For Crying Out Loud by J. Preston
22Cop A Feel
Is it sexy in here or is it just me?
-Jason
Jenny
Thanksgiving dinner was an entertaining affair. No small thanks to Great Aunt Bertie, who not only managed to cop a feel under the table but also, at one point, took her false teeth out and asked an already traumatized Jason to chew her food and feed it back to her like a mama bird would to a baby.
I swear that old lady has caused a lifetime of damage to my poor brother, damage that only expensive therapy will be able to fix.
I giggle, remembering the events and how wonderfully they unfolded throughout the evening. How, in the first instance, I thought the dropped fork was because Jason saw Aiden getting close to me. But, fortunately for me, it was just Aunt Bertie taking advantage of him.
I smile, thinking how Aiden and I burst out laughing, how Aiden’s hand grazed my thigh while he held my hand, how I shivered when he leaned over to whisper in my ear, how his breath tickled my neck. My room’s temperature is going up just thinking about the green-eyed devil that has been occupying my thoughts for the better part of the past few months in both the ‘frenemy’ and the ‘super hot I-wanna-jump-your-bones’ capacity…
I yawn. This is what my whole night has been like, not a freaking wink, just getting hot and bothered over a guy that isn’t even in the same room. At about six in the morning, I give up on sleep and just take a shower, hoping that the warm water will lull me back to sleep. No dice.
I get up from my bed, where I have been daydreaming about Aiden all morning, and snatch my phone, scrolling through the photos of last night’s events. I quickly choose the one where Aunt Bertie is licking Jason’s arm and send it to Hayley with a note that I miss her.
I sigh and pull on a large, knitted cardigan over my tank top. I put my messy hair up in a high ponytail and decide to go explore the wonders of the Kennedy’s gardens. There are some distressing topiaries up front, and I’m just itching to find out what’s hiding in their well manicured back garden. The possibilities are endless.
The house is eerily quiet. It’s fairly early, and it seems like everyone else is still asleep.
I slip out through the glass door and look at the exquisite landscape, breathtaking. Have you ever read that book, The Secret Garden? Well, what’s in front of my eyes is exactly what I always imagined the elegant and vibrant garden would look like. It’s mesmerising. I pull out my phone and stick my headphones in. There’s only one song worthy of listening to when one is subjected to such beauty. I press play on Springsteen’s Secret Garden.
Walking down the steps, I listen to the music and take in the abundance of vivid colors, the flowers, the weeping willow on the side surrounded by a sea of delicate white petals. I don’t know the names of the plants that pepper the garden in white, orange, violet, and blue. I didn’t even realize plants could bloom this late in fall. But suddenly, I’m overwhelmed with the want—no—need to learn more, to find out the names of the delicate and beautiful things that surround me.
I walk down the stone pathway, deeper into what I can only call a wonderland, overcome with emotions thanks to the crooning voice and teary music of Bruce. During the next half an hour, I walk around the garden in awe, listening to the same song on repeat and smelling different flowers, touching the delicate petals and the hard bark of the trees. I go back to the weeping willow I saw when I first stepped into the garden and lie down in the sea of white flowers.
I close my eyes and inhale the sweet scent. A touch of it reminds me of Aiden’s smell; the earthy, citrusy fragrance of his body. I’ve recently discovered that Jake’s fur, the spot just behind his ear where Aiden scratches him, smells a little bit like Aiden himself, and now, every opportunity I get, I bury my nose in that crook near Jake’s face. He doesn’t complain, and it’s better than going around sniffing Aiden. If I did that, they’d commit me for sure.
Something wet drops on my cheek, and I reluctantly open my eyes to discover the brown face smiling at me with his canine smile.
“Hey trouble,” I say, pulling my headphones out and giving him a hug. Jake licks my ear, making me laugh.
“Hey yourself.” I hear a very sexy voice, one that has a British accent, and an even sexier owner. I sit up and smile.
“I see your stalking ways haven’t changed?” I grin.
“What? No… What are you on about?” Aiden replies, rubbing the back of his neck. His face goes a bit red and his eyes dart to the patch of blue flowers to his left. Interesting.
“I’m joking.” Half true. He’s clearly hiding something, and if we’re being honest, the first two weeks after I got to Starwood, the boy was stalking the crap out of me!
“Haha, yeah… Me too.” He nods, then plops next to me. His proximity makes the air shift around us, and I seriously make a mental note to go see a doctor about these hot flashes. Could I have early onset menopause?
“So…” I say, swinging my feet from side to side until they touch in the middle, making a tapping sound. Jake looks in their direction, then crawls over and starts licking my shoe laces.
“Jake needed to pee,” Aiden explains. Wow.
“I figured.” I try to contain my laughter. Is Aiden Vaughn, the hottest guy on campus, nervous? It can’t be. “I was thinking about yesterday evening,” I start again, my eyes drawn to his large hands. My fingertips move on the ground towards his, drawn by a magnetic force that seems to be between us.
“Yeah…” Aiden nods solemnly. “I thought he was totally going to scream at me, you know, when I kissed your cheek.” He looks away, back onto the patch of those damned blue flowers. How can they be so blue, anyway? And what the hell does he mean, anyway? Is he back to being uncertain about what he wants from me?
“Well, he was being assaulted by Aunt Bertie.” I huff, blowing a stray strand off my face. I have the urge to cross my arms and stomp my feet, but decide against it. Partly because that’s immature, and partly because Jake is happily chomping on my shoelaces and I don’t want to disturb him. “Plus, I can make my own decisions. Jason needs to deal with it.”
“I know, kitten. That’s not what I meant.” He takes my hand, the one that has been steadily inching towards him, and strokes the inside of it, his rough fingers making a pattern I can feel right down to my core. I fight the urge to moan. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all.” He smiles at me. The only reason I know this is because he puts his free hand on my chin and turns my head to face him. I scowl at him full force, and his lip twitches into a half grin, his dimples popping out. I force my head away from his grasp and turn it away from him, unable to hold in the smile. Bastard knows tricks.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath.
“What?” I scoff, still not looking.
“You see the patch of those blue flowers?” He points at the incredibly deep blue flowers his eyes keep stopping on. I nod. “Your eyes,” he starts. “Your eyes change colour depending on your mood. Sometimes they’re like the sky on a sunny day, and sometimes, when I say something that makes you blush…they’re exactly that color,” he says, forcing me to look at him. “Just like right now. Incredible.”
I start moving my feet again, blushing furiously and boring my eyes into my converse that are being licked clean by the fur ball at my feet.
“Did you notice the family name thing or is it just me?” Aiden swiftly changes the subject, cocking his head to the side as I turn back to look at him.
“Uh-oh. You mean how they’re all named after presidents? Carter, Reagan, Wilson and even Aunt Berta!” I exclaim.
“Aunt Berta, really? After whom?”
“Hoover.” I nod knowingly. To be honest, I don’t know shit, but Herbert is the closest thing to Berta I’ve got, so I’m just gonna go with it and see if the Englishman bites.
“Herbie? Really… I guess that could work.”
“I wonder what his mom’s name is,” I muse.
“Tyler, George?” he suggests.
“Bush?” I say the first thing that pops into my head. I blame the gardeny surroundings and the George in Aiden’s suggestion.
“If Bush is her first name, her parents must have really hated her…” He chuckles.
“What about Rutherford or Fillmore?” I ask, looking at my nails, feigning disinterest.
“Oh well, if we’re going in that direction how about Ulysses?” Aiden raises his left eyebrow at me. He must go to the same place Carter does, cause I’m telling you, his eyebrows are equally perfect.
“Nah, that will be the name of Carter’s first born. Fact,” I reply smugly. “I guess we’ll just have to live without the knowledge of what his mother’s name is.”
“Or we could ask him?”
“As if! You know Kennedy, he’ll never tell!” I laugh as Aiden tickles my side. I love how close we’ve gotten over the past week. His phone chimes and Aiden’s face falls, his lips forming a thin line.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, folding my legs under me and facing Aiden properly, making Jake yelp, displeased at taking away his chew toy, aka my shoelaces. Aiden’s fists are tight and his knuckles are white.
“It’s nothing, kitten,” he says, but his eyes tell me a different story. Jake walks over to him, but Aiden doesn’t respond. I swear the dog looks at me judgingly, like he’s trying to say ‘do something’ before he turns away, walking into the shade and settling down for a nap.
“Is it your dad?” I ask on a hunch, hoping that if I’m right, he’ll open up. “You know you can talk to me,” I say, putting my hand on his forearm. “Aide,” I coax softly.
His head turns to me, and his eyes land on my lips. Everything in my power. That’s what it takes to prevent the loud sucking in of my breath when his dark, forest green eyes meet mine.
“Yes,” he says, and, thankfully, looks down at my hand on his arm. I start pulling it away self-consciously, but he puts his hand over mine, preventing it from moving.
“Is it about Christmas?” I ask, remembering the snippets of the conversation he had with his father over the phone when we were in the diner.
“You are an inquisitive little minx, aren’t you?” he asks playfully, focusing his eyes back on mine. His lips twitch into a little smirk, and I shrug, pretending that he doesn’t affect me. “It’s not about Christmas, kitten,” he exhales loudly, looking up at the sky then back at me. “I’m still undeclared.”
His eyes bore into mine, gauging my response, but I’m confused. “Undeclared, as in your major? But how?” Starwood is an Ivy League School and I just don’t see how this would be possible in a second year of study.
“Let’s just say that I’m studying Economics and Psychology and Law and Social Studies. My advisor keeps telling me that the workload is too much, and my dad is pressuring me to choose one major. Economics, but—”
“But you want to help people,” I finish for him, understanding the turmoil he must be going through. “So your father is pushing you towards Economics?”
Aiden nods. “Or anything else business oriented, anything that will help me become the next CEO of his company and rule the Vaughn empire once he retires.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. Especially if you don’t want to follow in his footsteps…”
“Which I don’t.”
“What if,” I start, an idea forming in my head.
“What?” He looks up, hopeful.
“You said you’re taking classes in Economics, Psychology, Social Sciences, and Law, right?” He nods. “What if you declared your major as Law? That would be something that your father would deem approvable, no?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to work for my father.”
“I know, so you declare your major in Law, you go at it full time, your father gets off your case, and once you’re done, you become a human rights lawyer! You still help people!” I exclaim, elated by my brilliance.
“That’s doable.” Aiden taps his finger to his chin, and I kid you not, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s wearing clothes—a fact that displeases me—he’d be a spitting image of the statue of The Thinker. Just more muscular, and hotter, waaaay hotter. “I’d have to take more classes, but if I unload Economics, I’d have more time,” he muses as I drink in his body. The t-shirt he’s wearing is tight, just enough to pinch his torso in a way that shows off his defined muscles. I lick my lips, certain that I’m drooling. “And it would give me time to convince my father that me running his company is the last thing he wants. How did I not think about this before?” He looks up at me. “Kitten, you’re brilliant!” he exclaims and launches himself at me, pulling me into his lap and enveloping me in a hug.
I suppose if he wasn’t wearing that tight t-shirt and if I hadn’t been drooling over him non-stop for the past twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t have done what I did…I suppose.
As things are, just as Aiden’s arms wrap around me, I move my head up and lift my face to his, ending up face to face with him, my legs wrapped around his middle and my hands fisting his tight t-shirt. My breathing is ragged and I know, God, I know there’s no escape from this, from him, from us. Not now and not anytime soon. I silently pray that he has made up his mind about us and lift my face to his, fusing our lips together in what, from this day forth, will be known as the most epic kiss I have ever received.
Aiden reacts instantly, groaning into my lips, making them tingle. His hands move from around me; one twisting into my hair, messing up my ponytail, the other moving down my side, over my ribcage, and towards my hip as he lays me down on the grass. I moan and snake my tongue around his lower lip, nipping at it when he presses into me with approval. Hot flashes run up and down my body, and my chest moves with a speed I didn’t know was possible. I run my hands over his hard chest, wishing the stupid material of his t-shirt away, whimpering. Whimpering! I didn’t even know I could make sounds like this, but this boy and his tongue have magical powers. He moves his supernatural tongue slowly in and out of my mouth, teasing, drawing out the kiss, making me whimper more and arch my back, pressing myself into him.
He moans, and the sound reverberates from my mouth all the way down to the tips of my toes, like a delicious echo. I pull his t-shirt up and my hands finally connect with his hard, smooth chest, making me sigh with relief. Then he pulls away, and I’m about to protest when he slowly starts teasing my lips with his tongue, driving me crazy with the anticipation of the tingling sensation his lips cause when they connect with mine.
I tighten the grip my legs have on him, pulling him closer to me, my fingers digging into his back as he rocks against me with a loud groan in response. His lips descend on my neck, kissing and teasing and nipping and licking all the way to my cleavage, where he starts sucking like a hungry caveman. My treacherous body arches into him again, eager for more, wanting the full on connection I have only read about in trashy romance novels. I whimper his name, rocking against him, chasing the feeling that’s just within my reach. His hand climbs back up and pulls at my collar, exposing my breast. With a satisfied moan, his mouth closes on my nipple and, as he sucks, I see stars. A pleasure builds in me as my body grinds into him, rubbing against his hard cock through my flimsy yoga pants. Faster and faster, moaning his name as he grips my ass and pushes against me with fervor. I come unexpectedly, shuddering, with his name on my lips. My body trembles as ecstasy courses through my body. I can’t believe I just had my first orgasm. With Aiden, no less. And it was exquisite, earth shattering, and—God, forgive me—I want to feel this again and again. I pull his head back to my lips and kiss him feverishly, sneaking my hand down to his jeans, reaching for his zipper. I want to touch him, hold him, make him feel as good as he just made me feel.
“Kitten, wait,” he says hoarsely. His eyes are pure onyx as he hungrily rakes them over my body. “Jason,” he mutters, looking back towards the house.
What the hell? I literally want to punch him, like I did six years ago. Punch him, then straddle him, pin him to the ground, rip his shirt off, and lick him.
I need serious help…
“Oh, for crying out loud, Aiden!” I shove him away. Have I not just served myself to him on a silver platter? What is his problem? My brain seems to be winning the war with my hormones, this time. “I honestly can’t do this thing anymore.” I motion between him and me. “You can’t kiss me one minute then suddenly remember that you shouldn’t. Make your bloody mind up.” I grit through my teeth, jumping up to my feet.
My hair is a mess and my cheeks are flushed, and somehow, I manage to convince myself that this is all his fault, even though I was the one who couldn’t keep my hands off him. Pissed as hell, I turn around and stomp off. That boy deserves a kick in the nuts.
“Jenny… It’s not what—” he starts explaining, but I just stick my headphones in and run faster.
I smirk. His expression when I was shouting at him was priceless. I no longer have any doubts. I AM A GREAT KISSER if the fire in his eyes, his quick breathing, and his moans were any indication.
I walk into the house, bumping into Carter.
“Hey Miyagi,” I say.
“Good morning to you too,” he grumbles. “Ooh, have you been hopping in the grass?” He plucks a grass strand from my hair.
“Yeah, yeah and all the other pleasantries. Say Carter, what’s your mom’s first name?” I ask, my inquisitive nature winning over my annoyance with Aiden.
“Why?”
“Just wondering,” I reply innocently.
“Bella,” he replies, narrowing his eyes.
“Thanks!” I turn around and run to my room, trying not to laugh. I wish I could turn back, run outside, and share that piece of information with Aiden. He’d love to know that it’s Bella and not some pompous name. I’d love to see his face when he finds out.
But I will not.
Aiden is like that plant I tried to keep alive in fifth grade and failed. Even though I may have just truly realized that I’m falling for the fucker, Aiden Vaughn is dead to me.