Crossing the Line

by Annabelle Eaton

  I really hate when he makes sense, it’s so bloody annoying, but it doesn't change anything. “I still can't. I'm scared,” I say and drop my gaze to my lap. It’s not often I admit something like that, but I am scared. I’m terrified of how I feel about him. What happens when he’s had enough of me too?

  He places a chaste kiss on my lips. “What about a compromise? What if you stay at your parents until you feel ready to move in with me.”

  “How's that a compromise? I don't want to be at my parents.”

  “Well you could spend most nights here. We can see how we'd work together, but you wouldn't officially live with me.”

  “Are you asking me to half move in?”

  “Maybe a little more than half. Stay here five nights a week, more if you want.” Anymore and I might as well just move in. He watches me closely, waiting for my answer with the most ridiculously hopeful expression. “Well?” he whispers.

  “I can live with that compromise, although I'll see how it goes at home. I still might look for a little place.” He frowns, probably thinking I’m mental for wasting hundreds of pounds a month on a place I'll only stay at two nights a week.

  My phone rings and I know I’ll be my mum. I hold my phone out to Aden. “Tell her I died.”

  He gives me a disapproving glare and answers. “Hello, Elizabeth... Yes, she's right here. Of course, I'll pass you over.” You utter bastard!

  I snatch the phone out of his hand and stick my middle finger up at him. “Hello, Mum.”

  “Amelie Cohen, what on earth got into you at dinner? Your behaviour was unacceptable-”

  “Mum, I can't talk right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don't want to.”

  “We'll I don't care what you want young lady.” Don’t I know it. “How dare you behave like that in front of our guests? I cannot believe-”

  “I really have to go, Mum.”

  “Amelie Cohen-”

  “Bye.” I hang up, resisting the urge to launch the fucking phone at the wall. She makes me so bloody angry I want to smash something.

  “You’re acting like a child,” he says and stands.

  “And you’re acting like an arse.” I take a deep breath. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just be normal? I feel like I’m almost drowning, clinging to the side of the pool by my fingertips. I want to be able to handle situations and disagreements with my family and my boyfriend properly, but I just see red.

  “Are you going to talk to me or not?” he asks, rocking on his heels.

  “I don’t want to argue. I’m sorry I overreacted.” I rub the ache in my forehead. He sits beside me and waits. He wants me to spill how I feel, but I’m scared of saying just how terrified I am of being rejected by him and my family. “Can we forget what happened tonight please?”

  “Sure. Are you tired?” he says.

  “No, I’d like sex. I want us to be okay again.” His eyebrows shoot up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be naked and in bed in five minutes.” I walk to the bathroom and hear his thudding footsteps on the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I wake up alone in bed. Where’s Aden? The bed is so warm and comfortable, far too warm and comfortable to be left. I groan and call out, “Aden.” What the hell can he be doing at stupid o’clock in the morning? Hmm what time is it? Looking over at the clock, I see the orange glow of 9:52am. All right, not so stupid o’clock!

  He walks in and smirks, probably at how awful I look in the morning. Well sorry guys, we don’t wake up with perfect make-up and flawless hair. “Good morning, sunshine.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Morning.”

  “Coffee and breakfast?”

  I frown in suspicion. “Why are you being nice?” Usually he’d tease for the sort of thing I did last night.

  “Sorry, should I be an arsehole?” He shakes his head. “You’re so confusing. Women complain that men treat them badly, but when you’re treated well, you complain still. We can’t win, can we?”

  “Nope. Never.” I throw my hands up and smile. “Welcome to a relationship.”

  “Hmm, I’ve heard that. Soon it’ll be sex once a week and BJs on special occasions!” I laugh and get out of bed, naked. Aden’s wearing a pair of grey tracksuit trousers that hang from his hips, making my mouth water. He gulps as his eyes run all over my body. Sex once a week definitely isn’t going to happen with us.

  His arms reach out for me, and I immediately snuggle into him. With one swift movement, I hook my hands over the waistband and shove his trousers down.

  Aden’s eyes widen. “You waste no time, huh? Do you have no shame?”

  “No. Bed. Now.”

  He groans and picks me up, making me gasp in surprise. Well this is a good start to my day. I wrap my arms around his neck as he lays us down. My body bursts to life as he presses his naked chest to mine. Our skin touching sends bolts of electricity through my whole body.

  He peppers kisses across my throat, and I moan loudly, bucking my hips to his. I want him now. His lips tongue grazes my skin as he makes his way lower, licking and kissing his way down between my breasts and belly.

  I gasp, arching my back, trying to get closer. His hot mouth on my skin is driving me crazy. I throb painfully, needing my release. “Aden, please,” I beg. Making me wait now is just cruel.

  He chuckles against the top of my pubic bone and moves left, kissing his way down the inside of my thigh. Shit! I clench down south and grip the sheets. Come on! I’m painting in anticipation.

  He slips two fingers inside, and I cry out, bucking my hips into his hand. I hear my pulse whooshing in my ears as I start to build. Aden’s tongue flattens over my clit and he presses down, moving in circles. Fuck! I push back, moving in sync, gripping the quilt until my hands ache.

  “Oh God.” It’s too good. His hand and tongue together rockets me to my orgasm, and I come hard, body shaking and spiralling into darkness.

  When I float back to earth, I push him on his back, and his eyes widen. “Amelie?” he says as I push his chest, lean down and kiss neck. “Hmm,” he murmurs, running his hands up my back. He arches his into my hand as I wrap it around his rock hard erection and pump slowly, teasing. “Baby,” he says in the same pleading tone I did before.

  He throws his head back as I part my lips over his head and suck gently, still pumping at the base. I take him deeper and suck hard. He moans, pushes himself up on his elbows, and arches his hips upwards again, forcing himself deeper into my mouth. I love this. I love that I can make him desperate for me. “Millie!”

  His swells in my mouth and I know he’s not going to be long. I pump harder, suck harder, taking him deeper and he explodes, throwing his head back and groaning from his throat. Hot come spurts into my mouth and I swallow, trying not to gag. I pull back, and I’m thrilled to see him lying down, eyes closed, mouth parted, panting.

  I hover above him, admiring his lightly tanned skin, full but not too full for a man lips and his dark lashes. “You’re watching me,” he says, eyes still closed and a smirk stretching across his face.

  “I am. I like looking at you.”

  His eyes flick open, and my heart skips a beat. I love him so much it’s overwhelming. My throat closes up, and I feel like I’m going to cry – what a fucking girl! He smiles and his almost dimple is here.

  He strokes his fingers across my cheek and along my lips. I stay still, heart ready to burst out of my chest. The way he’s looking at me is somehow more intimate than when he’s inside me. I want to hide away he’s making me feel so self-conscious, but at the same time, I love the intimacy. I need it.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and I blush.

  I don’t know how long we stayed in that position – me hovering over him, staring at each other, but soon Aden rolls us over and kisses me. His lips are sweet, moving against mine slowly.

  He positions himself at my entrance and the light; teasing pressure makes me dizzy. “I love you,” he murmurs against
my lips and eases himself inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist as we kiss passionately.

  His teeth graze my bottom lip, and I buck my hips, trying to get closer as I that familiar tightening makes my heart leap. This time is different; it’s tender and filled with love. I come in a rush, my orgasm rolling on and on.

  I lay my head on his chest, and we pant together, trying to get our breath back. I close my eyes as my feelings for him threaten to overwhelm and consume me. Aden makes me so happy it’s hard to believe it’s real sometimes. I’m not the type of girl that gets a guy like Aden but by some miracle I have.

  “What do you want to do today? Shopping?” I ask, planting a kiss on his sweaty chest. “Good choice. Get dressed.”

  His looks down at me and frowns. “Why bother asking if you've already made the decision?”

  “I’m meeting you halfway.”

  “And that was halfway, how?”

  “I think I'll buy some slutty underwear,” I say, knowing that’s exactly how to get him shopping, without moaning the whole time.

  His eyes brighten as I’d hoped. “Red slutty underwear?”

  Bingo. “Hmm yeah, I like red.”

  “Alright, I'm up.” He hops out of bed, eager. I watch the muscles in his body flex as he pulls back on his trousers. “You shower first, and I'll make the coffee.” I roll my eyes. Men are way too easy, mention something sexual or that can lead to sex, and they’re suddenly on the same page.

  Aden’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen – still shirtless – drinking coffee. My heart leaps and mouth waters. I pick up my drink and try to act casual, so he doesn’t think I’m some sort of sex-crazed pervert.

  “Why don't we invite your parents to dinner tonight? And mine,” Aden says.

  “Um, because I'd rather shove my head in an oven.” What the fuck? Why would we willingly do that?

  He cocks his head to the side. “Halfway, Millie.”

  I sigh. Damn I wish I’d never said that. “Is this really something you want to do?”

  “For our families to get along? Yes.”

  “They already get on.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s different now.”

  Does that really require dinner, though? Our families got on perfectly fine whether we’re together or not. It’s me that carries all of the issues around. I certainly don't want to spend any unnecessary time with them. “Fine, we can do the dinner,” I reply.

  “Good. I'll call my mum, you call yours.”

  I groan, wishing I wasn’t so crazy about him. No one else could get me to agree to this. Aden starts calling his mum, so I guess this is a do it right now thing. I dial home from my mobile.

  “Hello?” Mum answers on the fourth ring. Wow, she’s answered. The maid must off polishing Mum’s cauldron.

  “Hi, it's Amelie.” I take a deep breath. Just ask, Millie. “Would you and Dad like to come to dinner at Aden's tonight?” Please have something else on.

  “Oh.” She doesn't even try to disuse her surprise at being invited. “That would be lovely, Amelie. What time would you like us?”

  “Seven?” I look at Aden, and he nods. “Yes, seven.”

  “We'll be there. Are we your only guests?”

  “No. Aden's parents are coming too. At least I think they are, he's inviting them now.”

  “Well I do hope they can attend, even though this is very last minute.” Not last minute enough it would seem. “Are you inviting Oliver, Harriet, and Isabel too?”

  “I hadn't planned on it. I thought just us would be nice for our first time hosting. Although, if you want to bring Isabel, if she's free, that's fine with us.”

  “Thank you. I'll ask her when she wakes.” She’s still in bed. Lazy, lucky cow! “We'll see you tonight.”

  “Yep. Bye, Mum.”

  “Goodbye, Amelie.” I hang up and wish I'd never agreed to it in the first place. After last night… Oh, I suddenly realise this isn’t about his parents getting along with mine, it’s about me getting along with them. I frown. Meddling, sweet bastard. Part of me wants to yell at him, and the other part loves that he wants to try to fix it for me.

  “They're coming then?” Aden asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Mine are too. Now, what should we cook?” I let it go because I don’t want to fight and deep, deep down I suppose I do want to fix my relationship with them.

  “Domino’s pizza?” Aden rolls his eyes. “Supermarket then?”

  He nods. “I'll take you slutty underwear shopping another day. For now, I don't mind if you wear nothing.”

  “I bet,” I reply dryly.

  “Where do we start?” I ask, staring at all the ingredients laid out on the counter. Neither of us have cooked before, not a proper three course meal anyway. We can cook simple things like roast dinners, lasagne, enchiladas, and spaghetti Bolognese, but tonight is something else. Tonight is ridiculous. We should just serve a big lasagne and not care what they think.

  Aden scratches his jaw. “Err... I'll get the recipe book.” Because we’re not chefs, we’ve also bought a cookbook. “We need to start with the pork, it'll take the longest to cook.” I sigh and slam my head down on the counter. This is going to be a disaster. How do people do this for a living?

  I’m right. We have used every pot, pan and utensil that Aden owns. The cheesecake is the second one we’ve made, as the first one was a complete disaster. “We should never open a restaurant,” I mutter, stirring the homemade vegetable soup – one of Mum’s favourites. “I think we’re doing alright, though.” We are, considering we’re making a three-course meal, and I had the attention span of a two-year-old.

  “Tonight’s going to be perfect,” he replies. He’s happy, and I can’t help getting caught up and enjoying myself too. Growing up I’ve never felt good enough, my parents make me feel flawed and as much as I hate it, I’m worried that tonight will just be another page to add to the very full Amelie the Failure book.

  The doorbell rings and I put down the spoon. “I’ll get it.”

  Plastering on my best smile, I open the door to find my parents standing in front of me with big, almost scary looking smiles. I can see too much teeth. “Hi, Mum, Dad,” I say politely.

  “Hello, Amelie,” Mum replies and kisses my cheek. So far, so good.

  Dad hands Aden his jacket. “Thank you for inviting us. I’m sure there are many other things you would prefer to be doing on a Saturday evening than hosting dinner for your parents.”

  Yep, like sawing off my own arm.

  “No, we’re happy to have you over.” Man I lie well. Aden smiles down at me. and my heart gives a flutter. “Where’s Isabel?”

  “She’s unwell. Migraine,” Mum replies.

  Good. Well, not that she’s in pain, just that she’s not here. Actually I bet she feels fine but doesn’t want to come. “Oh. Well, I’ll pour the wine. Come through,” I say, leading them through just as Aden’s parents walk in the door.

  Aden’s place is amazing. I love it, and I’m going to live here – most of the time. “This is a lovely place, Aden,” Mum says, looking around. “Who did your curtains?”

  He frowns. “They were here when I moved in. They fit the white, so I left them.”

  Mum’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Oh. Well whoever they were, they had very good taste.” If this is the type of conversation I can expect tonight, I might shove my head in the oven.

  Aden nods. “They did.” I can tell that was bull. He couldn’t care less about curtains; they could have hung bin bags over the windows, and he would have just left them up. I bet if they took them with them he wouldn’t have any at all.

  Mum moves closer, invading my personal space. What’s she doing? “He’s definitely a keeper, Amelie. Though this place definitely needs a woman’s touch. I’ll help you.” She smiles brightly. Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Decorating with my mother. Decorating my boyfriend’s house, which I do not live in - full time anyway, with my mother. I feel like hyperventil
ating at the thought of turning Aden’s modern house into something straight out of a Better Home magazine. Just wait until she sees the piano then.

  “Sure,” I whisper hoarsely. How the hell can I get out of this one? I lead them into the kitchen, and Mum immediately spots the piano. She says nothing but I can tell she’s shocked.

  Aden soon joins us in the kitchen along with his parents. He cracks open wine for us and pours whiskey for himself, Richard and my dad.

  “My mum wants to decorate your place with me,” I hiss as I get three wine glasses out of the cupboard.

  Aden shrug. “Do whatever, within reason. I want you to feel at home here but no pink.” I take a step back, shocked. “Millie, I think I’ve made it clear that I want you to live with me. If adding some things that you like will get you to move in, I’m all for it.”

  I don’t quite know what to say to that. I feel my heart swell, and I know if I can say anything about how much I love him without crying. “As long as it’s not pink, huh?” I whisper.

  He kisses my temple. “No pink.” That isn’t a problem. Apart from a few cushions on the sofa and maybe a rug I wouldn’t want to change anything. I love his minimalistic house.

  “Okay,” I say in a daze. He really does want me to live with him, wow.

  “So have you planned a holiday together?” Collette asks as we sit around the dining table. Okay, odd question. She’s probably trying to figure out how serious we are so she can try to convince her son to run. Not happening, love!

  I swallow my mouthful of wine. “No, not yet. I’d love to go skiing, though.”

  “I never knew you wanted to go skiing, Amelie,” Mum says, frowning. “Why did you never say?”

  Maybe because we can never have a civil conversation that lasts longer than ten seconds. I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “We could have gone on many ski holidays. Your father and I love skiing, but your brother and sisters have never been keen.”

  My mouth pops open audibly. “You can ski?” I try to force the alien image of Mum on skis out of my head. Is she just making it up?