I spotted the problem with that scenario before Aaron, who seemed to be too caught up considering other viable options of escape to come to the same conclusion. I decided to state the obvious.
“They will have spotted your car by now.” I said in a low, calm voice while throwing him a significant look.
“They’ll know we haven’t left the house because they would have seen us leave. Besides, they wouldn’t think you’d just abandon your car. Which means … they will find us,” I concluded in a slightly shaky voice.
Aaron seemed a bit taken aback.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” he admitted, looking stunned. “I guess I’m really off my game,” he added. “It’s not like I have to deal with murderers every day, you know,” he added slightly defensively.
“Hey …,” I said, throwing my hands up in surrender, “… it’s okay, no one’s questioning your manliness or … whatever.”
Judging by the look on Aaron’s face, I gathered I had sounded a bit snotty just then, which I hadn’t meant to be. It had just come out that way.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a serious tone, looking him straight in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it like that ― I guess I’m off my game, too. And I’m just exhausted and … scared shitless.”
At that last bit of my confession, Aaron evidently had a hard time keeping his miffed expression, his lips turning up in a smile against his will at my unexpected choice of words.
“I’m not sure you can be scared ‘shitless’. You seem too proper to even use that term,” Aaron snickered, once again acting condescending and insulting me in branding me ‘too proper’.
In my book that was quite an insult, issued by someone who obviously prided himself on being cool, sexy and a daredevil. I huffed angrily, turned around, and headed toward the mattress, plumping myself right smack in the middle, leaving no space for Aaron to sit down and rest.
When I heard him approaching the mattress, apologizing while roaring with laughter ― a feat not easily accomplished ― I hastily turned on my side and slid to the edge of the mattress to give him room, not wanting to offer him any further cause for an argument that would force me to interact with him until I was able to calm down and rest.
For the moment, I had enough of dealing with his patronizing attitude. I felt ― once again ― cowed and humiliated.
Screw you, I thought, proper enough for you?
Quite possibly, I was downright overreacting, but at the moment I just couldn’t care less. I was tired and cold and scared. So, naturally, I felt I deserved to be a little out of line if it suited me. And it suited me just fine.
The fact that Aaron was laughing out loud after just having lost the closest thing to a father he had ever known, was an indication that he was feeling as much on edge as I was. It seemed he was dealing with his loss the only way he knew how to: he was doing a really good job repressing everything!
I heard something heavy being set on the ground next to the mattress, the book he had carried in his shirt, I presumed. Then I felt Aaron plump himself right beside me; but I didn’t react in any way.
“Oh, come on,” Aaron complained, lying on his side with his chest to my back, his face looking over my shoulder in an attempt to get me to talk to him again.
“Come on,” he pleaded again in between laughs.
“It’s not funny,” I managed between clenched teeth.
Aaron seemed momentarily confused.
“What’s not funny? What did I do? What did I do that’s so terrible that you’re behaving like a …”
“Exactly,” I countered. “Like a little girl. Isn’t that what you were about to say?”
“Yes, that’s what I was about to say. And I’m not wrong, am I? That’s exactly how you’re behaving.” Aaron answered angrily.
“You’re right.” I whispered in a voice so low I wasn’t sure Aaron had heard.
That was indeed the truth. I was behaving like a little girl.
Unfortunately there was nothing I could do about it. I could be confident in anything I did when I knew it was something I was good at or could muster with the right amount of time and work. But with him, everything was different.
I didn’t know how to handle him, didn’t know how to let him know what it was I wanted, needed, from him. Was afraid to even admit it to myself … much less him.
The mere fact that he regarded me as an insecure little girl and that I was aware of how he saw me, tended to make me do just that: act that way. He was the one who brought it out in me, the one person I would have liked to impress by being suave and grown-up.
It was a curse, it was my curse! And I was stuck with it, there was no cure, at least none I knew of.
Bury two dozen garlic cloves under a new moon and dance around in a circle like a lunatic, I thought morosely, or something like that.
“You just … don’t understand,” was all I could manage to say aloud.
At that, Aaron’s strong and muscular arm reached around me and had my body turned toward his in under two seconds, despite my struggling against him.
“Then explain it to me,” Aaron challenged, his arm still tightly wound around my body, holding me in place, our bodies so close together that I suddenly found myself gazing straight into Aaron’s eyes.
His expression had undergone quite a change since I had looked at him last. He had gone from amused and playful to deadly serious.
I could tell that he was a man on a mission; he was not going to give in and let me go before he got to the bottom of why I acted the way I did, and before I clarified exactly what I had accused him of not understanding.
I swallowed hard. There was no way I would live through the next couple of minutes. I was not going to be able to worm my way out of explaining ― but I had to try.
“Would you please let go of me,” I growled at him, struggling to move out of his grip and away from him.
“No,” Aaron answered coolly, not even moving a muscle as he kept me tightly in place, while I was already breaking out in a sweat from struggling so hard.
“You have to admit it’s pointless,” Aaron said in such a calm voice it made me give up on the idea of worming my way out of anything. It just wasn’t going to work.
“So, here’s your chance to explain what it is I do so well to piss you off and make you throw a tantrum.”
There it was again, I thought. His words were perfectly chosen in order to piss me off. But I chose to ignore his snub, because things couldn’t get worse than they were anyway.
“Tell me,” Aaron insisted, his voice low, his eyes on mine, his fingers seemingly unconsciously kneading my back.
My heart sank into my boots.
“Err … I … there’s … nothing … err …,” I stammered.
I was suddenly so nervous, the words wouldn’t come. Besides, I didn’t know what to say, anyway. What should I tell him? That I ached for him?
That despite his making fun of me, and even though he didn’t like me back, I was slowly and against all sane reasoning starting to fall for him? That it hurt me how lowly he thought of me?
How humiliating! I would rather die, I thought, and then revised that thought in light of the assassination crew in the house above our heads.
“Why are you so nervous?” Aaron asked cautiously, looking me over with a gaze so intense it made me go weak in the knees.
It was lucky I was lying down, I thought. Was he aware of his fingers kneading my back in a most intimate manner? A shiver I couldn’t hold back shook my body.
Of course he noticed, I couldn’t help but think when I saw him surveying my trembling body.
“You’re shaking,” Aaron uttered in a steady voice, seemingly unperturbed by my quivering body. But I saw. He couldn’t hide the change, the spark of recognition in his eyes, the moment he realized what it all meant.
It couldn’t have been too hard to figure out, I mused. If he had read the signs he would have realized it before then, with the way I was sure I
was carrying my heart on my sleeve; the way I reacted to him, or more precisely overreacted to him.
Maybe, I gathered, he hadn’t wanted to see the signs. Maybe it was more comfortable that way.
However he had managed not to see it before, there was no escaping the look in my eyes at that moment, I was sure. I was certain my feelings were mirrored there as I looked at him, at this beautiful creature that didn’t want me.
At that thought, tears sprang to my eyes; I had no strength left to hold them back or even to attempt it. Closing my overflowing eyes and turning my head away from him, I tried to hide this mortifying image of myself from view.
“Wait,” Aaron murmured in a stunned and shaky voice, no longer the unaffected man he had mimicked to perfection. He reached out to me, his large strong hand cradling my wet, tear-streaked cheek and gently turning my head toward him again.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it as an insult. I like that you’re not … a bad girl,” he managed, his voice slightly uneven, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that had marred my skin moments before. “I don’t mean to be an ass,” he continued, making me laugh despite the distress I felt.
“Apology accepted,” I said, giving him a small smile in appreciation of his efforts to soothe me.
He hadn’t alluded to what he had seen in my eyes, nor had he asked me to explain anything further. There had been no need. The explanation had been given implicitly. He probably didn’t know what to say or how to respond to this unwanted infatuation, I gathered.
He wasn’t likely to want to brush me off if he could avoid it, so he chose not to mention it. But it didn’t matter. The truth was out, and it wasn’t like I could change that. There was no more damage control. The damage was done.
Now all I had to do was live with it and try not to let it show too much so that I could retain at least some dignity.
I was just about to turn back on my left side, away from him, convinced our conversation was over ― for what was there left to talk about ― when Aaron stopped me.
“What …,” I began, puzzled.
“Shhh …,” Aaron whispered in a voice so low and soft it took my breath away, especially as his body was slowly moving closer to mine.
His left hand moved into my hair, his fingers weaving through the long red curls and downward to the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking my soft flesh enticingly while giving me a heated look.
“You’re seducing me,” I whispered in a low, calm voice, for once brave enough to call a spade a spade.
“Yes,” Aaron whispered back, his voice suggestive, his actions deliberate as his right arm slid to the bottom of my shirt, slowly tugging it out of my jeans.
“The question is: will you let me?”
As his hand slid under the shirt and touched the exposed skin of my belly, I jerked nervously in surprise.
My arm shot forward and stopped him from going any further, my hand resting on his and holding it down, although both of us knew he could have moved it if he had wanted to.
“That depends,” I answered and waited for him to enquire further.
“Depends on what?” he asked, his gaze roaming over my body provocatively now that his hand had been halted.
I waited until his eyes found mine again. When I was certain I had his undivided attention, I said:
“On whether or not you’re just playing with me.”
“You mean you’d like to know what my intentions are,” Aaron qualified, obviously amused by being presented with the question normally asked by the father of a girl right before a date, in order to intimidate the boy, which was then followed by a threat to cut him into a million tiny pieces if he didn’t keep his hands to himself.
I didn’t answer but waited for his response.
Only … his response was not what I had expected. He didn’t play by the rules. His hands stayed where they were, but he didn’t need his hands to seduce me.
Aaron leaned forward and kissed me, his sensual, soft, warm lips moving over mine, his teeth leisurely tugging on my bottom lip, slowly but surely enticing me to let go of my tight control.
As I gave into his seduction and parted my lips, his kiss deepened, his tongue moving against mine teasingly in an arousing way. I knew I had lost the fight already. Seduction had never been this easy, I assumed.
But then, I was a willing subject. I had known from the beginning that I would have no power to resist him once he started his move on me.
Either I was too easy, or he was just too good. But, what else could I have expected from a player? He must have had a lot of women. I would be one more in his collection if I didn’t find a way to become immune to his charms.
Aaron’s hand cupped the back of my head, bringing me closer to him, pulling me deeper into our kiss. His body was pressed up tightly against mine, our legs intertwined. His other hand caressed my back.
I threw caution to the winds. If I died that same day, I would regret nothing, I would cherish that moment, even if it meant something different to him than it did to me.
I would take what he would give me. I had no choice. I was beyond the point of no return. Even if I didn’t share some strange bond with him, I would have felt the same. I had known the first time I’d laid eyes on him, when I had been terrified by my strong reaction to him. I was no longer terrified.
I finally stopped lying there passively and responded in full with all the passion I felt inside of me. When my hands clawed desperately at Aaron’s shirt and couldn’t open it fast enough, I tore it open, scattering the buttons in all directions.
Aaron’s startled gaze met mine for a moment, before I reached out and drew him in again, desperate for his kiss, my hands caressing Aaron’s bare, beautifully tanned skin, his muscular chest, leisurely making their way down toward his stomach.
Our kisses grew more and more heated. Aaron’s hand had moved from my back to my belly and was slowly making its way toward my chest. His fingers moved over the fabric of my bra, caressing me through the fabric. I moaned with the sheer overwhelming pleasure I was feeling.
I had never been so close to any man. Now I was being kissed and caressed by a man half the student body would have killed to be with. I felt confident all of a sudden; I felt elated, powerful … on fire…
Aaron asked himself what the fuck he thought he was doing. He was making a huge mistake, he was certain of it. How, he wondered, had he gotten himself into this situation again?
And the worst part of it was: he had only himself to blame! She had been ready to turn away from him. The conversation had been over; he could have just let her turn around and everything would have been fine.
Now, things were far from fine! He couldn’t offer her what he knew she really wanted. He didn’t know how to be in a real, steady relationship. All he was good at was hit and run.
She had no less than pleaded with him not to seduce her in the first place if he was only going to toy with her emotions. But he hadn’t been able to resist.
The way she had lain there in his arms ― that look on her face, the emotion in her eyes, the way her body had shivered in response to his nearness; that wasn’t something he could just ignore. Every fiber of his being had wanted her, and he had given in to it.
He had not only seduced her, they had seduced each other.
She might not have realized it, but she had seduced him as well. Was there anything more seductive than a person in love with you? The way she had looked, so beautiful, innocent and vulnerable, wearing her heart on her sleeve ― the ultimate seduction.
And so he had surrendered ― comforted by the thought that he at least had his emotions in check if not his urges, and that he remained, on the whole, in control of his body. Even if he had given in to lust, she couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do.
He always knew exactly what he was doing when he slept with a woman. His actions were deliberate, purposeful; he had never let himself spin wildly out of control ― he needed to be in control.
But she had surprised him.
She had suddenly sprung to life in his arms, seizing control, reeling him in and making his head spin and his knees grow weak ― throwing him completely off guard.
That was when he realized how dangerous she really was! If he couldn’t even control his actions anymore, then he was in deep shit.
And he couldn’t. He was unable to stop touching her, couldn’t stop kissing her, didn’t want to; he couldn’t stop what they had set in motion. He had lost control. But so, he thought, had she.
All he could do was watch ― terrified ― what his body was doing while getting pulled in farther and farther by the pleasurable sensations washing over him.
They were reeling, heading in a direction that for some reason ― though he couldn’t have explained it if he had tried ― he sensed was of catastrophic proportions.
While his hands were unbuttoning her shirt, he struggled one last time to regain control and stop what he was doing before it was too late.
As he struggled with all his might, his eyes caught movement on Persephone’s chest. And what he saw there, freaked him out so much, he was finally able to pull free of her and get to his feet, in control again at last.
Using his last bit of strength, he managed to keep his body from shaking in response to her and what had nearly happened between them; and from what he had just witnessed.
As he stood there gazing down at Persephone, he still had difficulty believing what he had seen: the rose on Persephone’s chest had been stirring, a petal had opened up in bloom while he’d been watching.
Now that they had stopped, the image was no longer changing but remained innocently unchanged since he’d had his eyes glued to it, as if it had never happened, as if he had merely imagined it ― only he hadn’t. It had definitely changed.
Two petals were opened up in bloom while the rest remained shut around the bud. Now that he thought about it, he believed the image he had seen in his dream had been that of a completely shut rose. Or maybe one petal had been open; he wasn’t sure.
“What the hell …,” Aaron muttered under his breath.
“Exactly,” Persephone said in response, “what are you doing?” she asked, seemingly more than a little perturbed by his sudden ‘escape’.
Souls of Fire Page 14
