First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (152 page)

My eyes close, and my head drops back against his shoulder involuntarily.
 

“I can’t reach your zipper like this,” he whispers in my ear, his lips lightly grazing against the side of my neck. His breath is hot and soothing and exciting all at once.
 

My head has taken a vacation, and my fear seems to have fled right along with my common sense. “Fuck the zipper.”

Arion laughs, and it comes out husky and sexier than any man has a right to be. “It ain’t the zipper I’m thinking about fucking.” His hands tug against my waist, angling me so I can feel how hard he is. “Do you want me, Angel?”

Reality spirals around me. I do want him but not here. “We’re in a freaking dressing room!” My eyes snap open, and I start to pull away.

Arion is having no part of letting me go, and panic begins to creep in, swirling like a whirlpool, sucking me down even as the sensations his hands are causing lift me up. I’m caught between falling and floating, and I’m not sure if I ever want it to end. His hand slides around to my stomach, keeping me pulled tightly to him, while his other hand weaves through the open zipper around to the front beneath my dress. When his finger slips beneath my bra, then spirals around one of my nipples, I can’t hold back the moan that bubbles from deep within me, and all thoughts of fear flee.
 

“I didn’t say I was going to take you in here, though all you have to do is ask. I just want to know if you want me. Really, really, want me.” His fingers squeeze, sending a burst of desire radiating from my chest all the way to my core.

I know he doesn’t mean just this minute, but my hips have started to grind against him anyway. It’s embarrassing and liberating all at once. “Yes,” I pant.

“Good,” he growls into my ear then releases me.
 

I stumble forward with a whimper. The absence of his body against mine is torture, and I want no part of it. I need to be back against him.
 
My breaths come in ragged gasps, and I can’t help wondering if my expression is as wild as I feel. Arion slips a hand behind my neck, and I go to him willingly, parting my lips as his crush into mine and his tongue dips into my mouth.
 

My fear is hovering nearby, just out of focus, but ready to consume me if I don’t keep it firmly leashed.
 
As Arion’s fingers glide to the base of my head and tangle in my hair, it’s all I can do not to succumb to whatever claims me first: his touch or my torment.

I can’t count how many nights I daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss Arion, but I’m pretty sure I have a weak imagination because I never fathomed it could be this incredible. His mouth completely captures mine, and his teeth nip and gently bite along my lip before he thrusts his tongue back to dance with mine once more. It’s like he’s staking a claim, and in that instant, I want him to claim every part of me.

Footsteps outside the door bring me crashing down, and I freeze then remember. Memories use my moment of clarity to reassert themselves, and I realize that Arion can’t claim me as his unless my past lets me go.

Twelve

Arion

A moment ago, Angel was so fucking open and responsive to me it nearly sent me over the edge. Now she’s throwing up walls faster than I thought possible.

“I do want you,” she insists, and I can see the truth of it in her hungry expression. “But my head is still kinda messed up, and I just need some time.” She squirms away from me, and this time I open my arms and let her go.

I readjust my pants, trying to ease my discomfort, and nod. She’s not a ‘one night stand’ kind of girl; she’s a ‘one lifetime isn’t ever going to be enough’ kind of girl, so I can be patient. Even if what I really want to do is bend her over that bench in the changing room and slam into her. When she bolted earlier, outside the store, I thought I was losing her again. There’s something more there, something she isn’t telling me, and I think it’s the same thing that’s stopping her now. I swallow hard, staring at her slightly mussed hair and flushed cheeks. “Just tell me one thing and then fine. Did someone hurt you? Is that why—”

Her face starts to crumble as she nods, and her eyes go glassy with tears. Not knowing sucks, but seeing her look like that kills me, so I pull her against me, enveloping her in my arms. “Okay, forget it. You don’t have to tell me anything. Just know I’d never hurt you, Angel. I can’t promise I’m going to stop coming on to you, because I won’t. I want you too damn much, but I’ll try to behave.”

“I don’t want you to behave; I want me to be ready,” she whispers into my chest, and for now it’s enough. She isn’t ready to talk about it, but that doesn’t matter right now. I have other ways of getting the answers I need without causing her more anguish.

I stroke her hair for a few moments then nudge her toward the changing room. “Get dressed.”

She disappears into the room and comes out with the dress slung over her arm. “Brandy already took the other clothes that fit out. Did you pick which you wanted me to get?”
 

“Yup.” All of them. “They’re waiting at the counter; I already paid. This too.”

“But?” Her forehead furrows. “I don’t think I need a dress like that for the farm, no matter how gorgeous it is.”

“I’ve got to go to an awards dinner on Thursday evening. Normally they’re dull, boring affairs, but I was hoping you’d go with me. I’d pick you up from the farm Thursday afternoon and take you back on Friday, if you wanted.” And if she goes, it most definitely won’t be boring. Especially with her in that dress.

“That sounds like girlfriend territory.”

“Last time I took Chelsea, but this time she has her own date. I guess I could ask one of the waitresses—”

“I’ll go,” she says, a little too quickly.

That was easier than I thought. Angel always did have a jealous streak to go along with her competitive streak, and I only feel a little guilty for using it. My purchases are already waiting in bags by the register, so as soon as Brandy puts the dress into a garment bag, we’re ready to go.
 

An hour later we’ve made it to the shoe store for two pairs of boots and a pair of sandals. I tried to buy her more sneakers, too, but she said hers are perfectly fine. We also picked up a new suitcase for her to get all her stuff out to the farm—and more importantly, to get it back to my apartment when I finally convince her to come home to me—and a raincoat and umbrella.
 

We’re walking toward the exit, loaded with bags, when she pauses before a sparkling fountain. The way her face lights up, it’s like the fountain is pouring out liquid hope instead of recycled water. “Since you’re so determined to waste money on me, can I have a penny?”

Her protests about money are going to get old quick. In some ways, it’s cute, but what’s so wrong about me wanting to take care of her?
 
After I sit the bags down by the fountain, I manage to find a few quarters in my pocket. I always try to grab a few for parking meters.
 

Angel’s face scrunches up as she eyes the quarters. “Is this going to become typical? I ask for something little, and you do something big?”

I’d give her the world if I could, but I think if I tried, she’d throw it back in my face. I wonder how annoyed she’s going to be when she opens the bags of clothes and realizes how much I bought beyond what she tried on. “It isn’t a big deal. Trust me, if I was shopping with Chelsea, what we’ve bought today would barely be the tip of the iceberg.”

“Doesn’t she have her own money, since her mom married your Dad?”

“No, I pay her a salary for bartending, but she has expensive tastes and a serious lack of restraint.” That, and I think her mom secretly wants Chelsea to try to find a man to take care of her, the way Vanessa snagged my dad.
 
If she had her own card, she’d be less inclined to do so. Angel doesn’t need to know that. I detest Vanessa enough for the both of us. “Somehow she manages to talk me into always giving her more or taking her shopping. But I figure she’s been there for me when I need her, and I can always make more money. It’s harder to make a true friend.”
 

One of the reasons I fell so hard for Angel without having met her is that I always felt like she truly saw me for me. It’s impossibly easy to find any number of girls who will sleep with me or keep me company because they want a taste of money and power. Angel knew nothing about my family’s wealth, and yet she still liked me.

Angel closes her eyes and tosses a quarter into one of the middle tiers of the cascading fountain.
 

“What’d you wish for?”

Angel smiles a secret smile and shakes her head. “Can’t tell you; that’s against the rules.”

The way she says it, she remembers darn well how I feel about rules. If you know the rules, you can work them in your favor and use them to win. The best players aren’t better because they have more skill; they’re the best because they constantly walk the line of the rules, taking every possible advantage.
 
But when it comes to Angel, I want to break all the rules. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.” I grab one of my quarters from her cupped palm and toss it in. My wish is standing right beside me. So why does she feel more out of reach now, in person, than she did when we only had each other online?

Thirteen

Angel

After the mall, the grocery store was a breeze. I not only loaded the cart with enough for dinner tonight but also for the next several days. How that man exists on just bar food and protein shakes, I’ll never understand. His only addition to the cart was a Keurig, complete with K-cups. He said he didn’t want a lack of coffee to be an excuse for me to stay away. As if it would. But I’m not telling him that. Not yet.

My eyes drift up, away from the cheese I’m grating, as the door to the bathroom creaks open. As soon as we returned from shopping, Arion said he needed to fit in a quick workout and then a shower afterward. He didn’t say so, but I think he needed to work off some frustration after our exploits in the dressing room. I rip my gaze away from his abs, settling on his eyes. He definitely looks more relaxed than he did when we got home. I mean back to his place.
 

“I need to run out for a few minutes, do a few quick errands. You’ll be okay here on your own?”

“I’m a big girl; I think I can handle it.” I wink as I free a clump of cheddar from the grater. It’s a crying shame Arion has top-of-the-line everything in his kitchen, and not a bit of it looks like it’s ever been used.

He pauses at his doorway, looking quietly at me as if he’s not sure what he should do. Wave, say nothing, or maybe even kiss me goodbye. “I’ll be less than an hour, that all right?”

“Shoo!” I laugh as the door shuts behind him. He looks so out of his element having me here, cooking in his kitchen, but I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

My mother’s mother died when Mom was a toddler, and her dad remarried soon after, to my Abuela. Some of my earliest memories are of the three of us cooking together. Since Arion oversaw my initiation with traditional Philly cheesesteaks this morning, I figured I’d make him Abuela’s Enchiladas. As I finish shredding the cheese, I wonder if I should borrow Arion’s phone to let Mom and Abuela know I’m all right.

With the cheese done, I move on to the onions. At least I can pretend they are the source of my tears.
 

Not telling my family where I was going near about killed me, but better me than them. I need to be unfindable because I know Nick is going to try and get Mom to tell him where I’m at. She can’t tell him what she doesn’t know.
 

I’m bent over adjusting the pan of
 
enchiladas in the oven when the door opens, and I hear Arion’s low whistle.
 

“That’s a view I could get used to coming home to.”

I whirl, shutting the oven with my hip, ready with a sharp retort, but then I freeze.
 

Arion is holding a mixed bouquet of lilies surrounded by red and yellow roses out in front of himself like a tithe, an offering of peace. A brown paper bag with short handles dangles from his other hand, and a potted succulent is tucked into the crook of his arm.

“What the—”

“I’ve never exactly bought a girl flowers before, so bear with me. The woman in the shop said yellow roses mean friendship and red roses are for romance.”

I arch an eyebrow and hope he can’t see my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. I think this is about the sweetest or the most outrageous thing anyone’s ever done for me. Maybe both.
 

“I know that right now you aren’t ready, and I’m okay with that. So I thought this would be a good way to show you friendship is enough for now but that I won’t stop waiting and hoping for more. Someday, our bouquet will be red.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, trying to ignore how thready my voice sounds because of the lump lodged in my throat. “And the cactus?”

He pushes the roses into my trembling hands, puts the bag on the counter, then holds the pot up for me to see. “It’s actually two. Look.” When Arion tugs, the pot splits in half, creating two faux broken circles, with a prickly plant in each. “I wanted you to have a bit of your home, here. Maybe someday you’ll think of this as home. When you’re ready.”

“Two?” I can barely find my voice, so I’m pleased with managing even one little word.

Arion nods. “One for you to take to the farm with you, and one to keep here.”

“Arion, I—”

In one quick movement, he sets the pots on the counter and holds a finger to my lips. “Shh. Don’t say anything. Please.”

How crazy is it that a gorgeous man brings me flowers and then has to beg me not to ruin it? But he’s right, I was going to argue and say it’s too much. Instead, I find a small but sincere smile. “What’s in the bag?” At the rate he’s going, I’m just praying it isn’t a ring. I don’t know how he can be so sure about us, after everything.

“Wine.”

“Thank God!” I reach for the bottle as the oven timer goes off behind, admonishing me for being so eager to abandon sobriety with a shrill beep. It can admonish all it wants, as intense as Arion is, I think I need a glass, or three.