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“Sorry.” My fingertips curl into the pillow’s fluff. “I’m not trying to be difficult—”
“No.” Aaron sighs with violent force. “I just really want to kiss the fuck out of you.”
Heat lashes through my face, and I brace my legs, preparing to sling my pillow at him as I apparently did once before. Aaron notices my battle stance, and his smile returns.
“Can I?” he asks, his eyebrows and fingers wiggling with evil intent.
I reel the pillow back in preparation. “Keep your horny mouth away from me!”
“Just your forehead?” He inches forward.
“I’ll hit you! I mean it!”
“Behind your ear?” he pleads.
The moment he takes another half step forward, I unleash my wrath, hurling the pillow forward and thwacking him with enough force to make him stagger. “Sorry,” I choke out.
“Thank God,” he says, huffing with relief. “I thought I was going to have to get on my hands and knees and beg for it. That’s a side of me I save for special occasions.”
I try not to gag on my next breath. “Move on,” I order, hugging the pillow in case I need to use it again. “You came into my room and I hit you because I thought you were an intruder. What next?”
“Right. So you assaulted me with your pillow until I”—Aaron seizes it, ripping it from my grasp—“stole it from you. It was dark, and you were disoriented, so you didn’t realize it was me. What happened next?”
“I punched you in the face?” I ask flatly.
Aaron laughs again, and it’s a cozy sound. “What if I say yes? Are you willing to re-create it?”
I shift my jaw with annoyance, because of course not, and he knows that.
“Actually,” he says, “you tried shouting. It surprised me because I figured you’d be the type to freeze up. But you attacked me, then your mouth opened, and I panicked.”
“Did you punch me in the face?” I ask nervously.
Aaron gasps and clutches at his nonexistent pearls. “Good heavens, Riley, do you think I’m the type to hit people half my size?”
I scoff, wanting to shove him but knowing full well he’ll just trap me. “Half a foot in height doesn’t mean I’m half your size,” I mutter. “Also, I wouldn’t be surprised. You used to start fights plenty in high school.”
“With dicks who deserved it,” he points out, his eyes brightening. “Either way, no, there was no punching involved. How do you think I stopped you from shouting?”
He’s having way too much fun, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I don’t know,” I say in vexation. “Did you nonconsensually put your tongue in my mouth?”
Aaron makes a dissatisfied ticking noise. “Was your opinion of me always this low before we started dating?”
“Well, did you?” I ask accusingly.
“First rule of storytelling,” Aaron says, his finger jutting into the air. “Show, don’t tell.”
I give him my fiercest glare, which must not be very fierce, because his diabolical grin doesn’t falter. “Show me, then,” I say.
He must’ve been waiting for permission, because he lunges for me and seizes my wrists in one hand, the other flying to my mouth before I can even squeak with surprise. He drives me onto the bedspread with his weight. In two seconds, I’ve been made useless, my hands pinned over my head and my mouth shielded by his palm.
“I said It’s just me,” Aaron tells me. “What do you think you did?”
He asks, like he doesn’t have my mouth covered. I give my wrists an experimental tug, but he merely tightens his grip, pressing them deeper into the comforter. It’s not threatening, but he’s definitely not going to let me up. I jam my tongue out and lick his hand, hoping to disgust him into reeling backward.
Aaron’s eyes widen, but then he grins and bends closer, until the only thing separating our lips is his palm. “Cute,” he whispers, and then the madman kisses the back of his own hand. “But I’m used to that feeling, so it’s not going to work.”
He can probably feel the temperature rising in my cheeks. I must’ve done something else to get him off me, but my instincts are useless right now. Aaron is the last person I’d ever trust, and yet…
