“Come on, hop up.” He patted the bright white marble slab, and when I did as he asked, he wedged himself between my thighs.
“Is this what your house in California is like?”
He laughed. “Nah. My mom got the short end of the stick, thanks to a lousy prenup. She has a small ranch house in Sherman Oaks. It’s definitely nice, nicer than most,” he said, retracting his earlier comment, probably wondering about where I lived. “It’s comfortable and lived in, but my mom spends most of her time in bed, wrapped in a robe, yearning for something she’ll never have again.”
“Sad. She must’ve really loved your dad.”
He took a swig of beer. “She did. Does. I don’t know. It may just be the idea of what they once had. The whole divorce was a surprise to her. My dad came home from work one day and announced he was leaving. Months after he left, she was still walking around talking about a trip to Mexico they took. I must’ve heard it a thousand times.”
He stopped, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a breath and a drink.
“They drove across the border, looking for some fun, but their car ran out of gas. Of course, all they had was beer in the trunk. They stayed hydrated on only beer until another car swung by. According to the story, they were out there all day. Apparently, they were once young and carefree and in love, easygoing and full of life. Or so the story goes,” he said, his words coming out bitter and sad.
“After that, my dad worked a lot, or said he was working. He rarely came home, and my mom became completely wrapped up in her self-pity.”
“Wow, and how old were you when they separated?”
“Thirteen. I remember my entire eighth-grade year, my mom sobbed into her pillow. I used to go to bed at night and wish my dad would come back. Then I just wished she would get up.”
“That was a lot for a boy.”
“Hey, this is crazy. It’s starting to sound a lot like a poor-little-rich-boy story. You, my girl, are strong beyond words.” He tipped my chin up with his finger, and I wished for him to lean in and kiss me.
Last week, I’d told Aston my dad had been gone since I was born, leaving my mom and me to fend for each other. It was fine, though. We’d made it work.
I gulped the water, needing to cool off my emotions. Being around Aston brought out every emotion in me—sadness, need, desire, want, lust, pity, and occasionally envy.
“Let’s talk about something better,” he said, “like school. You ready?”
I nodded. “Getting there. The money’s growing in my account, and I bought some stuff for my room.”
“I hope you’re not planning on inviting any boys to your room.” He gave me a pointed look, and I swatted at his chest.
“Come on,” I said with an eye roll.
“Seriously.”
I stared at the floor, heat burning my cheeks.
How could I take anyone else back to my room, my bed, when all I wanted was him.Him, him, him.Dirty thoughts of him pounded in my head as my heart beat an obscene rhythm in my chest.
Aston lifted my chin again with his index finger and his gaze traveled my whole face, his finger tracing my cheek. He took my cup and set it with his beer on the counter and slid his hands under my hair.
With his gaze locked on mine, he whispered, “I’m serious.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond, only kissed my lips. At first, our mouths remained closed, until a small moan escaped me. Aston took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, where it stroked mine.
The kiss deepened, as did the grip his hands had on my neck. With a quick swoop, Aston lifted me, and my legs wrapped around his middle. He rocked his pelvis into me, and another moan came from me.
“Want to go upstairs? Is that okay?” Aston mumbled into my ear as he sucked on the lobe.
“Yeah.” My voice was breathy and unrecognizable.
He carried me up to his room and set me on the bed. I took a second to glance around while he shut the blinds. King-size bed, two nightstands, and a desk, all in deep mahogany wood. Some safari-themed border ran around the walls, and I knew this wasn’t really his space.
He clicked on the lamp, and soft light flooded the room.
Sliding next to me, his long arm draped across me, he began to run his hand over my side, making me shiver. His hand traveled over my rib cage and over my breast, sending chills up and down my spine, like the kind of shock you get when you take off a sweater in dry heat.
