I swipe the screen to read the text.
Aiden:Asleep?
I contemplate sending him a ‘fuck you’, but decide to ignore him instead. I seriously don’t know what he’s thinking by texting me.
It’s not like we’re old friends or even acquaintances.
Another text comes in.
Aiden: I’m not.
Obviously.
My phone dings again.
Aiden:I’m picturing you naked, screaming my name while I pound into your tight little pussy.
A tingle warms its way down my body and between my legs.
Aiden: If you don’t reply, I’ll keep telling you about my fantasies.
I purse my lips. He won’t get to me.
Aiden: I’m thinking about your pouty lips around my dick as I face-fuck you while you stare up at me with teary blue eyes.
The explicit image draws a shudder from my spine.
Aiden:I miss your full tits and how perfectly they fit in my palms. Are your nipples sore?
My nipples harden against the soft cloth of my PJ’s and I cross an arm around them as if he can see them.
Aiden: I know you’re not asleep, sweetheart. Last chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t reply.
When I remain silent, he sends another one.
Aiden:As you wish.
He stops sending texts. I wait for five minutes, but nothing comes out. My hands tremble as I put the phone on the nightstand.
Why did he stop texting?
Nope. I’m not allowing him to get under my skin.
In the morning, I wake up with my hand between my legs.
Again.
Shit.
I don’t usually remember my dreams, but I recall glimpses of this one. Dark grey eyes. Tears in my eyes and something thick in my mouth.
I take the longest, coldest shower I ever had and stumble downstairs.
“… maybe she’s remembering.”
I halt near the corner of the stairs at Aunt Blair’s worried voice.
“You’re overthinking.” Uncle’s sounds muffled due to something he must be eating.
So he did come home last night.
“Maybe we should try Dr Khan’s recommendations.” My aunt again. “She’ll be eighteen soon.”
Dr Khan’s recommendations?
And what does my age have to do with anything?
Dread lodges at the pit of my stomach. I don’t like where this conversation is going.
“Stop overthinking, Blair.” Uncle scolds. “I’ll go see if she’s up. She’ll be late for school.”
Aunt mumbles something, but I don’t hear it. I make a deliberate sound of my feet flapping against the floor as I round the corner with a big smile on my face. “Morning!”
I kiss Uncle on the cheek and let Aunt kiss mine. I drop my backpack on the chair and dig into the jam and butter. Special jam without much sugar and special non-animal butter.
My life is based on healthy food.
Appetite escapes me, but I force down tiny bites. If Aunt Blair notices I’m not eating, she’ll freak.
“Is Kim late?” Aunt asks.
“No, she has to pick up Kir this morning. I’ll take a taxi.”
“Nonsense. I’ll drive you, pumpkin,” Uncle says.
“No. You drive recklessly.” Aunt smiles. “I will.”
The bell rings. Must be Mrs Robinson next door. She loves baking and giving her muffins to neighbours. Although Aunt doesn’t let me eat them.
I take the chance to distract Aunt from my barely eaten sandwich. “I’ll open!”
Uncle gives me a look. “I will do it. Finish your breakfast, pumpkin.”
Busted.
“Why don’t you wear your hair down?” Aunt asks, smoothing my ponytail.
I take a sip of the orange juice. “It’s a hassle.”
Truth is, I never liked my hair down.
“Pumpkin?” Uncle’s voice sounds bemused as he appears at the threshold. “A friend came for you.”
“A friend?” Did Kim change her mind?
But then again, Uncle Jaxon doesn’t call Kim a ‘friend’.
My friend appears and I choke on the orange juice.
Aiden fucking King is standing in our dining room.
Chapter Twelve
Idon’t believe in extraterrestrial beings but at the moment, I would rather have an alien standing in my dining room instead of Aiden fucking King.
I’m too stunned to react. The toast is suspended mid-air with my jaw almost dropping to the floor.
Aiden saunters to the middle of my dining room with confident, nonchalant steps.
People feel awkward — or at least reserved — when entering a place for the first time.
Not Aiden.
His gleaming eyes fix mine with so much ease like all this is an everyday occurrence.
The school’s jacket stretches over his defined shoulder muscles giving him an older edge than his eighteen years. His inky hair is slicked back to perfection and he’s even wearing the tie, today. His pressed trousers and elegant, designer shoes complete his shiny appearance.
Aiden only looked this way at the end of the year ceremony when he had to give speeches. He doesn’t dress to impress, but today, he most definitely is.
It’s a subtle reminder that he’s not only a student at RES but also the future heir of the school.
He’s not only Aiden, but he’s also Aiden King.
The air turns stuffier and tighter with his presence.
I’m shocked, Uncle appears confused and Aunt grips the glass of orange juice so tight, her knuckles turn white. She stares at Aiden as if she’s seeing a ghost.
Uncle clears his throat. “I didn’t know Elsa had other friends aside from Kim.”
Way to go, Uncle. Might as well tell him that this family exists because their biggest contractor is King Enterprises.
Aiden pouts — the bastard actually pouts — and stalks towards me. “I’m hurt, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were hiding me from your parents.”
In a few subtle words, he made Aunt and Uncle believe we’re in a relationship. He said it so casually, no one would peg him as a liar.
Those aliens might as well kidnap me in their spaceships and throw me on their planets.
Uncle’s brows furrow and Aunt stares at me hard. Something twists in my chest. It feels as if I betrayed her.
“It’s not like that,” I whisper past the lump in my throat, but Aunt doesn’t seem to be hearing me.
“You didn’t tell us you knew Aiden, pumpkin,” Uncle says in a more cheerful tone.
“It’s my fault.” Aiden faces my uncle with the most sincere, solemn expression I have seen on him. Even his accent becomes posher. “Due to your company’s contract with my father’s company, Elsa was worried about implicating our parents. I respect her wishes, but I also want to show her off as my girl.”
Elsa?
My girl?
Am I in a freaking nightmare right now?
I want to shove his perfect face in a sink full of water and hold him there until no more breaths come out.
My chest squeezes at the image.
It’s so familiar and… disturbing.
My widened eyes snap back to Aiden.
Subconsciously, people are ashamed about lying and their brains express that in the form of tells. A rub of the nape. A twitch of the eye. A twist of the lips.
Not Aiden.
He feels none of that shame and therefore, his lies come out in a smooth, intricate web.
If the relaxation of Uncleʼs shoulders is any sign, he believes him.
“Is that true?” Aunt Blair faces me, still gripping the orange juice glass tight.
“It’s…” My hands ball into fists in my lap, but before I can continue, Aiden is by my side.
He touches my cheek with his knuckles, and they heat like a pit of flames.
Damn him. How can he touch me in front of Aunt and Uncle?