The Keatyn Chronicles: Adore Me (13 page)

“This shirt is soft. I might steal it and wear it to bed.” I sorta hug myself and run my hands down the sleeves.

He growls a little. “Are you going to take off my pants?”

My face instantly flushes—hell, my whole body instantly flushes.
 

I nod and move my hands to his belt while he pulls the shirt off my shoulder and kisses down my chest.
 

They are slow, soft, controlled kisses.
 

As he’s doing that, I unbuckle his belt.
 

Then I unzip his pants and let them glide down his legs.
 

“Sliders, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re comfortable.”

“And way hotter than boxers,” I state. Because those things are tight. As in, I can see the outline of every bulge underneath, including the one I’ve been dying to see.

But I remind myself that the sliders must stay on.
 

Do not take off the sliders.
 

Do not pull off the sliders.
 

He quickly kicks his pants off, and then in one fluid motion picks me up and lays me on the bed.
 

“I have a present for you,” I tell him, having no idea why I chose this moment to bring it up. Especially when I should be focusing on what I can feel under those sliders.
 

He props his head up, his green eyes sparkling in the candlelight and possibly looking the sexiest I’ve ever seen. “Really?”

“I was going to give it to you when you passed French this semester.”

“But you’re so confident that I’m going to pass that you’re giving it to me now?”

Oh, Lord.
 

No, I don’t want to give it to you now.
 

I want
you
to give
it
to me.

Unleash that freaking Titan.

Now.

“So, where is it?” he asks.
 

“Oh, um, what?”

“The present. Where is it?”

“Oh, I’ll go get it,” I say, clearing dirty thoughts from my head, hopping off the bed, and quickly running to the closet.
 

I stare at the wrapped Tiffany’s box sitting on the shelf, hating myself for lying to him. I’m giving it to him now because I know I won’t be there at the end of the semester.

I carry the box back to the bed and hand it to him. He leans back against the headboard and unties the white ribbon.

God, does he look sexy lying there in nothing but his underwear or what?
 

He smiles as he pulls out the silver keychain I bought him. It has a silver four-leaf clover charm set in a twisted circle. One side is engraved with the word
sort
and the other with the word
luck
.

“A four-leaf clover,” he says with a big grin.

“Both sides of it are engraved.”

He squints in the dim light, then holds the keychain in front of the hurricane lamp and reads, “
Sort.
As in the French word for fate?”
 

“Yeah. Now look at the other side.”

He flips it over. “
Luck.
Hmmm. Luck or fate. Which one are we?”

“I don’t know. But I do know I’m lucky to have met you.” Tears shimmer in my eyes as he touches my face.
 

“I think we’re both lucky.”

“Remember how I told you I called you the God of all Hotties?”

He grins. “Yeah.”

“That’s kind of how I treated you. Like a god. Like you were perfect. But after what happened with Chelsea, seeing you with black eyes, it made you more real. And it showed me how much I care about you.” I pause then say softly, “And that scared me.”

“Why were you scared?”

“Because when she told me . . . ” I clutch my chest, because just the thought of what she said being true still makes my heart ache.

“It hurt,” Aiden says, finishing my sentence.

“Yeah.”

He puts his fingers together, making half of our four-leaf clover. I hold my fingers together in the same way and touch his, forming the rest of it.
 

The second our fingers touch, it’s like magic. A crack of thunder roars and lightning shoots across the sky as a storm moves in from the distance.
 

Aiden stares at me for a beat then takes action, his lips finding my neck as he quickly unbuttons the single button on his shirt and undoes my bra. He tosses them both on the bed then leans in to kiss me.
 

Our naked chests touch.
 

You sometimes hear how a teeny spark can start a whole forest fire. Our chests touching is my spark, and now I’m burning out of control.
 

His fingers move across my nipple, causing it to immediately harden. Then he flicks it with his tongue and pulls it into his mouth with his teeth, sending lightning bolts of sensations through my body.

My legs are spread wide, his hips between them. He grips my hips tightly as he kisses his way down my stomach. He kisses around the edges of my lace panties, but they aren't gentle kisses.
 

They’re rough, harsh, ragged. And with every kiss, he pulls my hips up in a thrusting motion to meet his mouth.
 

I want to do something to him, but my body is consumed with what he's doing to me.
 

Just the anticipation of what he might do next almost sends me over the edge.

His mouth moves down farther, his tongue dancing from my thighs to my toes, causing my blood to pulse through my veins and my heart to beat wildly in one big blur of desire.
 

He pulls my hips toward his mouth, layering on kisses and sucking at the tender spots between my thighs. I grab ahold of his hair as I prepare for that magical tongue to move my panties aside and delve deeper.
 

His tongue explores the edges of the lace only, darting underneath but not staying for long.
 

He suddenly changes his position quickly and lies on his side next to me.
 

He kisses me again, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in a forceful way, almost like it’s mad at me.
 

I reply with equal force. Coming to sit almost upright when I feel his fingers pushing aside the lace, then touching me between the soft folds.
 

“God, you're wet,” he says, his fingers rubbing the outside of me. The friction alone is almost driving me mad.
 

“Oh,” I moan.
 

But then his finger dives inside me.
 

Then quickly out.
 

And I’m lost to him.
 

One single finger.

One tongue.

Completely controlling my body.
 

Controlling my heart.
 

And my mind.
 

I arch my back. “Mhmmmm. Ohmigawd, Aiden, that feels so good.”

He sucks the skin at the base of my neck while the throbbing reaches deep inside my body to places he can't touch.
 

After moaning an embarrassing amount, I kiss him deeply, then bravely and quickly move my hand inside his sliders and grasp the Titan.
 

Which, I discover, is a very appropriate name.
 

I should explore it but I don't.
 

I have but one goal.
 

To make him feel as good as I just did.
 

So I wrap my fingers around it and stroke.
 

Until he does.
 

Then we lie flat out on the bed. Both of us feeling completely spent.
 

He rolls over, pulls my back tightly into his chest, and lazily kisses my shoulder.
 

Just as I'm about to fall asleep—or maybe I'm already dreaming—I think I hear him whisper,
I love you.
 

Friday, November 25th

About last night.

9am

I wake up and peek at the clock, shocked to see that it’s almost nine.
 

I’m not ready to get up though. I want to lie in bed with Aiden all day. Revel in the glory of him. Sing praises about his chest. Write poems about his tongue. A sonnet about his lips. Buy a billboard in Times Square thanking him for his amazing fingers.

I pick his shirt up off the edge of the bed and pull it on, buttoning just the middle button.
 

I hug myself, loving how his shirt feels on me. And knowing that, somehow, I’m not letting it go home with him.
 

I lie back down and run my hand down his arm, wanting him to wake up so I can see those gorgeous green eyes.
 

He shifts and wraps his arm around me, pulling me close, but not speaking.

I look at the clock again.
 

Shit.
 

52 hours and counting.
 

“Come on, Aiden. Let’s get up and get our day started. We have a lot to do.”

“I thought coming to the beach meant doing nothing?” he says groggily.
 

“You promised to do all the stuff on my list. That starts today.”

“Are we surfing this morning?”

“Maybe.”

“I think we should lie here and talk about last night.”

My face breaks out in a grin. “What about last night?”

“Well, for starters, you have my shirt on.”

“Oh, do you want it back?”

“No. I love you naked in my shirt.”

“Technically, I’m not naked if I’m wearing a shirt.”

“Barely wearing,” he says, touching my stomach where the shirt falls open. “This shirt is officially yours. It looks way better on you than it does on me.” He studies me. “You’re beautiful.”

I cover my face. “I’m sure I look like a wreck.”

“A beautiful wreck then. Wearing my shirt. I’d like to wake up like this every morning of my life.” He gives me a naughty grin. “So back to last night.”

“Why do you want to talk about it?”

“Because we finally did some of what you wanted to do. Did you like it?”

“Hmmm. Let’s just say that I finally agree with what all the boys at school say about you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You have good hands.”

Aiden laughs. “I think they were referring to my goalie skills.”

I grab his hand and hold it up to mine. “You do have really big hands. And long fingers. It almost hurt.”

Aiden’s eyes get huge. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. God, no. Not at all. I said almost.”

“Is almost good?”

“Your almost was very good.”

I get the godlike smile. “It wasn’t sex.”

“And I’m okay with that.” I start to jump up out of bed, but Aiden pulls me back down and kisses me.

The love cliff.

10:25am

We finally get out of bed, get dressed, and head to the main house for some breakfast. We find Peyton in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee and talking animatedly with Inga.

“Where’s Damian?” I ask.
 

“He’s in the office. Business call.”

“Oh, cool.”

“But he said to tell you that we’re going to jump off the cliff today and that you’re not chickening out this time.”

“You chicken out? Are you afraid of heights?” Aiden asks me as he grabs some eggs and bacon from the warming drawer.

“No, I’m not afraid of heights. I’m afraid of hitting rocks, splatting, and dying.”

“Damian says that the locals call it the love cliff,” Peyton informs us.

“The love cliff? That’s cool,” Aiden says.

“Apparently, legend says that if you hold hands and jump off the love cliff, you’ll be together forever,” Peyton tells us, practically cooing.

“Especially if you hit the rocks and die,” I say sarcastically.

“Don’t be such a cynic,” Damian says, flicking my hair as he walks by.

“Funny, I’ve never heard it called the love cliff before,” I say to Damian, who I think just totally made that whole legend up.

“It’s so romantic, isn’t it, though?” she asks, clasping her hands together.
 

“Inga, have you ever heard it called that?”

“Of course; who do you think told him about the legend?”

I roll my eyes. Okay, I can see I can’t win this one. They’re both liars.
 

“So, you two in?” Damian asks, taunting me with his grin.

“It wasn’t on your list,” Aiden says to me. “But it sounds really fun.”