Page 8

CHAPTER 8

ARIELLA

S werving my car into the drive, I pulled to a stop in front of the three-car garage, noting that Zaiden's bike wasn't parked in its usual location. Grabbing my bag, I bolted for the house, hoping to get in, showered, and dressed before Zaiden ever pulled into the driveway.

Throwing open the front door, I stormed inside, dropping my bag in the doorway and bolting for the stairs.

I shrieked when my mom appeared out of an open doorway.

"Oh good." My mom's lips curved into that particular smile, the one that said she'd won something. "You didn't respond to my message, so I was worried you would purposely miss dinner."

"Nope." The word crawled from my throat. "I'm here. I'm going to get a shower and change."

"Perfect, I left you something on your bed to wear tonight."

I rolled my eyes. "I can dress myself."

She smoothed her already-perfect hair. "Of course, you can, dear. I just wanted to do something nice."

I shook my head and forced a smile. "Great." I didn't have time to argue if I was going to be dressed and downstairs before Zaiden got home. "I'll be down for dinner in a few."

I took the stairs two at a time and burst into my bedroom. The lock clicked into place behind me, not that it mattered in this house. Last night's bathroom incident had proven that much.

My gaze landed on the dress my mother had left.

"This is what we wear to dinner?" I shook my head. The dress was beautiful, but it belonged on a beach date, not a family dinner.

It was a short white summer dress with a lacy V-neck top and spaghetti straps. I snatched the dress off the bed, a pair of sandals, and a white lace thong and bolted for the shower.

It took me exactly seventeen minutes to shower, dress, do my hair, add a little bit of makeup, and race down the stairs, and I managed to do it all without interruption from Zaiden. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I squared my shoulders with a grin, feeling like I'd won a round. It sounded stupid, but I'd take even the smallest win right now.

I strolled through the living room and stopped in the entranceway to the large dining room. My gaze landed on Zaiden standing next to the eight-person mahogany dining table with only four of the eight chairs around it.

Fuck.

That meant Mommy dearest already had our seats picked out, and I was almost positive mine would be next to Zaiden.

Zaiden stood in black joggers and a white WBU Predators hoodie, casual, like he'd walked in from practice. So my mother only dictated my wardrobe. Great.

His eyes found mine.

I tried to look away. Failed. His greyish-blue gaze held me for a beat, then dropped, raking over me with deliberate slowness.

He licked his lips.

Like he was starving.

Like I was his snack.

He stepped forward but stopped when my mother appeared from the kitchen. "Oh good, you're here," my mother smiled, setting a water pitcher on the table. "You and Zaiden will sit there." She pointed to two chairs side by side, directly across from where my mother and Dennis would be sitting.

He obviously didn't want to cause a scene in front of our parents, so I thought I was safe through dinner anyway. I stepped forward, wrapping my hands around the outside of the chair as my mother disappeared back into the kitchen.

The heat of Zaiden's firm body surrounded me as he pressed his front to my back, and I froze when his hands curled around my hips. His masculine scent wrapped around me, and I breathed him in. "You look like you want to be bent over this table and thoroughly fucked," he whispered against my ear.

"I do," I smirked, pulling my chair out and bumping him off me. "Just not by you." Sliding around the chair, I sank into the seat, pretending to be completely unfazed by him.

"Is that so?" He slid into the chair beside me, one eyebrow arched, mouth curling into a dangerous grin. "Do you have someone in mind?"

"Someone who can fuck me thoroughly." I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "So I guess anyone other than you would do."

A low laugh rumbled from his chest. "That sounded like a challenge, baby girl."

I rolled my eyes as I reached for the water glass.

"Keep your hands on the table tonight." The command came out in a rushed whisper.

My gaze snapped to his. "Where else would I?—"

"Dinner is ready!" My mother appeared in the doorway, her smile fixed in place. "Dennis?" She leaned toward the living room, her voice sharpening. "Dennis?"

Zaiden's father appeared from the living room entrance into the dining room and slid into his seat without looking up from his phone. Dennis was significantly older than my father. He was tall like Zaiden and had similar facial features, but his hair was salt and pepper with more salt than pepper.

Everyone passed around the decorative ceramic dishes, loading their plate with food before taking the next one. My mother was a terrible cook, but there was one thing she'd always made well because it was something that she and my grandmother made once a week: pot roast with mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. It was the only meal she made that was edible.

"This is so nice, isn't it?” My mother paused for effect. "Having the whole family together in one room."

Dennis hummed without looking up from his phone.

I rolled my eyes. This wasn't my family, and I wasn't theirs.

My mother's smile brightened. "So, Zaiden. It must be nice having your sister at school with you."

I coughed, nearly choking on the mashed potatoes I was about to swallow as my gaze flashed up, widening on her. She was completely oblivious to what she'd said. I wasn't Zaiden's sister. His sister was dead. I flicked a sideways glance at him to see if he was about to lose his shit or play into my mother's delusion.

"My sister?" he repeated as a question before his gaze shifted to me. "Yeah." His gaze dropped to my chest. "It's nice having my sister around." I froze when his large hand curled around my bare knee.

My gaze flashed to him, glaring in warning.

What the fuck was he doing?

"Oh shoot," my mother said. "I forgot the rolls." She pushed back from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

My hand sank below the table, wrapping around his wrist and shoving his hand away, but he didn't move.

"Hands on the table." The command slipped under his breath, barely audible but unmistakable.

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head as my eyes darted to his dad, then back.

He held his phone between us—the video of me and Coach Palmer playing silently.

"Hands." His voice dropped an octave. "On the." Each word was as precise as a knife point. "Table."

My chest rose and fell with deep breaths as fear and anger pushed up my throat. The worst thing that could happen was for Zaiden to show my mother that video. It would only give her something else to hold over my head for the rest of my life. I would rather lose my scholarship than have my mom see that video.

Dropping my gaze to my plate, I swallowed my anger as I pulled my hand out from underneath the table and placed it flat.

"That's a good girl," he whispered so only I could hear him. Not that his dad would hear it if Zaiden were hanging upside down from the chandelier, shouting it. "Now spread your legs for me, baby." I shook my head. He laughed, hitting play on the video again.

"Fine," I whispered, stiffening my spine as I spread my legs for him. "Put the video away."

"Here we go," my mother said, setting a basket of rolls on the table. "So where were we?" She slid back into her seat.

My stomach fluttered, and my heart pounded when he trailed his fingertips up my inner thigh and under my dress.

"Is something wrong with the food, Ari?” my mother asked, zeroing in on my plate. I shook my head. "Well, eat, dear."

"Yeah," Zaiden added. "You should eat."

My jaw clenched as I forced a smile and picked up my fork. I didn't want to eat; I wanted to throat punch him. I shoved my fork into the mashed potatoes and then brought the fork to my lips. He groaned as he ran his fingers over the damp material of my panties.

"So, how's the dance team going, Ari?" My mother asked.

"Good," I huffed out, completely focused on what Zaiden's hand was doing.

"Well, tell me about it," my mother insisted.

"Yeah," Zaiden added as his fingers found my clit making little circles around it. Teasing. Taunting me. The thin material of lace between my legs brushed against my clit with every circle making my breath hitch. "Tell us about it."

My cheeks heated with embarrassment as his hand continued to stroke me, and all eyes except Dennis's were on me. "Um," I cleared my throat, trying to focus on my words and not his fingers. "It's fun, and Journey and Mila are on the team." He added more pressure, and my stomach muscles clenched. A moan pushed past my lips.

"What was that, dear?" my mother asked.

"Nothing," I snapped, gripping the edge of my plate with both hands. "I was just saying I can't wait for the season to kick off."

"Any new boyfriend prospects?" She smiled.

"Yes," I moaned, and he pinched my clit through my panties. It was a warning. "I mean, um, no."

My body vibrated with the effort to maintain composure. One wrong breath and I'd?—

Crash!

Zaiden's plate hit the floor. "Shit," he muttered, never pausing his torturous rhythm beneath the table.

"Oh dear." My mother pushed her chair back.

Fuck!

"No." Zaiden's voice hardened. "Stay. I'll get it."

My mother nodded and pulled her chair back to the table as Zaiden sank below the table.

"He's such a good boy," she mouthed, and all I could do was nod. She had no idea.

"Well, don't worry about boys too much, dear," my mother said, picking up the conversation right where we left off. "There will be plenty of time for that."

I nodded, sucking in a tiny gasp as his lips met my outer thigh. I stared forward as Zaiden shifted under the table. "I like my teachers too," I said, trying to keep her attention on me and not on what Zaiden was doing on the floor. He worked his fingers, adding the perfect amount of pressure that lit my body on fire.

The heat was a slow roll as it swept over me, making my legs tremble and my stomach quiver. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, and I bucked my hips forward into his touch, chasing the feeling. He ran his tongue over my thigh, and I dropped my head and bit down so hard on my cheek I tasted blood as I exploded like a rocket at the dinner table sitting across from my mom and his dad.

"Are you okay, dear?" My mother asked. "You look flushed."

My body relaxed, and I nodded as I tried to steady my breathing. His hands were gone.

"Are you getting it, Zaiden?" my mother asked.

"Yep," he said, appearing from underneath the table with his plate. "Just needs to be mopped."

"Well, don't worry about that," she smiled. "I'll have Gisselle get it after we are done." Gisselle was the Knight's full-time housekeeper.

"Are you not hungry, Ari?" My mother asked.

"I thought dinner was delicious," Zaiden smirked, bringing his fingers that just gave me a mind-blowing orgasm to his lips and licked them clean. My stomach fluttered, and I realized exactly what he meant.

"Dinner was great," I said. I needed space from Zaiden Knight. "But I'm tired, and I still have some schoolwork to do. So, I need to excuse myself."

"Of course," my mother said. "I would like to do these family dinners at least once a week if you two could make time." My gaze shifted to Dennis, who hadn't said a word or even looked up from his phone once.

"I think that's a great idea, Claire," Zaiden said. His tone was so nauseously nice that I wanted to vomit. She had no idea that he meant he would love to torture me once a week at the dinner table. He enjoyed seeing me squirm.

"Great," she said, sounding pleased. "You two have a good night."

I pushed out of my chair and bolted for the stairs, hoping to make it to my room, and lock the door before Zaiden was out of his seat. I crossed the doorway into my room and threw the door shut, but I was too slow. Zaiden caught the door before it closed.

"I'll scream." The threat spilled out as he advanced, and I retreated.

"No, you won't." The corner of his mouth hooked upward. "I missed you in the locker room today."

I lifted one shoulder in feigned indifference. "I decided to come home and change."

"The clock is ticking, Ariella," he warned. "If you don't inform the entire football team that you belong to me, I will, and I promise you will wish you did." He turned, walked out of my room, and closed the door behind him.

I had no intention of telling anyone I belonged to Zaiden because I didn't belong to anyone. I was only okay with the football team claiming me because it should have kept Zaiden away from me, and it would have if he hadn't had that video.

I just had to wait him out and hope he got bored.