Page 29

KATERINA

The following day, I wake up next to him. Aiden’s arm is draped over my waist, his body curled around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His warmth seeps into me, his slow, steady breathing the only sound in the quiet room, and I hate how much I like it. How much I don’t want to

move. How much I want to stay in this stolen moment, pretend that this is normal—that we are normal.

But reality crashes in too fast, too sharp because this isn’t normal. We aren’t normal. Whatever this is—whatever we keep doing—it isn’t safe.

So, I move. I shift carefully, trying to slip out from under him without waking him up. But the second I do, Aiden grumbles in his sleep, his arm tightening around me, his nose brushing against my neck. My breath catches.

“You’re not sneaky, Angel Face,”

he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

I freeze. His grip tightens just enough to pull me back against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I swallow, forcing myself to sound unbothered.

“To get coffee.”

Aiden makes a low noise in his throat as if he doesn’t believe me, but after a moment, he sighs and loosens his hold.

“Fine. But I’m stealing some.”

I roll my eyes as I finally escape, tugging the hem of his hoodie over my thighs before making my way to the kitchen.

The second I step into the main room, Alina is already there, sipping coffee, arms crossed, waiting.

I pause.

She tilts her head. “So, you’re wearing his hoodie again.” I

scowl.

“Good morning to you, too.”

Alina smirks. “Didn’t answer the question.”

I groan, grabbing a mug and pouring my coffee like I can ignore her.

“It’s comfortable.”

“Mhm,”

she hums. “And not because you two are screwing.”

I choke on my coffee. “Alina!”

She laughs, propping her chin on her hand.

“Relax, Malyshka. Your secret is safe with me. For now.” I

glare.

“There’s no secret. Nothing is going on.”

Alina gives me a look.

“Kat.”

“Alina.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. Pretend all you want. But just so you know, you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

I groan. “You’re the worst.”

Alina grins before answering.

“I know.”

Before I can come up with a comeback, the source of my problems walks in the kitchen—shirtless, messy hair from sleeping in and looking like he owns the place. Which, technically, he does. But still. Aiden steps behind me, his chest brushing my back as he reaches over my head to grab a mug. I tense. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear.

“Told you I was stealing some.”

I glare at him over my shoulder.

“You’re insufferable,”

Aiden smirks, taking a slow sip.

“And yet, you keep ending up in my bed.”

My face burns while Alina chokes on her coffee, cackling. I can’t believe he said that in front of Alina.

By the time I get to class, my morning irritation has doubled.

Mostly because Aiden insisted on driving me to school as if I was some fragile thing that couldn’t handle the walk. We argued about it, but somehow, I still ended up in his car, listening to his annoying music, trying to ignore how my stomach flipped whenever he smirked at me. I grab his phone and lift it towards his face to unlock it. Aiden glares at me, but I ignore him. Clicking his music app, I search for Cigarettes After Sex and shuffle their playlist.

“What’s with the sad music?”

Aiden asks, glancing at me and then back at the road.

“It’s not sad. It’s just calm, soft music.”

Surprisingly, Aiden doesn’t say anything back and lets me be until we get to campus.

And now? Now, I’m stuck next to him in class because our professor switched seating arrangements for a stupid “collaborative learning experience.”

“Try to look less miserable,”

Aiden murmurs, leaning over as he lazily spins a pen between his fingers. I glare at him.

“I wouldn’t be miserable if I didn’t have to sit next to you.”

Aiden grins, leaning in just enough that I can smell his cologne.

“Liar. You love sitting next to me.”

I scoff, turning back to

my notebook. “I tolerate sitting next to you.”

He chuckles.

“Tolerate? Is that what you call it when you cuddle me in your sleep?”

My hand tightens around my pen.

“I do not cuddle you.”

“You do,”

he says with a grin, like he’s enjoying this too much. “It’s adorable, really. You even nuzzle—”

I whip my head around, whispering harshly,

“If you finish that sentence, I will stab you with my pen.”

Aiden laughs, completely unfazed.

“Kinky.”

I slam my pen down and pinch the bridge of my nose, inhaling deeply. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

I open my mouth to fire back, but our professor clears her throat, cutting me off. I don’t miss the victorious look Aiden shoots me. Smug bastard. Somehow, despite my best efforts, I end up back in his room. One second, we’re watching a movie on his couch, and the next— His fingers are tangled in my hair, his lips on mine, his body pressing me down into the mattress, his weight everywhere on me.

“Aiden,”

I gasp, as his mouth trails down my jaw, his hands sliding under the hem of my hoodie— His hoodie. Aiden groans, dragging his lips back to mine, kissing me so intensely my head spins. I should stop this. But I don’t. Because his hands feel too good, his body feels too right, and when he pulls away just enough to whisper,

“You drive me insane, Angel Face,”

my heart nearly shatters. Because I believe him.

His room is too small. Or maybe it just feels that way because he’s here. Aiden stretches out on his bed, propped up against the headboard, his long legs

sprawled out comfortably. I’m curled up at the other end of the bed, pretending to be invested in the movie playing on his TV. I’m not. Because all I can think about is him. The way his forearms flex when he runs a hand through his hair. The way his jaw tightens when a scene annoys him. The way his fingers drum absently against his stomach, make my gaze drop lower than it should.

I shift, tucking my legs under me. I should have left an hour ago, I have a test to study for. But I don’t move. And now, in the quiet hum of his room, it feels like it’s going to snap. Aiden exhales slowly. I glance up at him just as he turns his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

Something shifts in the air. Heavy. Charged.

I swallow hard, gripping the edge of his blanket like it might ground me.

“You’re not even watching,”

he says, his voice rough, low,

something deeper laced beneath it. I lick my lips. “Neither are you.”

Aiden tilts his head slightly, eyes dropping to my mouth for

half a second before flicking back up. “You keep looking at me,”

he murmurs.

My heart slams against my ribs. “You keep looking at me

first.”

His lips twitch, but there’s no amusement in his expression. Only heat.

The kind that steals the air from my lungs, makes my skin

burn beneath his gaze.

I should say something sharp, something to break this tension, to remind him that I still haven’t forgiven him. That I’m still mad at him for walking away, for pulling back when I wanted him to stay. But the words get stuck.

Because he’s watching me like that again, like he’s trying to decide if he should touch me.

Like he wants to, but knows it’ll ruin everything. I turn away, pretending to adjust the blanket over my lap. “You want me to leave?”

“No,”

Aiden says finally, voice rough. “I don’t.”

That admission is dangerous, because I don’t want to leave either. I shift again, stretching my legs out so that my foot accidentally brushes his thigh. He stills, and so do I.

I should move away. But I don’t and neither does Aiden. His breathing is deeper now, heavier, as if he’s fighting something.

I bite my lip. “Aiden—”

“Come here,”

he says suddenly. My stomach free-falls. His voice is different now—not a demand, not a plea, but something in between. I should hesitate. I should question it.

But I don’t, because I want this. More than anything.

I shift, slowly crawling toward him, my pulse wild as I settle next to him, my thigh brushing his.

Close.

Too close.

Aiden doesn’t move for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he lifts his arm, giving me room to lean into him. I shouldn’t but I do. His warmth is immediate, overwhelming, wrapping around me like a second skin. I rest my head against his shoulder, pretending this is normal, that my entire body isn’t on fire. His fingers brush against my arm, featherlight. I suck in a sharp breath and Aiden tenses, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers trace my skin, slow, testing and it’s suddenly too much.

I pull back, turning toward him, our faces inches apart. Big mistake.

Because now I can see everything. The way his chest rises and falls, his jaw tight with restraint. The way his eyes—black, endless, stormy with something unreadable—flicker down to my lips. Aiden exhales sharply, like he’s reached his breaking point.

And before I can say a single word, he kisses me. The moment his lips crash into mine, I forget how to breathe. It’s not soft, needy, raw, filled with everything we’ve been holding back. I gasp against him, my hands gripping his hoodie, pulling him closer even as he presses me deeper into the bed. He growls against my mouth, one hand cupping my jaw, the other gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like he’s afraid this is all some fever dream. I tug at his hoodie, needing more, needing to feel him. Aiden pulls away just enough to yank it over his head, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide with heat. I barely have time to take him

in before he’s kissing me again, deeper, slower this time. Like he wants to memorize me.

Like he’s afraid this will end too soon.

I slide my hands over his bare skin, feeling the sharp ridges of his muscles, the way his breath catches when I drag my nails down his back. He groans, pressing his forehead against mine.

What is he doing to me?