“Okay. Well, do you want to know what I said in my interview?”
The prospect nearly makes my ears twitch.
“I can tell you do.” He chuckles low. “You’re in luck. I’ll be honest, even if you refuse to play fair. I told Tina that I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.”
My breath catches in my throat. Did he really just say that?
“You—you did?” I stutter.
“Yes,” Aaron says, completely serious.
The Ferris wheel’s lights illuminate the sincerity in his eyes. I gulp, heart racing and head reeling. Aaron’s face edges closer to mine, and his hand trails up my back to cradle my head.
“That’s pretty cool,” I say.
Aaron blinks.
He doesn’t have to say a thing; I’ve messed up.
I’m always doing this with him—putting walls up. It doesn’t occur to me to be completely honest with Aaron, or anyone else for that matter, because that would mean risking getting hurt.
But doesn’t keeping my heart’s desires to myself mean committing myself to an even worse fate? One where I never get the happiness I really want, because I’m always too chicken to go after it?
“I feel the same,” I say in a rush, before I second-guess myself too much and end up staying silent.
Aaron’s lips turn up into a smile, and his fingers thread through the back of my hair.
“I do,” I confirm. God, it feels so good to say it.
“So, is that what you told Tina?” he asks.
“You’re still after that answer, huh?”
“I can’t help it. I’m curious.”
“I told Tina that I’ve had mostly bad dating experiences and that you…this feels different.”
Aaron’s thumb makes circles against the base of my head. It’s hard to know what to make out of his silence, but at least he’s still touching me. There are no signs of him drawing away.
“It feels different for me, too,” he says as his warm breath tickles my skin.
The next thing I know, his lips are closing over mine. Our mouths pulse together as if they’ve done it a million times. It’s a dance that never gets old.
The kiss deepens, heat rising from my core. Aaron draws me closer to him so that I’m practically in his lap.
Suddenly, I remember that we’re on a Ferris wheel, surrounded by dozens of other people, some of them kids. With an embarrassed giggle, I break away from him.
“This ride is too long,” Aaron says, his hands clinging to mine.
“Tell me about it. I wish we were at home.”
“Me, too.” He rubs his nose against my neck.
Home.
It’s strange how easy it is for me to call the Santa Monica place that. I realize now that, in a way, it’s the first place that’s felt like a home since I left Texas. My apartment with Molly is cozy, but it’s always felt so temporary, like a stopping point on my way to something better.
It’s not the lavish qualities of the Santa Monica house that make it seem like a sanctuary. It’s the person I’ve been sharing it with.
As if hearing our desire, the ride starts slowing. I squeeze Aaron’s hand in excitement, except…
“How are we going to get home?” I ask.
“I wrote down the number for the cab company.” He winks. “I’ll call from the first place I can find a phone.”
“Good thinking.”
Throwing myself into his arms, I give him one more hard kiss before we get off the Ferris wheel. On the walk to a snack stand to ask to use a phone and then to the end of the pier to wait for the cab, it’s near impossible to keep our hands off of each other. Each time I touch Aaron in one place, I think of another spot I’d like to get to.
Somehow, we manage to keep it PG both on the street and in the cab. Aaron’s arm is plastered to my waist the whole time and my hand to his chest, and the contact only heightens the tension.
By the time we make it to the house, it feels like I might explode if I don’t get the chance to undress him and have my way. The van that was in the driveway earlier is gone, thank goodness. We won’t have to sneak in through the neighbor’s yard.
Still holding tight to each other, Aaron unlocks the front door of the house and we slip inside.
We don’t even bother turning the foyer’s light on. The dark is no hindrance. Our lips easily find their way to each other, as if they’re taking a path that was long ago learned.
Aaron’s firm grip closes on my ass. Next thing I know, he’s lifting me up and depositing me on the side table that’s pushed against the foyer’s wall. Lips still locked, I wrap one leg around his waist, pressing the heel of my boot into his firm rear end.
His crotch bumps against my inner thigh, revealing that he’s already fully erect. A noise of want gurgles from my throat, and I dig my hands into his shoulders.
Aaron knows exactly what I’m hungry for. His hands travel up and down my back and front, feeling and worshipping every part of my body they can get to. One of them settles on my breast, squeezing slightly through my dress.
My nipples are rock-hard, aching for attention. Sweeping my tongue against his teeth, I arch my back, pushing my breast hard against his palm.
Somehow, he gets even closer. My legs stretch out on either side of his hips, exposing the delicate area in between them that’s only hidden by a thin layer of fabric.
The bulge in Aaron’s pants presses against my panties and twitches, and it’s then that I realize I’m soaking wet down there. Aaron senses it, too. His fingers press against the damp fabric, and I feel his smile on my lips.
Pushing my panties to the side, he edges two fingers into my opening. My body presses greedily against his hand, drawing him deep into me.
We tongue desperately as he works at me, bringing me pleasure that makes my legs shake and my skin heat up like we’re in a sauna. Right when it feels like I might explode, he slows down the pace, teasing me so that I never get the release my body craves.
I’m whimpering, wiggling and grinding against his hand. Aaron doesn’t listen, though. He’s in charge.
Reaching under his arm, I unzip his pants and find his warm, welcome length. It heats up the palm of my hand, and as I stroke it, Aaron hums through our kiss.
The head of his dick brushes against my lower lips, creating an electric shock that has us both vibrating. He edges forward only an inch, and his thick girth is inside of me.
It’s a feeling of completeness that matches no other. With our bodies and souls intertwined, we fall into a rhythm. Aaron takes the lead, pounding into me. The desk hits the wall over and over again, creating a continuous banging that echoes in the cavernous house.
The control that he teased me with earlier is long gone. The full power of our desire has been unleashed, and we can’t be stopped or reined in. We tug at each other’s clothes; there’s a rip of fabric, and who knows if it’s his shirt or my dress.
My pleasure peaks, and I cry out with the orgasm. Aaron picks up the pace, his frantic motion rocking the desk so hard that I have to hold onto the edges to make sure I don’t fall off.
He withdraws from me with a gasp. I’m kissing his face, his neck, his ear. Everything is dark, and hot, and perfect, and I never, ever want to be anywhere else. There’s no way anything in this whole world can be better than this moment.
Aaron sweeps me into his arms, carrying me away from the table and toward the stairs.
“I hope we didn’t ruin the wall,” I say.
“Eh. We probably did.”
That makes me laugh so hard my whole body shakes. By the time Aaron reaches my room, which we’ve both been sleeping in, he’s laughing as well.
When he lays me on the bed, we’re still laughing.
As he undresses to his boxers and gets under the covers with me, we’re still laughing.
I’m sure that, at some point, we fall asleep, but I don’t remember it. I’m too preoccupied with being happy.
Chapter 19
Rising from the pool, I pad over to the lounge chairs spread in the sun and drop onto the closest one. The sun warms the beads of water clinging to my skin, creating that delicious sensation that only happens when part of you is cold and the other is hot, like when your back is pressed to a warm car seat and your front is chilled by an air conditioning set on high.
Closing my eyes, I sigh happily and stretch out. There was no filmed date today, which was a rarity. Instead of having to get dressed up and go out with the crew, Aaron and I got to spend the whole day at home.
What that means is swimming, sex, sunbathing, and more sex. You’d think we were looking to break a record.
I can’t help it. Every time I set eyes on him, I’m filled with immediate need. The last week has passed in a total blur. There have been the scheduled dates: an amusement park, mini golf, a romantic candlelit dinner followed by dancing. It’s the moments when we’re alone that stand out best in my memory, though.
The sound of the sliding door opening makes me smile. I don’t open my eyes, but I feel when Aaron is next to my chair. His lips meet mine in a tender kiss, and I reach up to loop my arms around his neck.
“More,” I whine.
“Sure thing,” Aaron chuckles, taking a seat on the edge of my lounge chair. His hand settles on my thigh, and he kisses me long and deep.
“That’s better,” I coo.
“We need to get in as much as we can. Tomorrow is our last day in the house. It’ll be back to real life, soon.”
My stomach plummets. That’s right. Tomorrow will be two weeks of living together. We’ll go in front of the cameras tomorrow for another round of interviews, and then we’ll have a “decision ceremony,” as Tina called it, where we will each cast our vote for whether we’ll stay married or not.
Obviously, if we both say yes, then we stay married. If one of us says no, then we get a divorce.
Aaron and I haven’t talked about this at all. I guess I’ve been putting off even thinking about it. The answer isn’t as simple as “yes” and “no.”
Aaron pats my leg. “Are you hungry? What should we make for dinner?”
“Um, I’m not that hungry. Anything, I guess.”
He frowns. “Do you want dinner?”
“Sure. Yes.” My brain’s all foggy. “I think there’s a frozen pizza in there. How about that?”
“Sound good. I’ll go preheat the oven.” He gives my knee a squeeze and goes back into the house.
My heart races. How is it possible that we’ve gone the last week without broaching such an important topic?
It doesn’t really matter. The important thing is that the clock is ticking, and I don’t want to be surprised tomorrow when I hear Aaron’s answer.
More importantly, I don’t want to be surprised when I hear my own answer. I don’t know what the right choice is. Aaron feels like such a big part of my life; I can’t let him go.
But does that mean we need to stay married? Which would be worse for a burgeoning relationship: staying married or getting divorced?
Thinking about it makes my head hurt, which is why I need Aaron’s assistance.
Leaving the poolside, I trudge upstairs and hop into the shower. Aaron doesn’t join me like he sometimes does, and I’m kind of glad for it. A bit of breathing room to get my thoughts in order is a nice thing.
I take my time getting dressed, slipping into some soft, flowy boho pants and a tank top. If only I could talk to Molly about this. Those few minutes I got with her on the phone last week were way too short.
She’d have some sort of fresh perspective on this situation, I’m sure. It’s one of the reasons we’re so good together. We often tend to look at the same topic in different ways, which usually helps open our eyes.
In the hallway, I cast a longing gaze at the house next door, visible through a window. Logically, nothing’s stopping me from going over there, knocking on the door, and asking to use a phone.
Oh, except that pesky little contract I signed.
Checking a sigh, I make my way downstairs. Aaron’s sliding a frozen pizza into the oven. Because I desperately need something to do, I grab one of the oranges from the fruit bowl on the island and roll it around in my hands.
“Should be ready in fifteen.” Aaron smiles at me. “How was your shower?”
“Wet.”
He laughs, completely oblivious to my souring mood.
“I was looking through the DVDs,” he says, “and I found a good one we haven’t seen yet.”
By “good” he probably means “bad.” It’s become a nightly tradition of ours to select any movie that looks cringe-worthy and pop it in the player.
“Great.” The lump in my throat stops me from saying any more.
But I need to.
Are we gonna stay married?
The words are right there. Why can’t I get them out? It’s like they’re stuck in my body.
“It’s pepperoni, by the way,” Aaron says. “Is that okay?”
“Yes.” My attention is on the orange. I get to peeling it while Aaron cleans up the dishes left over from the day.
He chats while he straightens up, talking about all the movies we’ve watched over the last week and which ones are his favorites. I chime in here and there but keep my attention on the orange. Once it’s peeled, I methodically eat one section at a time. It gives me something to focus on so that I don’t have to think too much about other things.
The smell of pizza fills the kitchen, and Aaron turns off the oven. Wordlessly, I get plates down and fill two glasses with water. It’s all Aaron drinks, other than wine.
The level of comfort we have is almost scary. Thinking about it brings tears to my eyes, which I quickly blink away before Aaron can spot them. We carry the dinner to the living room, where I settle on the couch while he puts the movie in.
It’s a lot like the first time we watched a movie in this room, in that my attention’s not on the TV at all. I keep thinking of ways to bring up the topic of tomorrow.
Worst of all, I keep wondering why he hasn’t said anything. Aaron doesn’t seem to be as nervous and wracked with self-doubt as I am. He’s always come across as confident.
The pizza feels like rocks going down my gullet and settling into my already heavy stomach. Aaron finishes his in no time at all.
“How about popcorn?” he says, standing with his empty plate.
Since I can’t look him in the eye, I pretend to be absorbed in the movie. “Sure.”
“Be right back. Want anything else?”
“I’m good.”
Alone in the living room, I take a deep breath and run through possible opening lines.
Hey, you know that thing we’re doing tomorrow? No big deal, but, uh, do you maybe want to talk about the life-changing decision we’ll be making?
No. That sounds sarcastic.
Let’s stay married!
Wait, no. That’s not what I want.
Let’s get divorced!
Shit. That’s not what I want, either.
There’s no perfect way to bring this up. I’ll have to bite the bullet and go for it.
My heart pounding, I launch myself from the cushion before I have the chance to second-guess myself. If I wait for Aaron to come back to me, I could very well chicken out.
I walk for the kitchen and the sound of popcorn being made. Aaron says something, and I stop, about to respond.
But he’s not being loud enough that he’s calling for me. In fact, his voice is really low, like he’s trying to keep it down. I didn’t hear it until I entered the foyer.
Is he talking to himself?
That’s really something I shouldn’t intrude on, but the current situation makes me tow my moral line a bit. If he’s working out what to do about us, I certainly want to hear about it.
Edging forward, I sneak to the doorway, making sure to stay out of sight.
“…trust me,” he says. “I know about the money. I’ve seen the same figures you
have…We can’t have something like that hold us back…What? No, Rachel doesn’t know where the ceremony is.”
My heart launches itself into my throat. Ceremony?
What…the…hell?
I peek around the doorway, and it’s as I suspected. Aaron is talking on a cell phone. Behind him, the microwave beeps and goes dark. He doesn’t move to take the popcorn bag out.
“…I’m about to put the phone away,” he says, “I don’t have much time.”
More like, he doesn’t have any time at all. Stepping into the doorway, I clear my throat.
Aaron’s eyes go wide, and his jaw drops. Folding my arms, I stare hate fire at him.
“Actually,” he says into the phone, “I’ll call you back in a little bit.”
Not waiting for a response from whoever is on the other end, he hangs up and puts the phone on the counter.
“Rachel…”
“You have a phone?”
His lips press together. He doesn’t want to answer.
“Obviously, you have a phone.” I wave my hand at it. “How long have you had it for? The whole two weeks we’ve been here?”
“Yes,” he says, the answer so small it’s a wonder I hear it.
“And who were you talking to?”
His throat rolls with a swallow. “One of the show’s producers.”
The room darkens and spins. I reach out to the doorframe to keep myself standing straight.
“Rachel, I have to tell you something.” He starts walking for me.
“Yeah, obviously,” I hiss, the venom in my voice halting him in his path. “You’re in with the production? What, are you giving Tina the scoop on me and you? Has what’s been happening between us even been real?”
My words dry up. I can’t go on. Of course this little romance isn’t real. If it were, Aaron would have told me more about his life. We would have made plans to see each other after the show ends.
I’m such an idiot that it defies all logic, and yet here I am, staring at a man that I somehow convinced myself I could have a future with.
“Yes, what we have is real.” Aaron pauses and stares. “At least, it is for me,” he says when I don’t respond.
I don’t know what to say. The truth is crumpled up like pieces of trash, and it’s all his fault. My feelings for Aaron have been real, but what does that matter when he’s been lying to me this whole time?
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