Why do I get the feeling that he has no intentions of leaving?
“I don’t want you to get sick.”
“I won’t,” He’s already unpacking the box. I watch as he sets up a cosy spot on the couch, pulling the blanket from the back and arranging the pillows. “Tea or coffee?”
The fuck?
He strides past me, heading straight for the kitchen like he owns the place.
How the hell does he know where everything is?
I stand there, bewildered, as he effortlessly navigates through the kitchen, grabbing mugs and rummaging through the cabinets. It’s as if he’s been here a hundred times before.
I’m so confused as to what the hell is going on that I don’t notice him coming with a glass of Lucozade (I don’t remember having any in the house) and forcing it into my hands.
“Sugar for shock.”
“Thanks.” The word comes out in a whisper as I take the glass, still trying to process the situation. I drain the contents in one gulp, and then Aiden takes the empty glass from me and places it in the dishwasher.
“Go on now,” he turns, nodding again at the stairs.
“I really don’t need to—Aiden!” Never have I ever been so manhandled by someone before. Aiden’s strength surprises me; he effortlessly throws me over his shoulder and carries me up the stairs. I hold onto him for dear life, afraid of falling from his shoulder.
How the hell does he know which room is mine?
I’m tossed onto the bed like a sack of spuds, and in the nextheartbeat, he’s already rummaging through my wardrobe.
“Do you mind?” I shout, trying to regain some control over the situation.
“Not at all.” He doesn’t even have the decency to look at me when he says it. It takes him a minute to locate my pyjamas, and he tosses them at me without a second thought. He then spins for the chest of drawers and starts rummaging through them. A pair of fluffy socks are soon tossed over his shoulder, hitting me squarely in the face.
“Are you fucking—”
“What is this?” he purrs, holding up some lacy lingerie that I had forgotten I even owned. I blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “Put that down!” I demand, snatching the lingerie from his hand. He smirks, picking up the matching G-string and dangling it from his index finger.
I snatch it from him, my face turning even redder. “What? You’ve never seen women’s underwear before?”
“I’ve never seenyourunderwear before,” he turns, stuffing his hands into his pockets, adding, “at least, not in the light.”
“You can thank your lucky stars for that.” Stuffing my lingerie back into the drawer, I slam it shut and end up turning into the brick wall that is Aiden’s chest.
His smile has turned into a scowl. “Why do you talk about yourself like that?”
“Like what?” I try to push past him, but he blocks my way, his scowl deepening.
“Like you’re worthless” it comes out like a hiss. He tries to reach for me, but I recoil, stepping back instinctively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He moves forward, and I move back, trapping myself between the wall and Aiden’s advancing figure. His palm feelswarm and solid against my cheek as he forces me to look into his eyes. “Who was it?”
“Who was what?”
His eyes darken to a stormy grey. “Whoever made you feel that you were beneath them needs to be hung by their scrotum and set on fire.” His fingers squeeze my jaw—a restrictive move, not painful. “I don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that again, Katie.”
“I can’t help it,” I admit, and I feel the overwhelming shame wash over me when the tears trickle down my cheeks.
His eyes follow the trail of my tears, his expression softening. His thumbs gently wipe away the droplets from my cheeks. “If you only saw what I see,” his forehead rests against mine, “you would never doubt your worth again.”
It takes everything in me not to fall to pieces.
