Текст книги "Love Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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“Does that feel like middle school?” he says raggedly into my chest.

“Not at all.”

He grins at my chest, trails his tongue slowly from one boob to the other, and then takes it in his mouth.

A little moan escapes my lips.

Which seems to cause him to react. He sucks harder, massages harder, teases more, and his hips . . .

Oh. My. God.

My legs are spread apart. His hips are rocking between them.

Like we’re having hot sex on my kitchen counter.

I can feel his hardness pressing against me.

I push my hands just below the waistline of his pants.

He removes his lips from my chest and mutters, “Don’t. Unless you want me to stop what I'm doing.”

I quickly move my hands to his back.

I don’t want him to stop.

But I’m seriously going to have to wring my panties out after this.

Sunday, November 13th

Not PG.

4pm

We’re almost back to school when I notice the feathers attached to Aiden’s backpack. “I never got to finish with the feathers.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, really, what else were you planning?”

“I don’t know. Just, you know, rubbing them around some.”

“Rubbing them around or gliding them across my naked skin?”

“Uh, the gliding one” I say, swallowing hard, as my cheeks flush.

“Sounds like we have a date for next weekend.”

When we get back to my dorm, he gives me a sweet kiss.

“I loved our rainy day weekend,” I tell him.

“Me too. I have to get to the playoff meeting, otherwise I’d stay here and kiss you all night.”

He gives me one more kiss and then heads down to the field house.

I take my bags into my room and put my stuff away. Just as I finish, Maggie, Annie, Peyton, and Katie bound through the door.

“So what happened?” Katie asks.

“Did you sleep with him?” Maggie says at the same time.

“No, I didn’t.”

Maggie screws up her face. “Really?”

“Really. We're taking things slow. Really, super, excruciatingly slow.”

“So it wasn't that fun?” Annie questions.

“What? No. It was the most amazing weekend.” I tell them how we got dressed up and went to the top of the Empire State Building. I tell them all things we did and saw, but I keep the good parts to myself. I don't want to share them with anyone. They feel like they should be savored. “So what happened here?”

“Whitney and I took Cooper Steele to dinner,” Peyton says, her eyebrow raised, suggesting it was more than dinner.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was fun. The asshole is so charming, I’d share him if I had to. Hell, Whitney even suggested sharing—in a not so subtle way—but he acted like he didn't get it. Do you think he could be gay?”

“No, I think he's smart. He doesn't want to lose his job over a student when the guy could clearly get any woman he wanted.”

“Good point,” Peyton says. “I’m gonna have to try harder. Or maybe play hard to get.”

“Or give up.”

“No, not just yet. And it’s not like I care about him. I just don’t want Whitney to get him.”

“So what about you, Maggie? Did you decide to wait with Logan?”

“We didn't have sex, but we did everything else. Like you and Aiden.”

“You trying to trick me into admitting something?” I laugh. “It won’t work. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. I’m talking second base.” I was going to add that it was all very PG, but then I remember the deep kiss in the elevator, the ice the bathtub, the naked boobs on the kitchen counter. We may not have gone very far, but what we did felt so sexual, and so not PG.

Tuesday, November 15th

Stolen kisses.

11:45pm

 Today was a blur. A happy blur. Of holding hands. Of sweet texts. Of stolen kisses between classes. Of whispering to each other at lunch. Of French words spoken in my ear. Of the pep rally. Of wishing him luck. Of winning the playoff game.

Of sitting on the bus with him on the way home.

We’re holding hands. Lazily rubbing them together. Sometimes his fingers are laced between mine. Sometimes clasped together. Sometimes just our pinkies touch. Sometimes he runs his fingertip across my palm. I watch our hands in a daze.

It’s like our hands are dancing.

I feel like I could sit for hours and do nothing but hold his hand in hundreds of different ways.

He stops every once in a while to bring my fingers to his lips.

I stop every once in a while to kiss his lips.

And then we’re back home, and it’s another amazing goodnight kiss.

Wednesday, November 16th

Sleeps with James Bond.

11am

 Today is college and career day. The gym is set up with tables representing a multitude of college options. I dressed in a really cute uniform look for the occasion.

But first, I have an appointment with my academic advisor, who is going to give me the results of the career survey I took earlier this week.

“These surveys always make me laugh at the jobs they come back with,” Miss Praline says. “I just went over James Barnsworth the sixth’s—you know, of the railroad baron Barnsworths?—and it suggested a job as a sanitation worker. Can you imagine?”

I laugh. “Maybe he doesn’t want to join the family business.”

“Yours, however, are spot on. Actress, Producer, CIA Agent, Foreign Service Officer.” She hands me my results. “What do you think you want to do?”

I can’t say actress, for obvious reasons, so I go with one that actually sounds pretty cool. When I’m not reading romances, I read spy novels. I can totally picture myself as a badass spy. A classy one, though. Like the kind who gets dressed up in a designer gown, goes to fancy parties, carries a little gun in her garter, and sleeps with James Bond.

“I’ve always thought I wanted to be a doctor, but the CIA agent intrigues me. Really, it’s kinda brilliant. I have decent acting skills. I’m good with languages. And I love to travel. What would I have to do to become one?”

Miss Praline types a few things on her computer and prints out a sheet. “Here are some things you can do to prepare. Let’s see. Do a background check on yourself. Make sure your life stays squeaky clean. Don’t do drugs within twelve months of applying. Learn foreign languages.” She stops to look at me. “Do you speak anything other than French?”

“Yeah, I’m not as fluent but I can speak pretty well in Italian, Spanish, and German. I know some Swiss and Japanese too.”

She tilts her head at me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, we traveled a lot when I was a kid, so I just sort of picked it up. Every summer I listen to audio books in other languages. It helps me remember.”

“It also says you should get good grades, major in something International, be physically and mentally fit, and willing to travel.”

“Sweet.”

“Okay, so now you can go talk to the colleges. Maybe check out their International Studies programs.”

“That sounds good. Thanks, Miss Praline.” I stop and turn around. “Hey, did my uncle ever call you?”

She blushes and fidgets with her necklace. “Um, oh, he did. He travels a lot. As you well know. But we did go to dinner recently. He was in town for work. It was the same day your soccer coach left. I remember I almost cancelled on him because of the impromptu going away party we had for her.”

“Was it a good date?”

“Well, yes. He’s very handsome and well-mannered.”

“Any plans for a future date?”

“We’ve talked about it. He’s always rushing off to somewhere for his job.” She lowers her voice. “Do you know what he does?”

“For a living?”

“Yeah, it’s interesting that you want to work for the CIA. I’m pretty sure your uncle could help get you a job there.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I think that’s what he does.”

“Interesting,” I say, quickly standing up before she can ask any more questions.

I try to imagine my future life without acting. Honestly, the CIA might not be a bad idea. I could use it to figure out a way to get rid of Vincent. Or maybe I could dye my hair like Mom suggested and do a realty TV show about being in the CIA.

Oh. Yeah. Scratch that. That might sorta defeat the whole clandestine thing.

I talk to colleges about their International Studies programs. Because that does actually interest me. I’d love to do semesters abroad.

Jake and Dawson are in front of the NYU table talking to the recruiters. “We missed the early decision admission, but we can still do the regular one, right?” I hear Jake ask.

Dawson pulls me over. “You should apply here too,” he says. “The three of us could have fun. Parties at your loft. Weekends in the Hamptons.”

“Studying during the week,” the recruiter says.

“Of course,” Dawson replies.

“You could study acting with me,” Jake says.

“I think I’m going to major in International Studies.”

The recruiter asks, “Which kind? We have Global Liberal Studies, an International Business program, and an International Relations program. As a freshman in the Global Liberal Studies program, you can choose to study in New York, or at NYUs in Florence, London, Shanghai, or Paris.”

“Paris? Um, that one. The Global Liberal Studies, please.”

He hands me a packet of information.

“You know,” Dawson says, “there are a lot of good schools in the city. Have you ever thought of transferring there for your senior year? Living full-time at your loft. Jake and I are gonna miss you.”

“I never thought of it. Honestly, I really only need a few more credits to graduate. I could do them in the summer if I wanted to and skip my senior year.”

“That’d be awesome! Come to college with us.”

“I’ll think about it. Are you two going there for sure?”

“As long as they let us in.”

“Have you talked to your parents yet, Jake?”

“No, but they came to the play. They thought I was good.”

“Maybe it won’t be such a shock, then?”

“My two older brothers both went into the family business, so there’s really no big need for me to. Other than my dad wanting to control us.”

“What do you want to major in, Dawson?”

“Business. I had never heard of it before, but the NYU dude was telling me about their MBA program. You can specialize in Luxury Marketing. That’s something you’d be good at. One of their classes is about doing business in Italy.”

“Italian leather,” I murmur. “That might be a really good degree for me.”

“I was thinking Italian sports cars, but you get what I’m saying.”

“How do people ever decide what to major in?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think they guess.” He pulls me aside. “Seniors get the afternoon off. Wanna hang out?”

“I can’t skip, Dawson.”

“You have before.”

“I know, but . . .”

“You still don’t want to? Come on, Keatie. We haven’t done it for seventeen days and he still hasn’t asked you out. You haven’t done it with him, have you?”

“No.”

“Isn’t that killing you?”

I look down. “Kinda.”

“It’s not cheating if you aren’t in a relationship.”

“I know, Dawson. But I just can’t.”

Annie comes up and drags me away. “Let’s go to college together in Paris.”

“That would be cool. I was just looking at some International Studies programs. It’d be cool to study abroad.”

“It’s my dream.”

“How does Ace fit into that dream?”

She sighs big and shakes her head. “I have no idea. And, even worse, I have no idea how I’m going to survive him going to college next year. This college fair thing is really depressing. Part of me never wants to leave Eastbrooke. Another part of me can’t wait to start my life.”

“You’ve already started your life, Annie. But life is all about change. And sometimes changes happen when you least expect them.”

“Like yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your parents moving was a surprise, right? And you came here kinda last minute.”

“Yes, exactly. Sometimes you don’t expect it.”

“Do you like it here? Better than your old school?”

“It’s different than my old school,” I say.

But, honestly, my old school wasn’t all that different.

What’s different is me.

Thursday, November 17th

Stuff ourselves.

Soccer

After soccer, Peyton says, “Keatyn, come here.”

I jog over to her. “What’s up?”

“A couple things. I need more details about the trip. Like what we’ll be doing. What kind of clothes I should bring.”

“That’s easy. Some swimsuits for the day. A couple cover-ups. I usually wear a dress for dinner. I think I told you there’s a full staff, so we eat well and dinner’s kind of a big deal.”

“So a little more dressy?”

“Yeah, I know it’s seems silly with it being just the three of us. We wouldn’t have to dress up, but’s just sort of a . . .”

“Tradition?”

“Yeah. And of course, we’ll have a full-blown turkey dinner. Stuff ourselves.”

“And then watch football?”

“Yeah, there’s a really cool bar area that overlooks the ocean that has TVs and stuff, so we can enjoy both.”

“That sounds awesome. So, I have another question. Tell me what’s going on with you and Cooper.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Coach Steele.”

“Just the fact that you called him Coach Steele tells me you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Look. I know you’ve been going to meet him after curfew. I know that you were both gone on the same days and suspiciously left and got back at the same time. Are you having an affair with him?”

“Let me guess. You’ve been talking to Whitney? She seems to think we are. Even asked me if I was pregnant with his baby. It’s ridiculous.”

Peyton eyes me carefully, then says, “So why are you meeting him?”

“I’m taking some martial arts lessons from him. With homework and all the activities, meeting after curfew is the only time that works for us.”

“Why are you taking lessons?”

“I used to take kickboxing lessons with my stepdad and I missed it. And it’s a great workout.”

“As if the Steele Building Workout isn’t enough,” she says with a laugh. “I’m glad to know that’s all it is. And I can’t wait to go to St. Croix. Even if Whitney is pissed at me.”

“Why is she pissed?”

“Because I’m going with you. Why else?” she says with a smile.

Ohmigawd.

6pm

Every moment during my classes all I do is count down the minutes until I can walk out the door and see Aiden there waiting for me. Until I can feel his hand tightly holding mine as we walk to the next class. How he gives me a single perfect kiss at the door.

How I count down the hours until it’s time to meet him in his room for tutoring.

And I'm looking very forward to tonight's tutoring. We're currently studying body parts in French.

So I think a tutoring field trip of his body will be required.

All in the name of learning, of course.

When he kisses me before dinner, I know how my cell phone feels when its battery gets low.

When it flashes at me.

Low Battery. 20% of battery remaining. 

Low Battery. 10% of battery remaining.

That's how I feel between each kiss. Like I need more charge.

And although each kiss boosts the charge, the second his lips leave mine, it's like I got unplugged.

We rush through dinner, ignoring our friends even though we’re sitting beside them. Then rush to his room.

We sit on his bed and kiss until he finally says, “We should probably do some homework.”

“I agree. And we should start with French.”

He smiles knowingly. “I was thinking the same thing.”

I spread open our workbook pages to the body part chart. “I think we should make a little game out of this.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I’ll say the body part in French and you have to point to it. If you get it right . . .”

“I get to kiss it,” he says with a grin. “You need to lie down. So you’re like the girl in the diagram.”

“Fine. Okay, so the first word is les lèvres.”

“Lips,” he says, leaning over me and placing his lips on mine.

“Very good. How about le bras?”

He doesn’t say a word. Just leans down, slides my blouse open a little, and places his tongue on the skin just above my bra.

“That’s not right.”

“This better?” He repeats what he did, only this time he roughly sucks my skin into his mouth giving me an instant hickey.

“I didn’t mean you did it wrong,” I reply as he continues to undo my blouse and suck on more tender spots. “I, uh, meant that’s not, like, the right spot.”

“Do you like this spot better?” he asks, moving my bra aside and pulling a nipple into his mouth.

“Um, yes. But, uh, no. Le bras means arm.”

“That makes no sense. I like my translation better.”

“We have a lot of words to get through.”

“Give me another one then.”

“Uh, how about le cou?”

“That’s an easy one,” he says, sucking on my other boob.

“Aiden!” I laugh. “None of these words are boob.”

He leans back up. “Fine. What is it?”

“Neck.”

“Very nice.” He runs his hand down my neck and then kisses my favorite spot just under my ear.

“What about le pied?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it where you pee from?”

“Ha! No!”

“I bet it is. You’re dying for me to kiss there.”

“It means foot. You’re not doing very well.”

He kisses my nose. “Sorry. Next?”

“La jambe.”

“Leg.”

“La poitrine?”

He kisses across my chest.

“Very good,” I say. “That’s chest. L’estomac?”

He unbuttons the rest of my blouse and runs ticklish little kisses across my stomach.

I swallow and say, “Stomach. Correct. La coeur?”

He stops kissing my stomach, looks into my soul, and puts his hand on top of it. “Heart,” he says.

“Um, very good. Le doigt?”

He pulls my hand to his lips, kisses my left ring finger, and says, “Did you know that the veins in this le doigt are supposed to run straight to your la coeur, and that’s why you wear a wedding band there?”

“I didn’t know that,” I say breathlessly.

“I’m going to do a quick version of this so we can get it over and get to the good part.”

I’m wondering what good part we’ve yet to get to, but I don’t ask because he says, “La tête. Sounds dirty, but just means your head.”

I swallow hard and close my eyes.

Think about the head that sits on his neck, Keatyn.

He touches my eye and says, “L’oeil.” Then he says, “La bouche, les dents, la langue, les cheveux, l’oreille, and le nez,” in rapid succession as he kisses my mouth, my teeth, my tongue, my hair, my ear, and my nose.

“Very good,” I say, but I’m a little disappointed. I had hoped this would go on a little longer.

“So, I have a follow up question to the Sex Survey,” he says with grin.

“I found out that you're not even in health class.”

He keeps his mouth shut tightly, like he's trying not to laugh, and smiles. “Everyone knows it’s a seniors only class. I thought you were just playing along.”

“I didn’t know. You tricked me.”

He smirks, shrugs in the most adorable way ever, and then kisses the tip of my nose.

I melt into a puddle.

Clean up on aisle four. 

“Hey, wait a second. You just kissed the tip of my nose. That's what your mom said you do to get out of trouble.”

He leans in and kisses my bottom lip then grabs it gently between his teeth and pulls it away from my mouth.

When he lets go, he runs his tongue across it and whispers, “You use this. Your adorable pout. It's no wonder you always get your way.”

“Stop teasing me with your tongue. Either put it to good use or put it away.”

“Mmmm, you like my tongue?”

He uses his tongue to trace the curve of my chin.

I tilt my head back, giving him full access to my neck, and let out a little sigh.

God, I love this boy’s tongue.

I grab his face in my hands and bring it to my lips, shoving my tongue into his mouth.

Then I explore his mouth like it holds the answers to the universe.

He pulls me roughly onto his lap.

Which pretty much sets my panties ablaze.

I smile.

It's obvious my tongue is getting him worked up.

“I can feel you smiling,” he says in between kisses.

“I like sitting on your lap.”

I move myself against him, grinding into him while we make out.

He starts to make sexy little growls.

And they turn me on even more.

His kisses get rougher and deeper the harder I move against him.

He stops kissing me and grabs my hips. “You're gonna have to stop doing that or I'm gonna . . .”

I kiss the tip of his nose, smile at him, and then look into his eyes while purposefully moving against him.

“That's making it worse.”

“Good,” I say, smashing my lips into his and rubbing my jeans across the top of his hardness.

I let my body go. Let it do what it wants.

I move my hips faster and faster against him.

Over and over again.

And the friction causes me to . . .

Ohmigawd.

Can you get excited when you’re fully clothed? With nothing but the feel of my jeans moving roughly against me?

“Oh,” I moan.

Aiden reacts by grabbing my hips, controlling my motion.

I moan again, my insides throbbing.

He tightens his grip on me, stops my movement, and breathes out heavily.

Then he rests his forehead against mine.

“I think we just had sex,” I say with a laugh.

“We didn’t have sex. We’re fully clothed.” He laughs. “I’ve never done that before. Dry humping.”

“Trust me, there was nothing dry about it.”

He kisses me hard then says, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. Clean up.”

“Okay.”

While he’s gone, I realize that my heart has taken up residence in my vagina. It's still throbbing and pulsing and pounding.

I plop down on his bed. Maybe lying flat will help.

But it doesn’t. It’s begging and giving me an overwhelming desire to touch myself.

I reach down and press my hand against my jeans.

I don't hear Aiden come out of the bathroom. I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do about this.

Aiden replaces my hand with his and says, “I'll do that.”

“It keeps throbbing.”

Aiden’s smile blazes.

When he runs his hand roughly on the outside of my pants again, that's all it takes to send me over the edge.

“Oh my god. Oh . . . Oh . . . Oooohhh . . . Mmmmmm.”

I move my hips quickly against his fingers. I don't care that there are two layers of fabric separating us. I'm shameless in my need.

Finally, I stop, lie back on the bed, and sigh. “Holy shit.”

“Did you . . . I mean, I don't think I've ever made a girl, um, do that.”

“I’ve.” Deep breath. “Never.” Another deep breath. “Either.”

Aiden’s smile lights up campus. “Never?”

“Not like that.”

“Not like what?”

I cross my legs and squirm.

“It’s still throbbing.”

“Tell me what not like that means, and I’ll do it some more.”

“I can’t tell you about that.”

“Boots, we have to be able to talk about sex. About what feels good . . .”

“I just told you what feels good! Please.”

“Tell me.”

“Oh my gosh. Fine. I’ve never had one happen from the outside before. Only from, um, the interior portion.”

“The interior portion?” he replies, laughing at my choice of words.

“You know what I’m saying.”

“Vous avez eu un orgasme de stimulation interne?

“Yes, Aiden, I had one from internal stimulation.”

“How? Exactly.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Then I’m not rubbing you,” he pauses and touches the spot I want—no, need—him to keep rubbing.

“Fine! At some point in my life someone may have used his mouth on the outside . . .”

“Sur votre le clitoris?”

“Yes, on that part. While putting his fingers on the inside.”

“Dans votre vagin?”

“Ohmigawd. Yes, in my vagina. And then he put something else in there.”

“His ton engin?”

“Yes, his tool. I never should have bought you that dirty French book.”

He rubs his hand slowly between my legs. Not in the exact spot I need, but close.

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Je vous aime taquiner, ma chérie.”

“You love teasing me? That’s not right.”

“I want to know how to turn you on.”

“I just told you how, but you keep stopping!”

He leans down, kisses my neck, and finally rubs my jeans in exactly the right spot.

When I get to my dorm, I run to Maggie's room, pull her out of bed, and drag her into the stairwell.

“Are there different kinds of orgasms?”

She rubs her eyes. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Aiden was rubbing me on the outside of my pants. He wasn’t even touching my skin and I did. Actually, I did more than once. Or maybe it was just one continual one, I don’t know. And still, now, it’s like it’s still contracting.”

“Did you not have them with Dawson?”

“I thought I had. I mean, sex always felt really good, but it wasn’t until we went to his house for Riley’s birthday that I really did. He took his time, for once, but it was like an internal feeling. This is different.”

“There are two, possibly three, different types of orgasm. Clitoral, vaginal, and G-Spot.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Um, Logan may have looked it up.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? He wanted to please me.”

I smile. “And is he pleasing you now?”

“Yes. Very much. We haven’t actually had sex yet. We want to make sure this is really right before we do it again, but we’re doing everything else. I think he’s trying to make up for being a jerk before. It’s been all about me. Which makes it really fun.”

“Does it ever stop throbbing? I think it might be broken.”

“Sounds like you need some sex.”

“You're right. That is what I need.”

I go to my room, lie in my bed, stare at the stars, and imagine our perfect night.

Which involves me stripping that boy naked tomorrow night and declaring NOvember officially over.

Once Katie is asleep, I get up, sneak out, and go meet Cooper for more butt kicking lessons.