“Talk, Aiden,” I say, but my voice doesn’t come out as strong as I would’ve liked. “You’ve seen naked women before. This should be nothing new to you.” I wave with contempt at my body. Anger bubbles up in my chest. I’ll throw myself willingly off a bridge right now, just show me to the nearest one.
It looks as if I’ve hit him. He jumps off the counter, and in one swift movement he’s right in front of me. Panic hits hard. I’ve pushed him too far! That bridge is looking awfully good right now.
“Is that what you think?” His voice drops low, like real low. “You think I rejected you? You think I didn’t want it as well?” He looks up at the ceiling as if he’s saying a silent prayer, and I’m thinking maybe I should say one too. “Emma!” he groans my name and grab my hips, yanking me against him so I can feel how hard he is. “That is how hot you are. This is how much I want you. This is…” He breathes hard, and I can only stare at him in wonder, my tongue in knots. “And then you look at me like that and I just want to fall into you until there’s nothing left of me.”
I breathe. I blink. Words fail me, which is a good thing, because I seem to have a knack for bodging things up around him. Instead, I lift myself up on my toes until I can feel his breath on my lips. My heart is pounding frantically in my chest. I’m nervous and I glance at his eyes one more time, they are dark, not soft, but smoldering with want.
I have to stop thinking so much! I press my mouth against his, and that’s exactly what I do, I stop thinking, because there’s only him.
“I still need to shower,” I finally manage to whisper, and he laughs.
He gets into the shower with me and that’s all we do. Just soft touches and showering. Afterwards he orders pizza, and every time he takes a slice, he puts one on my plate. I stop him after the third one.
“I’m not you. You’re twice my size,” I joke, and finish off the piece on my plate. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll get tomorrow’s.” Because there is no way I’m going to be a leech.
I carry the plates to the kitchen and wash them up. When I go and sit with him again, he pulls me in, tucking my head in under his chin. I curl up against his side, relishing the feeling of having his arms around me.
Then he says, “I haven’t finished talkin’ yet,” I stiffen slightly. “When I came back tonight you were asleep, and I saw that piece you wrote about hate. I really hope you’re not talkin’ about me there,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t work.
I just shake my head. I really don’t want to have this conversation.
“I saw somethin’ earlier and it reminded me of something your mother said, and I could really kick myself for not thinkin’ of it sooner. When she said she’s cuttin’ you off-”
I jump up and walk away. I’m definitely not having this conversation with him.
“Emma, wait,” he calls after me.
I close the door behind me and look at my laptop. It’s showing my monthly expenses, not my paper.
“How could you, Aiden! You looked at my expenses?” I say, mortified. I facepalm myself. Over and over and over, because I need to feel something else other than the humiliation coursing through my veins.
“Emma, I said I’d help,” he says on the other side of the door. “I told you to come to me if you needed anythin’.”
I yank the door open and my cheeks are flaming hot. They. Are. On. Fire.
“You said it yourself, you’re not my father! I don’t need another one! I’m not going to take anything from you. Oh my … oh … this is so wrong. On so many levels.” I wave my hand up and down, and my cheeks keep getting hotter. It feels like I’ve swallowed a whole bloody furnace. “You’re not paying for a single thing. The second you pay for something, it makes me a whore. I feel cheap enough. I gave you the only thing that was mine. You’re not bloody paying for it.”
I slam the door closed, lock it and sink down against it, and I cry. For the first time I cry, awful, gut-wrenching sobs. They hurt my stomach and make me want to gag. I’ve always cried silently, because my mum would go at me more and more if I made a noise. But she’s not here, and this hurts. For the first time something hurts more than my mother. My heart is breaking, and I wasn’t even sure I had one.
~*~
I crawl to bed, and just slump down on top of the cover. I’m too spent to care. My cheeks are wet when I fall asleep, and they’re wet when I wake up, whimpering. I hit and claw at my arm, trying to rid myself of my mother’s touch that’s still so fresh in my mind and on my skin. Her pasty, alcohol-drenched skin makes me sick.
I get up, not wanting to fall asleep again. When I open my door, I slam into Aiden. His arms wrap around me, and he picks me up against his chest.
“You’re ice cold. Don’t ever lock that door again. I swear I’ll break it open next time you do that to me,” he says hoarsly. There’s no anger in his voice, only concern.
He takes me to his room, throws back the cover and puts me down. Then he leaves me.
“Aiden?” It comes out a whimper.
Maybe I heard his tone wrong, and he is angry after all.
“I’m right here,” he says immediately, and comes back with a sweater. “Let’s get this on you first.”
I slip his sweater on, while he gets in next to me. He pulls me in against his chest and curls his body around mine.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he says. His breath fans warm over my face, and I press my hands to his chest, replacing the lingering touch of my mother with him. “We will have fights, but you can’t close the door on me and not let me make it better. You can’t go to bed cryin’.” He sounds desperate, and I wrap my arms around him. “Something could happen and we could never have the chance to make it better.”
“Alright,” I say, to pacify him, and I hold him tighter.
His hand caresses my back, and then they move up, brushing past my neck and into my hair. He takes hold of some and tugs lightly.
“Emma.” When I look up at him, his eyes jump all over my face. It looks like he wants to kiss me, but he doesn’t. “I’ve been thinkin’.” He leans closer and my stomach tightens with anticipation. His breath rushes over my lips, setting off tiny tingles everywhere. “The past two weeks, not knowing whether you were out there with someone nearly had me losin’ against Joe, of all people, on Saturday. I can’t be worryin’ about men comin’ on to you, and try and work this case. There will be blood either way.” I’m distracted by his mouth so close to mine. I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
There’s a muscle jumping above his jaw. He’s looks way too tense. I lean in and press my mouth to the muscle. His hand tightens in my hair, and he brings the other to my neck. He holds my mouth to his jaw and I can’t control my breathing as it increases. He slowly brushes his jaw against my mouth, and when he stops I press another kiss to the side of his chin. My insides curl with want – I want him to kiss me so badly.
“Emma, don’t see anyone else.” The words stun me.
His mouth brushes over mine, our breaths mingle for a moment, and then he kisses me. It’s not like all the previous ones, it’s lingering and deep. His body presses against mine until I’m on my back. His hand smooths down my neck, and he follows the straps of my top to my chest, but he stays in the safe zone, just caressing my sensitive skin.
He breaks the kiss and I have to stop myself, so as not to grab him. The feelings he brings to life inside me are overwhelming at times – and I want to feel so much more.
His eyes caress my face and drop to where his hand is resting on my chest, still in the safe zone. Then he says, “I can’t stand the thought of someone else touchin’ you.”
All the glorious prickles evaporate.
“You didn’t listen to me,” I whisper, and I wonder if he has heard anything I’ve said at all.
He eyes drift back up to mine. “I did, but one might come along that you’re okay with.”
“I doubt that very much.” He still looks worried. “Aiden, I can’t even bring myself to sha
ke someone’s hand without it making me feel sick. This-” I place my hand against his chest, hoping that I’m making sense, “is all new. You know that feeling you get when you finally crawl into bed after a long day, when your body just melts into the covers, right before you drift off?”
“Yes.” His hand leaves my chest and cups my face.
“That peaceful feeling, knowing you can let go of everything for a few hours – that is what I feel when I touch you.” That’s the best I can do to tell him I feel safe with him.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, and the word warms me, “what did she do to you?”
Emotions swamp me from every side, some burning hotter than others. Embarrassment is fighting hard to come out on top, with dread following close on its heels.
I try to duck my head, but he tightens his hold on me, tilting his face lower to catch my eyes.
“Nothing,” I say, because I don’t want to rattle on like I did the other day.
His thumb skims over my cheek. “It doesn’t sound like nothing, sure didn’t look like it.”
“She…” What? How do I describe my mother to him? “I’ve told you already. She drinks. She talks, a lot.” It doesn’t sound as bad saying it. Chloe is living through far worse than me right now. I’m just a coward, a mental coward.
“Okay. When you’re ready, you come and talk to me,” he says. He places a quick, soft kiss on my lips. “But you still haven’t answered me, about not seeing anyone.”
“Aiden,” I smile a daft-looking smile. This is going to sound so silly, but it’s all I can think of to say to appease him. “I’ve never had one, but I’d fancy it if you’d be my boyfriend. I really don’t want to see anyone else.”
“I thought you were never going to ask. Is it a British thing to keep stringin’ a guy along?” he jokes. “You can drive a man crazy like that.”
“Crazy?” I gasp, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know that I did no such thing. I’m a good girl, I am.”
“I love the way you talk,” he whispers, and my smile fades at hearing the word ‘love’. “I love the way you chew on the inside of your bottom lip when you’re thinkin’,” he smiles, “and when you’re having coffee you stand with one foot on top of the other, always. It’s cute.”
I swallow hard, but the tears push up to my eyes. I try to blink them away.
“I love the way you speed-walk and speed-shop. I love how you don’t take hours to get ready. Sometimes you even beat me.”
I laugh, and duck my head to his chest.
“I love how you fit perfectly in my arms, and how you know what an eagle means to me. I love how expressive you are, Emma.” He pulls my face from his chest, and I swallow at the tears before I say it.
“Love is such a petty thing, Aiden. It destroys.” His grip on me tightens. “Wait, let me finish. What I feel for you goes way beyond that petty word. I’m consumed by you. I feel defensive of you. I desire you.” His eyes caress my face, and follow the tears that I can’t keep back any more. “Love is really such a petty word for what I feel. Don’t ever ask me to say it.”
~*~
I don’t feel too bad the next morning. I’m glad it’s almost the weekend, so I can work on my paper.
I go from one class to the next, but come lunchtime, I feel dizzy with withdrawal symptoms. I’m nauseous and tired, and just bloody groggy.
I’m back to singing my dying mantra when my head starts to ache. And for the first time, I regret not having my phone with me. I wish I could phone Aiden. I really don’t have the strength to walk to the bus stop now.
When my tongue becomes one with the roof of my mouth, I drag myself to the nearest water fountain. I gulp some down and look at the bench nearby. There’s no point in sitting and waiting for it to get better. It will only get worse.
“Emma, honey, are you okay?” I hear a familiar drawl, and honestly I don’t care if she’s Hitler’s second in command, I’m just glad to see someone I know.
“Katia. No, actually I feel quite horrid,” I admit. Getting to know her might help Aiden too. “You couldn’t give me a ride home, perhaps?” It feels like I’m fighting gravity to stay upright.
“Of course,” she almost sings. She presses up against me, her arm circling my waist. I let her, because she’ll keep me from making a total arse of myself and face-planting on the way to her car. “You poor thing, you’re so pale. Is someone at home?”
“Aiden will be home soon.” I hope.
“I’m so glad I ran into you. You’re hard to find,” she says, and I really just want to get to bed. “The girls are having a little get-together tomorrow night. Without the men, of course. You have to come. Seeing as you’re with Aiden, you have to get to know everyone,” she babbles non-bloody-stop.
I nod. I swallow the bile back. I shouldn’t have had the water.
“Sure.” I squeeze the word out.
“Honey, you really do look sick,” she says, as if I don’t know it.
She’s strong. Crikey, she’s strong. Her arm tightens around me and she takes most of my weight. I lean my head on her shoulder and try to remember never to look for trouble with her.
“Here come the guys,” she says. The sun is too bright, and I know if she lets go now I’m going to face-plant. “So, if you’re up for it, I’ll see you tomorrow night?” she asks quickly.
I nod and she starts to draw away.
“Katia,” I say to keep her close to me, but she keeps moving. I take hold of her arm to steady myself.
“Emma?” Aiden’s voice is sharp.
I squint in his direction but the light is too bright. I close my eyes so all the spinning will stop.
“Hey, guys,” her voice echoes through my head.
I press my head to her shoulder to ease the throbbing. She rubs my back, and I swallow to keep the bile down as it turns in my stomach.
“She’s not well. I found her at the Old Well. Poor baby looks terrible.” And then I feel her stroking my hair, and my body jerks.
“I’ll take her,” I hear Aiden.
Strong hands take hold of my arms, and they pull me away from Katia, who is keeping my head from splitting open, but making me feel sicker, all at once.
“Ouch.” The groan slips out, and I press my palm to my eyes as arms slip under my back and knees, and then the world capsizes on me.
“I have you, sweetheart,” he whispers against my splitting head.
Even though I feel absolutly horrid, his words settles deep inside of me, warming the darkest parts of me.
~*~
I stay exactly the way he puts me down on the bed. I don’t move. If I move I’m going to be sick.
“Can I get you somethin’?” he asks.
“Could you close the curtains, please. I feel like a bat.” I’ve resorted to mumbling into the pillow.
“You don’t look good. Please will you let me take you to a doctor?” It’s the second time he’s asking.
“No, it will pass.” I have to stop talking. I’m going to start drooling on the pillow if I don’t keep my mouth closed. “It’s just withdrawal symptoms.”
The bed moves as he sits down, and my stomach heaves.
I jump up and my head splits open. I run into the corner of the shower, stagger back and arse-plant on the floor. Luckily the loo is close to me. I hunch forward and my body heaves. It hurts my head and stomach, and I start to cry, which makes it worse. Nothing is coming out. It’s only dry heaving, and it’s making me feel terrible. I feel hot and cold all at once.
“Is there nothin’ I can do?” he asks, from next to me on the floor.
I shake my head slowly, so I don’t make it worse. It feels like my stomach has settled a bit, and I slide back, lying down on the cold tiles. I need to lie down.
Aiden’s phone rings, and the sound is loud. “Not now,” he whispers. “Can I take you back to bed?”
“I don’t want to move,” I mumble miserably, but I reach for him anyway. “Thank you for caring. I’ll make it
up to you.” And I will. I’ll help him solve his case.
~*~
Chapter Twelve
Aiden~
Seeing Emma with Katia damn near gave me a heart attack. Seeing Emma so pale makes me hate her mother even more. Hate is a strong emotion. One I’m getting to know because of Emma. My parents taught me how to love. Emma’s teaching me how to hate. But that’s not entirely true. A woman I’ve never met face to face is teaching me how to hate. Not Emma. I’m not sure what she’s is teaching me yet.
I watch her sleep after the long night she’s had, and I open her laptop. I click on her media player and select the first song, so her personalized album will start playing. We haven’t talked about simple stuff like music and movies yet.
That song she likes so much is up first. Wake me up. I let it play while I stare at her paper. The next song is Passenger’s, Let her go. It’s a sad song.
I start to type on her paper. Just something for her.
If you want to forget something or someone, never hate it, or never hate him/her. Everything and everyone that you hate is engraved upon your heart; if you want to let go of something, if you want to forget, you cannot hate ~ C. JoyBell C.
Hate creates. From hate revulsion and revenge are born. From hate death is born. Hate creates devastation and heartache. Hatred consumes until there is nothing left but an empty shell of the former self. From there outrage and brutality are born. Hate creates an act of violence be it against another or yourself, because somehow, somewhere, something dies.
“What are you doing?” I hear her groggy voice next to me.
“Just writing something for you.”
She sits up next to me and I wait while she reads it. She nods and leans in to me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. “Morning. Can I bring you some coffee while you listen to the next one?”
I smile and bring up the media player. Imagine Dragons, Demons
I listen to the song while she’s busy in the kitchen.
Wake Me Up (Love Knows No Boundaries) Page 13
