Dirty Little Secret

by Wood, Vivian

  She moves her book to the side and shoots me a glare. “You are a terror. I don't even know why I’m still sitting here and putting up with this… this inquisition.”

  My grin widens. “Who’s the best sex you’ve ever had? Hmm? Who just totally blew your stack?”

  She goes bright red in an instant, glancing away. She drops the book, but she won’t look anywhere near me. “Ummm…”

  I grin. Reaching out to touch her bare knee, I rib her a little. “Come on, you can tell me.”

  She looks back at me, her blue eyes full of mortification. “You’re going to make fun of me.”

  “Me? No.” I shake my head. “Scout’s honor, I won’t.”

  Olivia looks like she’s about to die. “You go first.”

  I have one already lined up. “Easy. When I went to Amsterdam, I did a ton of mushrooms and got crazy with a girl in my hostel. It was four hours of intense awesomeness… followed by her rushing to leave. She had a flight to catch, I guess.” I laugh. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Red as a tomato, she forces her gaze down and mumbles. “I’ve never… umm… done more than kiss?” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m a… um… a virgin.”

  “Bullshit.” My answer is instantaneous, bursting past my lips unheeded. There is just no way that anyone could look like Olivia does and still be untouched. “That is one hundred percent a huge fucking lie.”

  She shoots to her feet, looking mad. “You’re a jerk.”

  I’m still giving her my most suspicious eye. Is she being for real?

  Shoving her book back in her tote bag, Olivia yanks her tote from the sand and storms off.

  “Hey,” I call after her. She doesn’t even pause. “Olivia!”

  She stalks off, heading across the road. I sit back in the sand, marveling over what she just told me.

  Olivia’s a virgin?

  No way.

  My cock hardens, just thinking about what it would be like to plow that maidenly field.

  How amazing her pale skin would look under my deeply suntanned hands.

  The sounds she would make.

  Knowing that I would be the first man to make her cum…

  I sit on the beach as dusk falls around me, wondering what it would be like. And I know full well I can never, ever be the man who takes her v-card…

  Still, a guy can dream, can’t he?

  Chapter Eleven

  Olivia

  “Hey.”

  I glance up from a mountain of papers that I am meticulously cataloguing in a notepad. I’ve dragged a table and a folding chair into the ballroom, and begun sifting through the stacks of paper, discarding the things I’m sure are trash.

  The stacks on the table in front of me are high enough that I have to push onto my tiptoes to see Aiden. He’s lounging in the doorway, looking as handsome as ever. My cheeks instantly begin to burn.

  The other day on the beach, I stormed off without so much as a backward glance. And yet here he is, in low slung blue jeans and a white tee shirt, looking unrepentant. I feel like such a fool, not just for admitting that I am a virgin, but for leaving like I did.

  Yet he seems unworried. Am I supposed to read into that?

  “Um.” I step around the table I’m using as my desk. Now there are only twenty or so stacks of books and papers between us, and none so tall as what is on my desk. “Hey.”

  “This is a lot of stuff,” he comments, looking around at all the neatly organized stacks I’ve created.

  Clearing my throat, I try to decide how to answer. I take a minute, working off the lightweight linen gloves I had on to protect the documents. “Yes, it is a lot. I’m starting from the oldest papers and working my way to the future. It’s proving to be interesting work.”

  He nods, looking around. “You weren’t kidding about the ballroom thing. It’s like Beauty and The Beast in here, except all dusty and stuff.”

  I turn, looking toward the wall of windows. Like everything in the ballroom, the windows are all done up in elaborate gold filigree and heavy royal blue drapes. However they are mostly broken and boarded up.

  “It could use some work,” I sigh. “Like almost everything in this house. Margaret keeps everything downstairs in good repair, but I don’t think the second or third floors have got much attention over the years. It’s been quite a while since the estate has had a handyman, I guess.”

  Aiden looks around. “For sure. I guess that after you’re done in here, I should come in here and fix the windows. Dust those chandeliers, put a fresh coat of paint on the walls, probably some wax on the floors… it’ll look like brand new.”

  I glance around speculatively. It’s hard to see what he sees. “You would know better than me I guess.”

  He nods. “By the way, you haven’t come across anything interesting in all this mess, have you?”

  He waves his hand to indicate the papers I’m working on. I shake my head.

  “Not yet, no. So far, I’m not even in the right century.” I set my gloves down on top of the documents I’ve been working on with a silent sigh.

  Aiden’s eyebrows lift. “The Morgan family is that old?”

  Warming to the subject, I smile. “Yes. The earliest record I have is from 1752. The Morgans were merchants back east, I guess. Then they moved out here sometime in the mid 1800s. From my what I can tell, Margaret’s great grandfather built this house in the 1870s, I think.”

  He thinks about that for a minute. “And you’re going to like… I don’t know, preserve those old records somehow?”

  I nod. “Yes. Once I do an inventory of it all and catalog it, I think the next step will be laying everything out on special paper and then putting it in plastic archival document casing. Basically I’ll wrap it all in plastic.”

  He scratches his cheek. “Cool. I mean, I don't know anything about it, but it sounds like you have a plan.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I reply, my tone teasing. “It’s almost like I sought this place out because Margaret was willing to give me hands on experience.”

  His lips curve.

  “Right.” He looks around. “I wonder what will happen to this place after Margaret… you know, after she can’t stay here anymore.”

  I shake my head. “God knows. I mean, this place is a gem, but you would have to really like living away from the city to consider living here. And that’s assuming that you even want to live in a place that hasn’t been maintained for years. I doubt that Carter will be interested in that.”

  Aiden seems thoughtful, nodding. Silence hangs in the air for a few moments after that, growing awkward. He sighs and squints off into the distance.

  “Listen… about the other day…”

  I fidget and my cheeks flame. That’s the last thing I want to talk about. “We don’t have to talk about it. I mean, if you don't want to.”

  A ghost of a smile lifts the corners of his lips. “I was just going to apologize. I didn’t mean to imply that you are dishonest. It’s just… when you told me that… you know, you’ve never been with anyone… I couldn’t believe it. I mean… look at you. It just seems… unreal.”

  Blushing intensely, I look down at myself. I’m wearing the same dress as the first day I got here, a white structured dress with a red collar and pockets. I don't see whatever he sees; all I notice when I look down is how much I lack.

  No breasts to speak of. I’m not especially tall, nor as petite as Grayson’s ex Rachel. I don’t have an ass. And frankly, I don't think I’m particularly beautiful either. I’m basically Kim Kardashian’s worst nightmare.

  When I look up at Aiden again though… the look in his dark eyes, the carnal interest, the way his muscular chest rises and falls a little bit faster than normal… it takes my breath away. I shake my head, looking down.

  “I don’t see what you see, but… thanks for the apology, I guess.”

  His huffed laughter draws my eyes back up. “You don’t think you’re hot?”

  My cheeks burn again.
My pulse begins to race and I swallow. “No. At best, I think I’m invisible. Guys like you usually look right through me. It’s always been that way for my entire life.”

  Aiden pushes himself off of the doorway, straightening to his full height. He looks fearsome just now, his face creasing into a frown.

  “Come here,” he commands. His eyes are throwing off sparks.

  My mouth goes dry. I gulp. “Me?”

  He beckons me over with one hand. “Right now. Come here. Don’t make me come get you.”

  His body language is telling me he’s dangerous. But I am curious, nevertheless. It’s like stepping closer to the edge of a crevasse. There is a bone deep calling to just know what it would be like to tumble over the side, to feel weightless for a moment, despite the danger.

  My heart is beating as frantically as a frightened rabbit. My whole body feels like it’s made of lead. I take one step toward him, then another. Pulled by some forces I cannot understand, I slowly cross the room.

  But I want badly to comprehend them. And there is some kind of answer within him. I know it.

  As soon as I am close enough, he reaches out and grabs me by the waist. I can’t breathe as I stare up into his face. I feel so small compared to Aiden, especially when he pulls my hips against his.

  Finally, a part of me thinks. I’ve been waiting to feel his lips against my skin for so, so long.

  When he cups my jaw and looks down at me with the fiercest expression on his face, the same part of me melts into his rough touch. I start to push up onto my tiptoes, my lips parting ever so slightly, my eyes beginning to close.

  Yes. Finally. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.

  Aiden angles my face just so, leaning down close. I feel his breath fanning my lips. Everything slows down, except for my racing heart.

  He whispers four words to me, four words that strip me to my very core. “I see you, Olivia.”

  He sees me.

  He thinks I’m attractive.

  I’m not invisible to this man who I’ve loved since before I knew what love was.

  Pushing myself up another inch, I find his lips. I barely brush mine against his; his lips are softer and warmer than I had imagined. In contrast, I’m pulled against his hard body. I think I feel the faint outline of his cock through his jeans.

  Yes, I think. You want me? Take me.

  Right here, right now. Show me all the things I’ve been missing.

  I start to open my mouth, to explore his lips more. A growl bursts from deep in Aiden’s chest.

  Maybe he needs this every bit as much as I do.

  Then Margaret’s voice interrupts us, calling from downstairs. “Olivia, dear? Can you hear me?”

  We both jump apart, my heart pounding. I stare at Aiden with wide eyes, and he glances away.

  “Shit,” he mumbles.

  What does that mean? I know a moment of lovesickness as I wonder whether he cursed because of the interruption or because he was doing something that he knew he shouldn’t have been doing.

  I am Grayson’s little sister, after all. Grayson would be beyond livid if he found out that we had kissed.

  “Olivia?”

  Another voice, this one younger and more masculine. Carter, if I had to guess.

  I clear my throat and raise my voice. “Yes?” I call to the door as I head toward the landing.

  There is the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. In a heartbeat, Carter climbs the steps, taking me in. A second later he frowns as he looks between me and Aiden.

  “Aiden.” He rumbles Aiden’s name like it’s a curse word.

  I see one side of Aiden’s mouth kick up into a cold smile. “Carter. We were just talking about you.”

  Carter’s eyebrows rise. “Is that right? Well… I wasn’t thinking about you. I was, however, thinking about Olivia.” He has just a hint of a sneer on his lips. “Olivia, my great aunt wants to know if you’d be interested in joining us for dinner in Port Angeles. That way you can catch her up on what you’ve found out.”

  “Oh, well…” I frown, glancing back to Aiden. “We were just… working on a project. You know, Aiden was doing, um… handyman stuff…”

  “I think we’re done,” Aiden says, his tone flat. His eyes bore into mine. “You had better go on ahead to town, Olivia. I’m alright being by myself.”

  Flustered, I don't know what to say. I feel like he’s talking about more than work, but I can't ask him with Carter here.

  Would I even ask him if it was just the two of us? Probably not.

  “Okay,” I say, straightening my dress. I walk toward Carter, looking back at Aiden. “I’ll be back.”

  Aiden just shrugs, his expression humorless.

  “Come on,” Carter says, ushering me down the stairs. “Aunt Margaret loves this place in Port Angeles and they close at four.”

  I head downstairs, my thoughts in a mess.

  I kissed Aiden. Not fully, but enough to make him growl. And I desperately want to kiss him again.

  But if his expression at the end was any indication, I shouldn’t count on it happening. I feel such jubilation and yet such disappointment, all at once. I sigh and let Carter escort me out the front door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Olivia

  Third Grade Year Of Primary School

  The sun is high and the day a bone-deep kind of cold the first time I meet Aiden.

  I’m shivering in my too-light, two sizes too big jacket as I race my fourth-hand bicycle in circles around the yard. We’re outside of the big, grungy gray building, the latest group home that my big brother Grayson and I have been placed in. The place has a falling apart jungle gym and a stack of pulled apart bike frames that have already been scavenged for the good parts.

  It’s pretty much the norm for these group homes. A sad-looking, scraggly yard. Metal bunkbeds that are bolted in place. Meals that are served in bulk on cafeteria trays to a roomful of kids who wolf down the canned green beans and microwaved fish sticks.

  See, foster kids aren’t picky about much. Because we don't have much idea what is going on or who is in charge, we don't know when or where our next meal will be. So we fill ourselves up and hope for the best.

  I’m in a good mood today. The sunlight seems extra bright, the colors especially vivid. Maybe because my mom is supposed to visit today.

  I circle my bike fast for a while, then slow down. Grayson looks up from his spot under the aluminum awning, squinting. He’s twelve and scruffy-looking, his dark hair grown too long. He has a grubby comic in one hand and a watchful gaze on his face.

  He is always watching out for me and making sure that when things are passed out, I get enough. Enough food, enough school supplies, enough room on the school bus that we ride five days a week. He seems to be the only one that cares, the only one that sees me. And Grayson doesn’t care about much, but he fights fiercely for me.

  He’s pretty serious for someone his age, but that’s all right. I stop my bike near him, looking at the sun to gauge what time it is. Letting my elbows rest on the handlebars, I let my hands dangle.

  “It’s almost lunch time,” I say.

  Grayson shuts his comic book with a sigh. “I know.”

  “Mom said she’d be here early. On the phone, she said to be ready as soon as we got up.”

  He shrugs. “You know the drill. If Mom comes—”

  “She’s coming,” I cut in.

  He pins me with his gaze. “You have to understand. If Mom comes, she’ll get here an hour before visiting hours are over. She’ll make a fuss when they tell her that she has to leave. She will promise us both all kinds of things, like how we are getting out of foster care and how much nice stuff we will have. But then she’ll go, and we won’t hear from her for a couple of weeks.”

  Hearing him say it is like a physical blow. Does he really think that way?

  I make a face. “You’re always saying stuff like that. You don't know. Maybe Mom means it this time. Maybe we will get
to go home.”

  He looks skeptical. “To what? Having no idea where she is? Not knowing when there will be food in the house? Scraping together change for the bus fare just to look for her? No thanks.”

  He crosses his arms and looks pissed. I’m not sure what to say, so I just wrinkle my nose. Grayson looks at me and I see guilt creeping onto his face.

  “I’m sorry, Olive. Maybe Mom has changed.”

  But I’m not stupid. I can tell from the way he looks away that he doesn’t really believe it. I don't know how to argue with him. I don't know how to change his mind.

  Luckily, we are both saved from figuring it out because that is the moment when an older boy rides his brand-new bike into the group home’s yard. He has short, dark hair, a lanky build, and his jeans and black fleece pullover look new. He’s wiry in a way that says he’ll be a man soon.

  But not quite yet. The look on his handsome face is amused, though what we’ve done to make him laugh is questionable.

  As he drops his bike carelessly in the yard and walks over, I can almost feel the shame that Grayson has over his rumpled, thirdhand hoodie and his light washed jeans. He tries to hide it, but he looks uncomfortable in his skin when he looks at the other boy.

  “Hey,” the other kid says with a nod. He comes up, casting his gaze over me for the barest second.

  Grayson clears his throat. “Hey. Aiden, this is my little sister Olivia.”

  Under Aiden’s renewed gaze, I turn pink, though I’m not sure why. “Hi.”

  “Aiden plays soccer on the team I joined last summer,” Grayson says, filling me in. “He lives in the big house that we always pass on the way to school.”

  Aiden rolls his eyes with a grin. “It’s not that big.”

  I eye Aiden suspiciously. “You live in the white house with the big columns? That place is huge.”

  He rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “I bet everything looks huge to you. You’re tiny. How old are you?”

  Straightening, I cross my arms. “Eight. How old are you?”

  The question is blunt and it makes Aiden’s cheeks color. “Fourteen. I’ve uh… I’ve been held back a few times.”