My body is at war. My common sense is telling me to retreat before whatever this is gets out of hand, and every other part of me is screaming to just enjoy every blissful second. Knowing her limited experience, I’m desperate to maintain enough control to respect her boundaries. But as her soft hands explore my back and arms, her touch doesn’t feel reserved. The way she’s pushing her body into mine is almost aggressive.
I slide my hands down her body to the curve of her hips. She releases a soft moan, inviting more. Desperate for contact, I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt, finally touching the silky skin of her toned stomach. I’m debating how to ask permission to move forward when she pulls away. She crosses her arms, grabs the bottom of her shirt, and pulls it off.
She leans in to kiss me, but I pull away so I can take in her glory. I can hardly breathe, let alone contain my desire. Until I see her face. She looks self-conscious, something I’ve never seen on her before.
“What?” she asks.
I realize my horrific misstep and commit to rectifying it. I lean forward and kiss her shoulder. I continue placing soft, tender kisses along her collarbone and up her neck to her ear. After sucking gently on her earlobe, I whisper, “You’re breathtaking.”
Her body shivers, and she bites her lip, no longer looking nervous. With the desire burning in her eyes, I expect another collision of lips and tongues, but Ari never does what’s expected.
She flashes a wanton smirk and pushes me backward so my back is pressed against the headboard. She throws her leg over mine, straddling me. She runs her tongue down my neck, making my whole body tense with excitement. The more I tense, the more she pushes onto me. It’s blissful torture for my cock. I feel her heat through the layers of clothing separating us, taunting my resolve to go slowly.
Needing to touch her, I place both hands on her hips and slowly move north. The swells of her breasts fill my hands, and her breath hitches. My fingertips explore until I find her nipples and rub them until they form tight buds. She throws her head back, exposing her neck and spectacular breasts. Unable to hold back, I pull her nipple into my mouth, devouring her. With each lick and suck, her moans intensify, and she grinds against my dick. Judging from the state of my boxers, I can only guess her shorts are soaked with her excitement. The more I flick her nipple with my tongue, the louder her moans get.
While I feast on her breasts, my hands roam to her ass, causing her moans to go up an octave. Her gyrations intensify. She leans backward and her nipple is pulled from my mouth. Her hands cup my face and pull my lips to hers. Every inch of her body pushes into mine. Between her heat over my boxers and her pebbled nipples rubbing my chest, my body is in sensory overload. The passion ignited between us has taken on a life of its own.
“More,” she moans into my mouth.
I pull back and search her eyes. Surely she can’t mean what she’s saying.
She rubs against me. “I need more.” It’s not a question—it’s clearly a demand.
“Ari, maybe—”
She kisses me, preventing me from being the voice of reason. She pulls back and stands. She hooks her thumbs into her shorts and starts to pull them down.
The moronic but sensible part of me speaks up. “Ari, maybe we should slow down. This is happening so fast.”
Her shorts fall to the floor, exposing every tanned, toned inch of her. I lose the ability to speak, which is okay because no words can describe her stunning beauty. Part of me wants to throw her down and fulfill every dirty thought running through my head. The other part just wants to stare at her.
She resumes her position straddling my lap. Looking me in the eye, she demands, “More.”
I’m not sure if she’s giving me permission or if she’s challenging me. I’m not sure I care. I wrap my arm around her and flip her onto her back. She lets out a sexy laugh that drives me wild.
Her knees are bent and slightly open, giving me access to lightly graze my fingers along her inner thigh. Her muscles tighten, and she bucks her hips gently. Before I make it to her apex, her hand touches my cock. Even through my shorts, her touch makes me feel as though I’m about to explode. Almost on impulse, I abandon my slow approach and slide my finger inside her. I probably lose points for being too eager, but I just have to touch her.
She reaches for me again and strokes my shaft. She kisses me, caressing my tongue in a way not unlike what she’s doing to my dick. I have to pull back, not wanting to come yet. Besides, I’d rather focus on her. My hand is drenched from fingering her. Her eyes are closed, and she looks euphoric. I’m fairly certain this is her first time doing anything, so I don’t expect her to come, but I want to do everything I can to make it enjoyable for her. My free hand moves to her breast, causing her to moan.
“More, Chase. I need more.”
The voice in my head tells me to stop. This is out of control and will probably end in the worst case of blue balls. Her need for more drowns out that voice though, and I continue to explore her body. She’s given me an all-access pass to a wonderland, and I can’t get enough. I need to feel all of her, taste every part. Her skin is so soft, I can’t help but kiss and lick every inch I can.
She reaches for me again, and I pull away, enjoying what I’m doing too much to stop. But I should know better than to deny Ari anything. She sits forward and reaches with both hands for my boxers. In one move, she uses my boxers to pull me back for a frenzied kiss. Then she pushes them down.
I pull back and look at her. “What are we doing? This is crazy.”
She smirks. “I know, and I’m not stopping. Are you?”
What is she saying? She can’t possibly mean she’s ready.
As if she can read my thoughts she says, “I want you inside me.”
There’s no way this is happening. This must be a dream. A very, very, very vivid dream. I’m sure I’ll wake up to find that she and I are still enemies who barely speak. While I mentally debate my hold on reality, her hand slides up my cock.
The last responsible part of me struggles to do the right thing. “Are you sure… Maybe we…” I can’t think straight while she’s caressing me.
“I’m sure,” she says with confidence. She lies back and parts her legs, inviting me to come to her.
I move closer and kiss her knee. I’m sure it appears my soft kisses down her thigh are part of my seduction, but I’m just scared out of my mind. I’m far more petrified than I was during my first time. This whole experience with her is like nothing I’ve ever felt. When we touch, it’s electric. I’m filled with so much lust I can barely contain it, yet this isn’t about the quickest way for me to get off. Just touching her, connecting with her brings a level of intensity I never knew existed. Our relationship has always been nothing but heat. Usually that means blind rage, but whatever is happening tonight is… I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want it to stop.
I bide my time, trying to pull myself together by kissing my way up to her mouth. Her kiss is demanding, ready. She pulls back and nods. As I lower myself to her, she closes her eyes. The second I enter her, I almost come. It’s as though I’ve found heaven. I dig deep to control myself, and I push forward ever so slowly. When I feel resistance, I open my eyes and look at her again.
“Are you sure?” I ask one final time. In part because I want to do the right thing, but also to give myself a second to calm down.
She nods, and I push forward. She winces, and I want to pull out.
My whole body tenses. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, don’t stop. I’m okay. It didn’t feel great, but it isn’t bad either. Just don’t stop.”
“We don’t have to.”
She opens her eyes. “I want to. I want this.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I got caught up.”
“Chase, shut up and just don’t stop.”
There’s no way I can last long. She just feels too damn good. She’s so tight and wet. Nothing has ever felt this good.
After a few short thrusts, I pull out so I don’t come inside her. I have no idea what it was like for her, but for me, it was amazing.
My body is still tingling when I kiss her. We kiss for what seems like forever. The unbridled passion has calmed, and now there is just tenderness.
“We should go clean up. We’re a bit messy,” I say between kisses. “Shower with me?”
She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Okay.”
In the bathroom, we take turns soaping each other, kissing and touching. All the fondling reignites the spark, turning the sweet tenderness into lust. She won’t admit it, but I imagine she’s too sore to go again. I manage to firmly draw the line this time. Her body sure is tempting, but I can’t do that to her.
After our shower, we lay in bed with my arm around her. I twirl her curls around my fingers.
“Chase?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“What… um… What do we… um…”
“I have no idea,” I reply. “I’m still wrapping my head around what just happened. That was the single most extreme thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m still coming down from the high.”
She doesn’t respond. If she asks again, I have no idea what I’ll say. Now that the passion has cooled, I start to panic. Is she regretting it? Is she in pain? What if this makes her hate me more than she did? What if we never do it again? I start to ask her how she’s feeling, but she’s already asleep.
I wake up hours later to an empty hotel room. She’s gone without a trace.
Chapter Four
Arianna
Whoever thought to put a bar next to a building full of shrinks was a genius. As I look around at the other patrons, I’m curious which ones have spent part of their day discussing all the heartbreaking parts of their life.
I’m waiting for Charlie. She claims she’s coming for moral support, but I really think she’s hoping to get more details about Chase and me, since I’m finally willing to discuss the subject. She knows all the broad strokes, but none of the finer points. Or less-than-finer points as the case may be. Why she wants to know this stuff about her brother is beyond me, but Charlie’s always had a morbid curiosity.
I’m scrolling through my phone when two men sit next to me on either side.
“Are you Arianna Aldrich?”
I flash him my best picture smile. “Yes.”
“Whoa, it’s really you! That’s crazy!” the taller of the two says.
“Hey, do you remember that time you took over SportsCenter? You were awesome, for a chick,” the shorter of the two says.
No, dumbass, I don’t recall doing that. Please, fill me in. I frequently forget key moments of my life. What kind of question is that? I hate it when men are shocked that I can actually discuss sports. I’m an athlete, for Christ’s sake. Since I can’t say that, I simply say, “Thank you. That was my twenty-first birthday present from the president of the network. I’m amazed you saw it; it was the three a.m. show. I think the ratings said, like, twelve people watched it, and ten of them were probably related to me.”
“We were up,” they say in unison.
“I couldn’t believe how well you knew football,” the tall one says.
I scan the room, hoping Charlie will walk through the door and save me from this conversation. “Having grown up with my father, I know football better than tennis, if you can believe that.”
“Whoa,” they say with wide eyes, as though they’re looking at the Holy Grail.
The shorter of the two notices the tennis playing on the TV above the bar. “Why aren’t you playing?”
“I retired earlier this year.” I point at my leg. “Knee injury.”
“Oh. That must suck, huh?”
No! It was great blowing out my knee and giving up my career, my future. It doesn’t suck at all. Damn, these guys are as sharp as broken crayons. Fans are a part of my life. I grew up knowing that, and I was raised with very specific standards of behavior toward them. No matter what I may have going on, no matter how obnoxious they are, I am gracious and respectful. Daddy always told me it’s the fans who allow us to play our favorite game and get paid to do it. The hard-earned dollars that they chose to spend watching us play keeps a roof over our head, and thus we must be as appreciative as possible.
So instead of slapping these guys upside the head, I put on my classic PR smile. “It gives me more time to spend with family. Maybe some more SportsCenter.” I throw in a wink for good measure. “Thanks for stopping by! Nice talking to you guys.” Translation: move it along.
Charlie arrives just in the nick of time. “Ari, let’s grab a table in the back.” She points at a table far away from the fans.
I wave to the men and link my arm through Charlie’s. “You got here just in time. My shoe has more charm than those two.”
“Well, they are Jimmy Choos. At that price, they better be charming. I don’t know how you do it, Ari. You’re always so good to the fans. I couldn’t do it.”
We slide into a corner booth in the back, away from my admirers at the bar.
“You guys dealt with it a lot growing up. You managed just fine,” I said.
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t the same. Pop was a great pitcher and all, but he never had the same exposure as Aiden. Both your parents were mega stars, so it was totally different. Unless we were with you guys, no one knew who we were. Well, until Chase started getting recognized, anyway. God, remember all those girls who chased after him in high school? Urg, it was awful! I couldn’t take it. I’m perfectly happy living in Chase’s shadow.”
“Thank goodness his ego casts such a large shadow then. Big enough for you to hide in. You could hide a small country in the shadow his ego casts,” I tease. Charlie detests unwanted attention. She’s always been happy to cheer from the sidelines though.
Charlie waves at the waitress. “You deserved a shadow to hide in every once in a while. I never would have survived in your shoes. I know I was right there with you, but the spotlight was never on me. I was just the blurry blob on the side of the paparazzi photo.”
It’s crazy how we grew up side by side, but the expectations and pressures on us were so different. Pat and Katie, for the most part, had anonymity. My parents were America’s couple: the tennis star who had been winning Grand Slams since she was sixteen and the NFL quarterback with an arm like a cannon and looks of a Greek god. They had what everyone wanted—they were truly happy. Unlike other fly-by-night celebrity couples, my parents were nauseatingly in love.
When my mother announced her pregnancy, it was like the whole world was along for the ride. I was raised to appreciate the support, but people have this strange notion that because they’ve seen my picture, they own a piece of me. I’ve never understood how watching me play tennis somehow translates to them being investors in my life.
The waitress stops by, and Charlie orders a glass of Justification, her favorite wine.
“I’ll take a glass as well,” I tell the server.
Charlie looks surprised but doesn’t say anything. She reaches into her Alexander McQueen bag and pulls out her iPad. “You have to see the pictures I took of Aid and Pop when we went horseback riding last week. They came out amazing.” I flip through the shots. She really is a talented photographer. Daddy and Pat look so happy and relaxed. She masterfully captured the essence of their friendship on film.
“So how was the shrink today?” she asks.
“Easier than yesterday. I started talking about me and Chase. I wouldn’t say it’s really helping, but it didn’t feel like she was pulling my fingernails out either.”
She crinkles her nose in disgust. “I still can’t believe you two managed to keep it from me for all those years. Especially Chase. When he has indigestion, I can feel it. I would have thought I would have picked up on something.”
I shrug as I squeeze lemon into my water. “Would you really want to know when your brother’s having sex?”
“No,” she says a bit too loud
ly. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I’m amazed you were both able to lie to me for so long without me picking up on any weird vibes.”
Keeping our relationship a secret had been a miraculous feat. Four long years of deception, misdirection, and bold-faced lies had kept our families safe from the drama that was Chase and me. It was exhausting keeping all the secrets straight.
The waitress drops off our glasses, and I hold my glass up to toast. “For the millionth time, I’m the worst best friend ever. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
She taps my glass. “Best you remember this next time you’re thinking about keeping something from me.”
“Maybe it’s about time you told Chase that you know and take him on an epic guilt trip. We made the decision to deceive y’all together, yet I’m the only one facing the consequences. Which is so like your brother. He manages to escape responsibility and accountability at every turn. Slippery little bastard.”
She straightens her cocktail napkin. “I’m not ready to talk about it with him yet.”
“It’s been two years. How much more time do you need?” I ask.
She leans into the high-backed booth. “It’s not about the amount of time. It just has to be the right context. We don’t talk anywhere nearly as much as we used to, and since you’ve been away, it’s not like you come up in conversation. When the time is right, I’ll lay it on him. It must be perfect to achieve optimal guilt-trip potential.”
I wave my hands, indicating I’m done. “Once you do, I’m off the hook. I think I’ve suffered enough.”
The server stops by and refills my water glass. She asks if we want to order any appetizers. My stomach’s in knots though. Therapy was supposed to help bring my appetite back, but I’ve yet to reap that benefit. I’d go as far as to say therapy has just opened up doors that I had closed long ago and made me more unsettled, not less.
“Are you ever going to tell our parents?” Charlie asks as soon as the server walks away.
I pick up my glass and swirl my wine while I ponder her question. I haven’t really thought about it. I’ve tried everything I can to avoid thinking of him, let alone talking about him to someone else. “I don’t think it would be productive. What would it accomplish at this point?”
Hate to Love You Page 5
