?”

He looks at me kinda funny. “I don’t smoke.”

“I don’t either, but I would. Like there. Just to say I did.”

“I was thinking that you didn’t get to do any shopping. If there’s one store you could go back to, where would it be?”

“Barneys.”

“Shoes or bags?”

“Well, handbags are on the first floor. Maybe we should start there and work our way up?”

He holds my hand as I stand in front of what is my purse Mecca. A rainbow of Proenza Schouler handbags in beautiful colors.

“You have a lot of these bags, don't you?”

“Yeah, I'm kinda obsessed. I love all the colors. Their classic style.”

“You don't have that purple one, do you?”

“No, not yet. But let’s go upstairs and check out the clothes.”

“What about shoes?”

“Um, I have enough shoes,” I say, with very little conviction.

Aiden looks at me funny. Obviously, he knows I love shoes. “Okay, well, clothes it is, then.”

We go upstairs and I have fun trying on clothes for Aiden. And it works out really well because I barely leave the dressing room. He keeps bringing me more to try on. Maybe I could send him down for shoes.

“I found three more dresses for you to try on,” he says from outside the door.

I open the door and show him the cute dress I just tried on. The dress that is screaming and throwing a temper tantrum at me for new boots to go with it.

“That’s cute,” he says. “What do you think of these?” He holds up three gorgeous gowns.

“I guess I do need another rainy day dress,” I tease.

“That or a dress for Winter Formal.”

“I like getting dressed up,” I say, grabbing the gowns to try on.

He shakes his head and grins at me. “While you do that, I’m gonna run down to the men’s department and get that wallet I saw earlier.”

“Okay,” I say happily.

When he comes back up, I’m dressed and paying. He grabs all my bags and carries them for me.

“So what do you want to do next?” he asks, as we slides into the car.

“I’d love to go home. Relax. Maybe have a movie marathon? Or watch some football?”

He kisses me in response and then tells the driver to take us back home.

I take my bags into my closet and decide what I want to take to school and what I want to leave here. Then I throw on a comfy pair of stretchy Free People tie-dyed jeans, an oversized cream sweater, and some cream cabled mule slippers.

I find Aiden in my kitchen making snacks. His phone is on the counter quietly playing something jazzy and soulful. He looks so at home in my kitchen. So at home everywhere I am.

Then I notice a big Barneys box lying on the island. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.

“That’s for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, open it.”

I slowly untie the ribbon, lift off the lid, and slide open the tissue. “Ohmigawd, Aiden! I fucking love you!” I scream, pulling out the purple handbag—that I wanted but didn’t buy—and hugging it.

His eyes get big.

“Oh, I mean, I, like, love that you got it for me. I was trying to be good.”

“You bought two gowns, six bags of clothes, and the four pairs of shoes they brought up to the dressing room for you.”

“I know. That's why I didn't get the purse. I was trying to being good.”

He laughs at me, but as I’m clutching the purse, I realize, “Look! It even matches my outfit.”

“Do you need a matching purse to watch movies upstairs?”

“Well, I didn’t before, but I do now.” I set the purse down, walk into Aiden’s arms, and kiss him. “Thank you. Really. It was so unnecessary but so incredibly sweet. And you surprised me. I love surprises.”

“Good,” he says, as he spins me out of his arms, dancing with me. He spins me tightly back into his arms, kisses the tip of my nose, and then spins me back out.

I’m not sure if it’s the spins or the kisses that are making me feel dizzy.

“I was thinking since we had a big late lunch that we’d just have snacks.”

“That sounds good. What can I make?”

He picks me up and sets me on the kitchen island.

“You watch. I'll cook,” he says as he puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

“I’m not sure I’d call throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave cooking,” I tease.

“I make it special.”

You make everything special, I think.

He's in and out of the fridge gathering ingredients. The microwave dings and he dumps the popcorn in a bowl then puts another bag in.

Then he stops and looks at me.

I smile at him. It sounds lame to say I smile at him but I do. He looks so damn sexy. His something comfortable is a tight white tank top and a thick pair of navy Abercrombie sweatpants that are just a little too short even though they're riding low on his hips.

He saunters over, wiping his hand on a dishtowel, and kisses me.

And kisses me.

Something starts to smell funny. My brain is a little fuzzy, but Aiden stops kissing me, and runs over to the microwave.

“Shit. You made me forget about the popcorn,” he says, laughing as he grabs a black smoking bag out of the microwave and carries it out to the deck. “Burnt popcorn smells so bad.” He puts another bag in and then pulls me back into his arms for a few more kisses.

The microwave dings. He doctors up the popcorn, then hands me a tray full of junk food.

I jump off the counter and carry it upstairs.

We get our trays situated on the coffee table, snuggle on the couch, and start the first movie.

He holds a piece of popcorn up to my mouth, so I open my mouth and taste it.

“Oh, that's good. What's on it?”

“Butter, of course, with some seasoning salt, Worcestershire sauce, and a little Parmesan cheese.”

“And don't forget the pretzels.” I take a sip of diet Coke to cleanse my pallet. “What's the other kind?”

“Taste.”

“Oh, that's good too. Spicy.”

“Hot wing sauce, butter, and a little cayenne pepper.”

“They're both really good, Aiden. How'd you learn to make them?”

“When my mom was going through chemo, she was tired a lot, so we watched movies together. And popcorn was one food that usually didn't make her feel sick.”

I get tears in my eyes. I don't know why. But Aiden just touches me.

I nuzzle my face into his chest and try to focus on the movie.

But it doesn’t work because Aiden keeps kissing me.

And after careful observation, I’m now one hundred percent certain that his tongue is laced with love potion.

That’s why he was saving it. He has to be careful who he uses it on.

My phone rings on the coffee table, breaking the spell a little. Aiden doesn’t stop kissing me. He just opens one eye, grabs my phone, and says, “It was Maggie. She’s called three times. You better call her back.”

We both sit up.

I take my phone from him and call her as he heads down the stairs.

“Keatyn, thank goodness. I need to talk to you!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, as I follow him to the kitchen.

“I can’t make a decision. I’m thinking I might sleep with Logan tonight.”

“If you think it’s right. Do you think it’s right?”

I look at Aiden. Wondering if I could ever forget the way he looks standing in my kitchen.

“It seems too soon,” she says. “Which makes no sense because we’ve already done it.”

“If you think you should wait, then wait,” I suggest. I hit the mute button on my phone and whisper to Aiden. “I’m gonna change real quick. This outfit is too hot.”

He nods as Maggie says into my ear, “You’re probably right. Are you and Aiden having fun?”

“Yeah, we’re having fun.”

“At least someone is,” she says.

I start to say Not that kind of fun, but she’s already hung up.

I strip my clothes off and throw on my short cashmere robe. It’s snuggly, but much cooler than the outfit I had on. Aiden radiates heat off his body and the robe has the added bonus that it would be super easy for him to slide his hands under.

When I walk back in the kitchen, Aiden goes, “Was Maggie talking about Logan? If so, I think you gave her some good advice.”

“Logan is her root. She needs to give it some time.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was her first love. She needs to figure out if she really loves him or if he’s just her first love.”

“Logan has no idea what he’s up against,” Aiden says with a laugh.

I slide my body up next to him and coo sexily, “Right now, you’re up against me.”

“And just getting here has taken a lot of patience.”

“You don’t need to be patient any more.”

“Actually,” he sighs, “I need to be very patient.”

“Why? Why can’t we just have some fun?”

“Because us, this, is not about fun.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s serious.”

I decide he’s being a little too serious. So I move out of his embrace and pour us each of shot of Patron Silver.

“Here’s to not having fun,” I say sarcastically, as I raise my shot glass in the air.

He sets my full shot glass down, along with his, picks me up, and carries me to my bed.

He lays me down, then pushes his hand into his pocket.

Ohmigawd. Is he getting out a condom?

Please.

Please.

Let it be.

I make it into a little song.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, little shiny foil wrapper, let it be. Oh. Let. It. Be.

Instead, he pulls out two feather earrings.

He runs the feather across my lips and then squiggles it down my neck.

“Aiden, wait.”

“Why?”

“It’s my turn.” I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it up over his head.

I have to admit, I take great pleasure in teasing him with the feather.

He’s lying on his back and I’m sitting on top of him. Straddling his waist.

I rub the feather lightly all over his chest. His neck. His perfectly shaped arms. Across his abs. In a little tickle motion up his sides. Across his neck. His face.

And. I’m. Dying.

Seriously.

I’m so freaking turned on I can barely stand it.

Grandpa and I had an interesting discussion this past summer about spurs. About whether or not they hurt the horse. Grandpa says there’s nothing wrong with spurring a horse on.

I think maybe that’s just what’s called for here.

I glide the feather across the waistline of his pants.

He closes his eyes for a minute and I realize this is my chance. I keep moving the feather across his skin while I slide out of my robe. So now, I’m sitting on him, naked except for a pair of lavender boy shorts.

I continue to run the feather across him, but I’m dying for him to open his eyes.

I’m afraid for a minute that he has fallen asleep.

But then he opens his eyes. There’s enough light that I can see the surprise in them.

He sucks in air like he just ran a set of sprints, then breathes deeply.

I bite my lip. All of a sudden, I’m nervous.

He shuts his eyes tightly. “Put that back on.”

What?! What the fuck? Is he serious?

I don’t say anything. I don’t even move.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re putting it on,” he says.

I find my voice. “I’m not. I like it off. I thought you would like it off.”

“Please put it back on.”

It’s very hard to have a conversation with someone when their eyes are closed. I can’t use my puppy dog eyes or my pout. “No.”

“If you don’t put it back on, I’m leaving.”

“Why do you have to be so freaking stubborn? And why does it always have to be what you want?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Please.”

“Oh, and then what? You gonna count to three and give me a time out? Open your eyes.”

He keeps his eyes shut, moves me off him, gets up, and walks out the door.

I suddenly feel very naked.

I sit here, not sure what to do.

I’m so disappointed. This has been the perfect weekend.

Then he had to ruin it. Why does it always have to get ruined?

I’m so tired of this. I’m so tired of being told no.

Maybe I should be done with him.

I’ll call Dawson. Tell him that I’ll go out with him. Let him be his sweet, adorable, and compliant self. He never, ever tells me no. And he went to Columbia again this weekend. He would come over and be glad to appreciate my nakedness.

I pull my robe on, hop out of bed, and walk purposefully to the kitchen.

I spy my purse sitting on the table.

Aiden is standing in the kitchen watching me, but I ignore him.

I sit on the bench and scroll through my phone.

“What are you doing?’ Aiden asks.

“Calling Dawson.”

Aiden rips the phone out of my hand. “I’m not going to let you do that.”

“You don’t have any say in what I do, Aiden.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn?”

I walk to the living room, raise my eyebrows at him, and pick up the landline phone.

Aiden marches over and presses the receiver down.

“Stop it! Give me my phone back.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“No.”

“I’ll just go use another phone,” I say, heading back toward the kitchen.

Aiden comes up from behind me, grabs me, and marches me back into the bedroom.

“You done with your little tantrum yet?”

Oh, my. He has no idea. That was no tantrum.

But he’s about to see a tantrum of epic proportions because I’m coming unglued, unhinged, and off my freaking rocker. I have been pushed to the point of no return.

“Give. Me. My. Phone.”

“No.” He sets my phone down on the dresser, grabs me around the waist, and pulls me in close to him. “You told me that you wanted to work on our foundation, our framework.”

I glare at him. “No amount of framework could keep us from crumbling.”

He runs his hand across my shoulder.

It instantly calms me. Which I completely hate.

“Don’t touch me.” I back away, sitting on the bed. I need to stay mad at him.

He sits down next to me.

I immediately stand back up and walk into the kitchen. No way am I going to sit on the same bed with him.

“Do you really think that was a rejection?” he asks, following me with my phone.

“Yes.”

He grabs me and pulls my hips tightly into his. “Does this feel like a rejection?”

“All we do is fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“Um, yes we are. And now we’re fighting over whether or not we’re fighting. It’s pathetic.”

“I want the same things you want. We’re going to take it slow.”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to take it slow. And I don’t get what the big deal was. It’s not like I was naked.”

“Keatyn,” he says firmly. “All you had on was a tiny pair of underwear.”

“I’m done arguing with you. Give me my phone. I don’t even have to flip a coin to figure it out. I want a guy who wants me.”

“You were going to flip a coin to decide between us?”

“I did flip a coin, actually.”

“And that’s exactly why I told you to get dressed.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Sit down and listen to me, please.”

I roll my eyes and comply. Why do I comply? Why don’t I run naked straight to Columbia?

“When you decide that you want me and only me, that’s when I’ll let you keep your clothes off. Until then, we’re going slow. I have never turned down a girl before.”

“Oh. Wow. That makes me feel so much better.”

He cradles my face in his hand. “Boots, I promise you. I want you. It took every single ounce of my conviction to do that. To walk out of the room. The foundation was your idea.”

“Can’t there be some boobs in our foundation? We’re talking middle school stuff here, Aiden.”

He shuts his eyes tightly. “I feel like I’m on that survivor show. Survive this and you can win the big prize.”

“Your dick is the big prize?”

“I’m not talking about my dick. You know what? If sex is all you want then, here, here’s the phone. Call him.”

I stare at the phone in my hand. “I asked my grandpa for advice on choosing between you and Dawson,” I say softly. “He’s the one who told me to flip a coin.”

“I’d think you’d want to decide with your heart, not by chance.”

“That’s what I said. I said, What if I don’t get what I want? And he said, Exactly. That when the coin is in the air, you’ll know what you want.”

“So what happened when the coin was in the air?”

“I knew before I flipped it that I wanted it to land on you.”

“Did it?”

“No. Dawson won three out of four.”

“So why isn’t he here with you now?”

“Because.”

Aiden stares at me, searching my eyes for answers. “Do you still want your phone back?”

I hold his gaze. “No.”

Aiden picks me up quickly, pushes me onto the kitchen counter, and kisses me.

Hard.

Full of desire.

This isn't a sweet chaste kiss.

No.

This is a tongue, and heat, and laying-me-across-the-counter kiss.

I remember a scene in one of my favorite books, That Wedding. When Phillip comes home to find Jadyn making cupcakes and they get in a frosting fight and do it on the kitchen counter. I so want my own scene like that.

Aiden moves his mouth away from mine, leans back slightly, rips open the front of my robe, shoves it off my shoulders, and stares at my naked chest.

A single finger touches me. Traces the curve of my breast. Circles my nipple. Grazing across the top of it.

He glances at me briefly, the hunger in his eyes returning. Then he attacks. He covers one breast with his big hand, massaging it, and rubbing his thumb across my nipple. The other breast he takes in his mouth. Sucking it in forcefully. Teasing it with his tongue. Licking around its edges.

I feel like I’m lost somewhere between heaven and the underworld. All I can do is breathe.

Until he takes my nipple in his teeth.

I gasp and hold my breath as he pulls it taut before letting it go. Giving me a teeny second of pain and then pure pleasure.