“Fake?”
“Uh-huh. I just go so she doesn’t get on my case about it. Besides, if it was a real date I wouldn’t have left him there to come running here after you, would I?”
His body relaxes, tightness leaving his muscles, and he pulls me from the wall into his body. He presses my face into his neck. The way his arm is wound tightly around my body lets me know he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want to lose me.
And this wasn’t anger. This was fear – of that exact thing happening.
I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tightly.
“I don’t know why I thought …” he trails off. “I’m such a f**king dick. I’m sorry, Megs.”
“It’s okay.” I kiss his neck softly. “I probably would have thought the same if it was the other way around.”
“No, baby, it’s not f**king okay. I can’t accuse you of that shit just because of my own issues–”
“You didn’t accuse me of anything.” I pull back, looking into his eyes. “If it was the other way around, I probably would have gone in there and ripped out her extensions.”
He smirks. “I don’t know how I didn’t go in there and knock him out.”
I run my fingertips across his back. “I don’t know how you did it either. I hate even seeing other girls look at you,” I say quietly.
“If Braden was anyone other than my best friend …” He shakes his head. “I’d tell him, but it ain’t that damn easy.” He sighs heavily. “I guess we’re just gonna have to deal with Lila’s bullshit plan and get on with it.”
“But what if it’s obvious? That there’s a bigger reason I’m turning them down?”
“Then we cross that bridge together when we get there.”
“There’s only so many guys that can’t be my type.”
“Listen here.” He turns my face so it’s against his, our noses brushing. “There’s only one f**king guy you need to worry about being your type, so every other dick can take a running jump off a cliff. In case you need reminding of that, baby, here’s your reminder.”
His lips crash into mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth possessively. He runs it along the length of mine forcefully, his hands pulling me ever closer to him. My own slide up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, and I let him claim me. I know this is what he needs, and the deepness of his kiss that tugs on my lower stomach muscles proves me right.
“I think I’m good on the reminder,” I whisper as he pulls away, pressing our cheeks together. “But any time you feel the need to remind me fully …”
His fingers dig into my back. “Any time I feel the need to remind you fully …” He turns his face, his lips barely touching my ear. “It’ll be a reminder you’ll never f**king forget.”
Chapter Fourteen - Aston
Seeing her with another guy – no matter how innocent or friendly it was – put a part of my brain into overdrive that’s only ever roared to life for me. The need to grab her arm, drag her out of that diner, and pin her against the wall while I kissed her senseless almost took over. The need to protect her from every other ass in this town, hell, in the state, was almost our undoing.
It’s something no one would understand. For the first time in my life I’ve started to let someone in, let them be there, all while taking what they have to offer. And that’s the problem. I’m taking from Megs but I’m not giving back to her – I’m not giving her what she deserves, yet, somehow, she knows exactly what I seem to need. All the time.
For the first time in my life I’ve let myself feel something other than the things that f**k up my mind. I’ve let her in. The one girl I knew could undo me with a simple smile or one glance into those little blue eyes – and she does. Every single time, she undoes me like she’s tugging on a loose string of a hand-knitted blanket, and all I can do is unravel in front of her.
The craziest thing is that I want to unravel. I want to tell her everything she wants to know. I want to tell her why I’m a f**ked up mix of hot and cold toward her, why I pull her into me and then push her away. But telling her … Telling her might just push it over the edge.
Telling her could push her away and make me permanently cold.
Telling her would mean accepting. Reliving. Remembering. Feeling.
Apart from Gramps, she is the only person I’ve ever felt something for. She’s the only person I’ve wanted to feel for, and what I feel is spiraling out of my control. It’s growing along with my need for her, which is way stronger than it should be, way more addicting than it should be.
Because that’s what she is. She’s addicting. The vanilla smell of her hair, the light in her eyes, the brightness of her smile, the soft skin of her hand; every part of her is addicting to me.
And even more than that … She sees me. She doesn’t see the jackass who f**ks everything with a pulse, or the cocky, arrogant bastard who cares about no one other than himself. Or maybe she does see that – she just sees what’s under it, too. She sees the real me, the one that no one else ever bothered to see.
She sees the broken. She sees the mismatched. She sees the f**ked up.
And pretty soon, she’s gonna grab hold of that f**ked up and pull it out of me in a gut wrenching conversation.
~
“It’s not working,” Megan’s voice echoes down the hall. “Make her stop with her stupid dates.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” Maddie replies. “You know what she’s like. She thinks she’s damn cupid or something.”
“One success – a third of success – with you and Braden doesn’t make her cupid! It doesn’t make me cupid, either. Shit. Has she ever thought maybe I’m happy as I am?”
“You’ll have to ask her. I just yes or no to the guys, Megs. Seriously, you should see some of the dicks she had lined up. It would have been like walking into a strip club – just without the sexy.”
“Ughghghghgh.” Megan bangs her head on the table as I walk into the kitchen, grinning.
“What’s up? Being forced on dates such a hard life?” I smirk as she lifts her head.
“How would you know?” she throws back at me. “I wasn’t even aware you got your ‘date’s’ name before you ripped her panties off her.”