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.”