by Kent, Rina
“What was that all about?” I ask Aiden once he’s seated in the driver’s seat.
“Nothing important.”
“Do you always have Cole take care of your girl problems?”
He gives me an ‘are you serious’ look. “No one can make Nash do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
“Not even you?”
“Not even me.” He pauses. “Besides, Silver is his step-sister. He knows how to deal with her best.”
“His… what?”
“His mother and her father are getting married.”
Woah. I must be really out of it when it comes to school news. I knew Silver’s parents were divorced, but I didn’t know she was going to be Cole’s step-sister. They have completely different personalities. I wonder how that will go.
The engine revs to life, and I clench my thighs at the vibrations. It’s such a strange, thrilling sensation.
Aiden’s lips pull in a mischievous grin. “You like that, don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says with a mocking edge.
Dickhead.
As we weave out of the car park, Aiden threads his fingers through mine, and places our intertwined hands on his hard thigh.
My breathing cracks at the amount of tenderness in his touch. It’s almost… normal. His side profile oozes so much masculine beauty. Tingles start between my legs and the engine’s vibrations don’t help.
“Where are we going?” I ask to distract myself from ogling him.
“You’ll see.”
I narrow my eyes. “Where to, Aiden?”
“Not to a slaughterhouse. I won’t go all serial killer on you.”
I can’t help but laugh. He winks, squeezing my fingers in his.
“By the way,” He glances at me. “Why don’t you come to Elites’ games?”
“Eh… I don’t go to school games.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You only go to Premier League games, Miss Snob?”
“No. It’s…” I want to say I don’t like Elites, but that would be a lie. I hated them before, but now, I have no reason to.
“If you come to a game, I’ll take you somewhere special.”
“Where?”
“You’ll have to agree first.”
“Why do you even want me to come? Your Instagram stalkers aren’t enough?”
His grin widens. “If you know about them, then you must’ve been stalking me, too.”
My cheeks heat. “That’s not true.”
“Hmm. You’re one of those silent stalkers, aren’t you?” he continues in a contemplative tone. “You stalk all the time without liking or commenting as if you’re a ghost.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“Silent stalkers are the scariest.” He throws me an amusement gleam. “Do you fantasise about me, sweetheart?”
Yes. But screw him.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I sulk.
“A place you’ll love.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Turns out the place I’ll love is Arsenal.
No shit. Freaking Arsenal.
And I’m not talking about watching practice like the rest of the fans. As soon as the players headed inside, Aiden guided me to the locker room. I stood there like a gaping idiot as I stared at my favourite players. Alexandre Lacazette. Maitland-Niles. Monreal. Levi King. Freaking Ozil.
Then I got out of my stupor and asked to take selfies with as many of them as possible — including Coach Emery.
I stare in a stupor at the picture while Aiden and I sit for an early dinner. We’re in the same coffee shop-restaurant as the other time. There’s some indistinct chatter coming from downstairs. It’s quiet at the top level. Only the older gentleman from the other time sits near the window, reading a book, and sipping from his coffee.
My fingers flick over my phone. I can’t believe I smiled like a normal human being and didn’t actually lick the guys. Ozil even had an arm over my shoulder.
“Uncle will be sooo jealous when I show him these.” I absentmindedly sip from my orange juice. “I’m so going to gloat about meeting my idols.”
“Are you done?” Aiden doesn’t sound amused. He’s been in a pissy mood since he practically dragged me out of the locker room.
I peel my gaze from the phone to him. He removed his RES jacket, remaining in the white T-shirt with his cuffs rolled to his elbows. The view of his strong forearms and the tattoos gets me every time. He’s stuffing French fries in his mouth and glaring at my phone.
He doesn’t seem impressed with my enthusiasm, but I smile at him anyway. Meeting Arsenal’s players is such a geeky moment in my life. I didn’t even think it was possible unless I hoard in front of the stadium for years and hope to catch a picture.
However, with the right connections and the King last name, anything can be possible. Aiden said Arsenal’s president is a family friend. Of course, he is. Otherwise, Aiden wouldn’t have been able to waltz me right into the team’s locker room.
“Thanks for taking me there,” I say. “It made my day. No, my year!”
He grunts in response and continues shoving French fries down his throat. “Stop staring at your phone and eat. You haven’t touched your food.”
“Oookay. You sound just like Aunt.” I place my phone on the table and dive into my salad. “What are you so upset about?”
“Are you acting like you don’t know?”
“Uh… not really? You seem to have your knickers in a twist since the locker room.”
“Don’t idolise other men in front of me. I don’t like it.”
A burst of laughter slips from my throat. “Are you jealous, mighty King?”
“Damn straight I’m jealous. I’m so possessive of you, it drives me fucking crazy.”
I bite back a grin and try to stuff it with a forkful of salad. Is it so wrong that I love driving him crazy? I’m getting high on this feeling and like any junkie, I want more.
“Is that why you punched Xander and threatened Cole?”
He pauses eating, eyes squinting the slightest bit before he flashes me the devil’s threatening smile. “Do you think it’s fun to antagonise me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that why you pulled that show with Nash earlier?”
“Cole and I were discussing philosophical theories.”
“Like?”
My head tilts. Cole said that Sartre’s book, Nausea, belongs to Aiden.
I still don’t think he’s the type who’d be interested in philosophy.
“Existentialism,” I say. “Ever heard of it?”
“Boring and illogical. Next?”
I play with my fork on the plate. If he thinks it’s boring and illogical, he wouldn’t have kept a copy of Nausea. I sure as hell returned mine to the library as soon as I was finished with it.
“Have you ever read any book by Jean-Paul Sartre?” I prompt.
“A few.” He’s quiet for a long time that I think he’s done talking. “My mother had a thing for French philosophers.”
What happened to her?
The question hovers at the tip of my tongue, but I doubt that he’ll answer it, and I don’t want to sound pushy, so I ask, “What else did she like?”
“Me.” He smiles, seeming lost in his own thoughts. “I think I’m the only person she liked.”
“How about your father?”
“Maybe at some point, but I never witnessed it. She dissociated from Jonathan as much as he dissociated from her. His work came first. His brother, Lev and I came second. She was always last.”
My heart aches at an image of a young Aiden and his mum being ignored by his father for work. But at that time, he at least had his mother. Maybe his transformation started after he lost her. Which means that I’m right to assume Alicia King’s death played a significant role in shaping his deviant personality.
“I understand what it means
to have workaholic parents,” I say sympathetically.
“Your real parents were workaholics?”
“I don’t know.” A slash of pain grips me whenever they’re mentioned. Maybe this is also how Aiden feels when he talks about his mother.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I told you, I don’t remember my life prior to the fire. The only parents I remember are Aunt Blair and Uncle Jaxon.”
A contemplative look looms over his features. It disappears so fast that I wouldn’t have noticed it if I weren’t watching him so intently. “I see.”
“It sucks to have workaholic parents.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Not really. Jonathan can be workaholic all he likes. I’m leaving for college anyway.”
I chew on the salad before speaking. “Are you going to pursue football professionally?”
He laughs and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “You truly think Jonathan King will allow his only son to be a football player?”
“But he let your cousin.”
“On the condition that he simultaneously studies at a university.”
“Oh.”
“I like football, but it was never my endgame. It’s a short career and is insignificant in the great scheme of things. Jonathan and I agree on that.”
I go back to picking at my food. “Then what are your plans for college?”
“Oxford.” He appears bored.
My fork stills against the plate. Invisible hands grip my chest. Why does knowing that we’ll be on different sides of the country hurt so much?
I force a smile. “Wow. You really need to work hard for that.”
“Why do you think I stay in the top five per cent?” He winks.
Sometimes, I forget that he’s one of the top students in RES. “Does your father throw a word with the teachers?”
“My father doesn’t need to throw any word. They’d do it on their own.” He sips from his cola. “I don’t need the push, though. I can get the grades.”
“Really?” I sound as suspicious as I feel. “I don’t see you study even during the finals.”
He chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief. “You are stalking me.”
“I’m just saying that those in the top ten per cent care more about their grades than you do.”
“That’s because you guys work hard instead of working smart. What will slaving for grades give you?”
“I don’t know.” I mock. “Good universities?”
“And then what? Elite jobs. An expensive house in an upper-class neighbourhood. German cars. Wife. Kids. The whole cliché. What after?”
He seems bored with the whole list, but then again, why wouldn’t he? Since his birth, he already knows he’ll have it all without making any effort. He was destined to be King Enterprises heir.
Someone else might’ve felt the pressure, but Aiden is the opposite. He lives for challenges, so the whole mapped out future must look so dull in his eyes.
“If it were up to you, what would you have done?” I ask.
He lifts his head abruptly as if he’s been taken by surprise, then grins. “Kidnap you into my cave.”
“I’m serious.” I hit his leg underneath the table and take a sip of water to soothe my dry throat.
“I’m also serious. You’re the only thing that breaks the endless vicious cycle.”
I choke on the water and it splatters all around the table and my jacket.
Aiden laughs and offers me a napkin. “Jesus.”
Instead of giving me the napkin, he reaches over and wipes my cheeks and around my mouth while I stare at him.
Somewhere in between, the napkin slips away and he grazes my cheeks with his fingers. Then he dips them down to my bottom lip, tracing them with the tip of his fingers as his smouldering gaze devours my mouth.
Each stroke is like a lightning bolt to my aching core. My thighs clench in a futile attempt to chase away the throb.
“Aiden…”
“Hmm, sweetheart?” His attention never leaves my lips.
“We’re in public.” My whisper is barely audible over the erratic beat of my heart.
“I’m not even kissing you,” he says in a slightly husky tone. “I’m only wiping away the water ever so innocently.”
Yeah, right.
I try to control my breathing and fail. “Nothing about you is innocent.”
“But there’s so much innocence about you, sweetheart.” He leans in to whisper in hot sultry words. “And I’m tempted to tarnish it.”
That should scare me, and maybe it would have a few weeks ago, but now, I can only feel myself falling harder and faster than anyone should. My nipples tighten and I’m so glad that the uniform’s jacket is thick enough to conceal my reaction to him and his words.
Something flashes in my peripheral vision. My head snaps to the window, but there’s no one there except for the man who’s still reading from his book and sipping his coffee.
“What is it?” Aiden puts two fingers under my chin and turns me back to face him.
“I swear someone was watching us just now.”
“I would’ve seen them. No one is out there.”
“I must be imagining things.” I stand up, still trying to fight the throb between my thighs. “I’m going to the washroom.”
I leave before Aiden makes me sit on his lap or something crazier.
In the empty washroom, I remove my jacket and put it under the hand dryer.
I’m not even a minute in when the door to the washroom clicks opens.
I feel him before I see him.
Or maybe it’s because of his distinctive clean scent mixed with his unique body odour.
The hand dryer’s sound cuts off when I remove my jacket and face Aiden.
He leans against the closed door and reaches behind his back to lock it. The pitch-black look in his eyes starts a riot at the bottom of my stomach.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as if someone can hear us.
He abandons the door and strides towards me with sure, wide steps.
My heart flutters, and my nails dig into the jacket. “This is the ladies’ —”
My words die in my throat when his lips crush to mine in an all-consuming kiss. It’s hard and angsty and so passionate. The jacket slips from my hands and falls to the counter.
My back hits the wall with a thud. It’s painful and delicious at the same time.
Aiden places both hands under my arse and lifts me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist and my soft curves clash against his hard muscles like it always belonged there.
Like it’s a blasphemy that we didn’t do this before.
“Aiden…” I try to argue, but he wraps a hand around my throat and kisses me savagely, nipping at my bottom lip, and killing any protest I have.
Screw public places.
Screw everything.
“You don’t idiolise other men in front of me and expect me to do nothing about it,” he grunts, biting my lip. “You’re lucky I didn’t fuck you in front of them.”
His tongue thrusts inside and I let him. My fingers thread into his hair and I let him consume me.
Own me.
Ruin me.
I don’t care anymore as long as he makes me feel this consuming passion.
“You’re fucking everything up,” he says roughly before claiming my lips again while yanking my skirt up to my waist.
I try to help with his belt but it’s awkward with this position. To my defence, I never had sex against the wall in a public washroom.
Aiden lets go of my throat. He yanks down both his trousers and his boxers with one hand and shoves my underwear down with the other.
I grind against his erection, chasing the throb between my shaking thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck, my movements turning frantic and uncoordinated.
“Fuck me, Aiden.”
His face morphs in surprise before he curses. His features tighten with furious lust and someth
ing else I can’t figure out.
“Fuck, Elsa.” He slams inside me in one agonising go.
I shriek but he swallows the sound with his mouth against mine.
The harsh, unyielding strokes of his tongue match the maddening rhythm of his thrusts.
My limbs go into a puddle and my heart almost leaps out of my chest.
The threat of someone walking in on us doesn’t water down my wild need for him. If anything, it makes it even more animalistic and out of control.
I don’t last long. I can’t.
When he wraps a hand around my throat and squeezes, I come hard. I bite Aiden’s shoulder to muffle the hoarse scream.
Aiden grunts against my neck, sucking on the skin, as he spills inside me.
We’re locked around each other against the washroom’s wall. Our breaths come in and out in a frenzy and the air mingles with the scent of us.
I can’t believe I just had sex in a public place.
I smile, a genuine happy smile.
I never felt so alive.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Weeks pass and with each passing day, I wander deeper into Aiden’s maze.
It’s not bad. It’s just... surreal.
Everyone has demons. Aiden’s are just darker and meaner.
It takes a lot to get used to his mindfuckery and manipulative streak. It takes a lot to see past the façade and into his true image.
For one, Aiden is the jealous type. When we sit for lunch, his teammates try to keep all contact to a minimum. All except for the three horsemen — especially Xander. I swear he doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation.
The three of them are actually fun to hang out with. They’re the only people around Aiden who aren’t scared of him and who don’t bow down to his royal decrees like the rest of RES.
Aiden carries my books as we get out of the library. A few students stop and murmur about us in the hallway, but I’m starting to get used to the attention.
His phone vibrates and since he has his hands filled with books, I sigh and retrieve it from his back pocket for him. “I can carry my own books, you know.”
He arches a teasing eyebrow. “If you do, you won’t touch me inappropriately at school like now.”
