First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (159 page)

Whatever had him so irritated only moments ago has vanished, erased by the growing heat between us. I like this Arion much better.
 

“Do you want to take a nap before tonight?” Arion purrs against my ear, letting his breath warm my skin.
 

Tonight? What’s tonight? My brain’s taken a detour into sex-town, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Is that your way of saying you want to take me to bed?”

I’m not sure whether to call the sound he makes a groan or a hiss, but I know it’s driven by need. “While I would love nothing more than to take you—in bed or right here—no. I was referring to the fact that you slept like shit last night, and we’ll be up late tonight at the gala.
 
I thought you might want to nap first.”

Oh, right. I look up at him from beneath thick lashes, curling the side of my mouth into a half smile. “Bed sounds good.”
 

Judging by the way he draws tiny erotic circles with his thumb just beneath my jaw, he knows exactly what I mean. His fingers delve into my hair, capturing my focus.
 

And then I yawn.

Shit.

I guess bed is definitely on the agenda.
 

Arion leads me to the bedroom by the hand, and within minutes we’re spooned in bed together as I listen to his breath grow heavy with sleep. But despite how tired I am, for me slumber is an absent mistress, and my thoughts hover. The fear meticulously cultivated by Nick’s actions is never far away, but Arion’s tender, patient attention is slowly reawakening the bond he and I had.

I want to trust him. But can I?

Hell, I want to fuck him.
 

The problem is, wanting to and being able to are different things entirely. I fear his touch even as I crave it, and I know if he and I have sex, I’ll ruin it. If only he wasn’t so damn intoxicating.
 

My eyelids flutter open to someone standing over me.
 

“Chelsea! What the fuck?” I screech, nearly falling off the bed as I clamor to sit up.
 

She smiles sweetly. “You two look so cute. Now get moving, we have work to do.” She grabs my hand, tugging me away from Arion.

Arion groans and rolls onto his back, then squints at his step-sister. “What time is it?”

“It’s six. Time for us girls to get gorgeous for the gala.”

Arion holds my other hand, trying to keep me in bed. “She’s already gorgeous. Go away.”

Chelsea rolls her eyes and fixes me with a get-moving-like-yesterday-glare that could motivate stone. Arion is smart enough to know when he’s been beaten, and he releases me with only a small pout that makes him look almost innocent. Almost.

I hear him mutter something about taking away her key as she pulls me toward the bathroom where an avalanche of cosmetics has landed on the counter while we slept. “Jesus, Chelsea. I didn’t realize you intended to give me plastic surgery.” Yesterday, when she asked if I wanted to get ready together, it sounded like a good idea. Normal, even. It’s been so long since I’ve had a girlfriend. But now I’m thinking I might have been duped. Her and her brother are apparently both very good at making something outrageous sound innocent to get me to agree.

Or maybe I’ve forgotten how to say no.

Chelsea pats the counter in front of her. “Up.”

Like a well-trained dog, I hop up and sit on the counter, but I resist the urge to wag my ass for a treat. Barely.

“You and Axel looked cozy,” Chelsea says, flashing a knowing smile. Of course what she thinks she knows is wrong.

“It’s not what you think.” I bite my lip, trying to ward away my frown.

Chelsea dabs something from a white bottle onto a circular pad and begins assaulting my face with it. I’m not sure what it is, but my skin tingles. It’s not exactly unpleasant, just different.
 

“You aren’t screwing?” Her voice is laced tightly with skepticism.

“We’ve been taking it slow.” Like a pair of tortoises. We both want it and keep working toward it, but at this pace it seems like we aren’t making it anywhere.

Chelsea giggles, a pleasant, girlish sound that is at complete odds with her polished, elegant facade. “Will wonders never cease. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”

“Had what in him?” I speak through narrowed lips, willing myself not to move as Chelsea does something to my eyelashes with a silver contraption that looks like it was contrived in the Middle Ages.

“Don’t blink. And I didn’t think he was capable of something real. He’s finally moved past the trail of abandoned one-night stands.”

“Was he really that bad before?” Guilt curdles in the pit of my stomach.

“Girl, you don’t even want to know. Where’s your dress?”

“In the bedroom closet.”
 

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. Sharing his bed, his closet. At the rate he’s going, you’ll be sharing bank accounts and last names next week.”

Her words twist my guilt to nausea. Are we really moving that fast?
 

It’s so hard to look at my relationship with Arion objectively, considering how long we’ve know each other. Technically, we just met—in person—a few days ago. But he’s been a part of my life for over two years, and I’ve told him things I’ve never told anyone else. The day my cat died, I called him. When I got accepted into college, I called him.
 

And when I ran for my life, I ran to him.
 

He’s my rock. My safety net. And hopefully, soon he will be my lover. But we can’t be more than that, not yet. Until I can trust in my own judgment, I can’t truly give my heart to him.

Chelsea returns and hangs my dress on the back of the door beside hers while she finishes my makeup. The mirror is behind me, so I can’t see what she’s doing, and the more she flits around me with different powders and brushes, the more I worry. I’ve never been one to wear a ton of makeup, and while I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, I don’t think I’m going to look like myself.

Every time I try to steal a peek in the mirror, she holds my chin to stop me. “Be patient,” she scolds.

Done with my face—I hope—she starts on my hair.
 

“Is Dougie going to the gala as your date?” I ask, wondering if he’ll be able to, or if he’ll need to stay close to Vince.

Something darkens briefly across her expression, but is quickly replaced by a tight smile. “He’s coming.”

“Reluctant date?” I wince as she tugs a wide lock of my hair, then twists it around a roller.

“No, he’s more than happy to go. It’s just… How much as Axel told you about what to expect tonight?”

“Absolutely nothing.” It only now occurs to me I should have asked what sort of event this is.

Chelsea snorts. “Typical. Well, this gala is an awards presentation, combined with a silent auction to benefit charity.”

“That sounds like a good thing, right?” I haven’t ever been to a gala, but I’ve been to awards stuff for the school with my mom. It’s always cute, with lots of goodwill and fun. How different could this be?

“It is. But it also means that they’ve invited the snootiest, richest old biddies they can find. My mother does not approve of my dating Dougie, and because of that, she’s sullied his reputation to many of her and Tucker’s friends.”

Clarity is harsh and blinding. This isn’t an event held at a small public high school. This is a chance for the elite to show off their diamonds and trophy wives, while playing matchmaker with the next generation, under the guise of a good cause. “Will Axel’s dad disapprove of me, too?”

“No, Tucker will adore you, I’m sure. He’s different than my mom. She’s determined that I have to catch a rich man, like she did. To make it worse, half the men there our age will be the assholes she’s tried to set me up with.”

“If you dread it, why are you going?”
 

Done setting the last of my hair in rollers, Chelsea steps back, scrutinizing me. “Go ahead and get into your dress while I touch up my own makeup.”

Her makeup is already the epitome of perfection. Soft peach cheeks, shimmery intense eyeshadow and endless lashes curve above softly glossed lips. What she thinks she needs to touch up, I have no clue, but I keep my doubts to myself as she works her hair out of its loose ponytail.

Slipping into the silky folds of the black dress instantly brings the memory of Arion’s hands to the forefront of my mind, warming my cheeks. His experienced, intoxicating hands. Maybe tonight we’ll have an encore. I shake my head, shoving the horny teenager inside me into the passenger seat so the logical, rational Tess can take the wheel.

Fuck. I want him. Complications and commitments be damned.

Chelsea sweeps her hair into a stylish golden twist, securing it with a few bobby pins she holds between her lips until she needs them. Once she’s shimmied into the skin-tight, strapless sheath that she calls a dress, she helps me with my zipper. Her dress is nothing I’d ever wear, but she rocks it. The sapphire blue perfectly coordinates with her eyes, and she’s replaced her lipgloss with whore-red lipstick, and if I swung that way, even I’d be fawning all over her.
 

Arion knocks on the door. “You two ready yet?”

“Yeah, we were ready an hour ago. We’ve just been in here screwing since.” Chelsea looks at me and rolls her eyes. The doorknob starts to turn, and she shrieks. “Out!”

“I don’t share,” he warns through the cracked door.

Be still my heart. I know his words should scare me, because there is no doubt that he means every possessive syllable of them. Yet for some reason, they don’t. Much.

Chelsea starts plucking rollers out of my hair, and I turn to the mirror to watch, catching my first sight of my makeup. My cheeks have a natural glow, my lips are an almost-nude pink. Other than my eyes, you’d never know I wore makeup at all. And… Oh! Wow, my eyes are just wow. She’s made them seem like big, innocent anime eyes hidden beneath smoldering shadow and thick lashes.

Pride gleams in her eyes as she arranges my hair in soft waves around my shoulders.
 

I look…like a grownup. But more importantly, I look whole. Somehow, tonight, I’ve found another part of myself.

I turn toward her, overcome with gratitude. “Thank you.” My words are breathy, full of emotion.

“Whatever. Yadda, yadda. Rusty spoon. You know the drill. Just make him happy.” Her smile holds all the softness her words don’t as she gives me a gentle nudge toward the door. “All right, Heartbreaker. You’re on.”

Twenty Four

Arion

When Angel steps out of the bathroom, my heart stops. Like literally fucking stops. She’s brain-blowingly beautiful, and she’s staring at me with fuck-me eyes. Lord have mercy, how in the hell am I going to make it through tonight? It’s been agony trying not to push her too far, too fast. The stench of knowing what Nick did to her rots in my brain, a constant reminder that I need to treat her with care. I know she wants me, but I’ve got to be sure that when we move forward, she truly wants to, not that she’s just playing a part or doing what she thinks she should.
 

And I’ve got to know that she’s capable of telling me to stop—that she can say no.

At last my heart figures out how to function again, though it’s still spasming in my chest. “Wow.” Getting out that one word took a feat of Herculean strength; her beauty is that stunning. But it’s not from the dress—though the dress looks fantastic. I have incredible taste, after all. And it’s not from the way her hair tumbles around her, begging me to run my fingers through it. It isn’t even from the flirty, strappy heels that make me imagine those legs of hers wrapped around me.

It’s from her. Tonight, without a doubt, the Angel I know is shining through.
 

“You like?” she asks.

The dress flares around her thighs, fluttering enticingly as she prowls toward me, begging me to unwrap her. It’s like fucking wrapping paper.
 

No.
 

Shit. No unwrapping.
 

Presents.

I’m so fucked. My brain has detoured into happy land, and I can’t manage a coherent thought. “I’ve got a present for me. I mean for you.” Fuck.
 

Angel rests her hand lightly on my chest, her fingers wandering beneath the edges of my tux jacket. Her eyes drop to my waist, where I’m sure the bulge is visible. “For me?”

I groan. “Only for you baby.” My rapidly tightening pants don’t make it easy to pull the long, thin box out of my pocket, but I manage. Angel’s eyes follow my hands as I slowly open the lid.
 

A diamond bracelet lies cradled on a bed of blue satin, along with a pair of dangling teardrop earrings—clustered diamonds set in white gold. Their brilliant sparkle is nothing compared to the sparkle in Angel’s eyes. She reaches out to touch them, and I snap the lid closed, doing my best impression of Richard Gere. And yes, I’ve seen Pretty Woman. Hasn’t everyone?

Angel laughs and smacks me on the arm before snatching the box out of my hand. “Will you put the bracelet on me?”

A tiny shiver rocks her shoulders as my hands lightly graze her wrist in the process of securing the clasp. I study her expression, looking for any indication she might be afraid or about to freak, but I find none. From what I can tell, she’s calm and in control. Which means that was a shiver of pleasure, I realize with satisfaction.

Chelsea comes out of the bathroom just in time to see her slip the earrings in, her eyes growing wide as she looks between me and Angel. Her lips press into a silent line at my warning glare, but I know I’ll hear something about this later. Chelsea was the one who found my mom’s old jewelry at the farmhouse, and she brought it to me to keep her mother from getting it, so she knows exactly where the diamonds came from. I don’t want to think about my mom tonight, or any night, but I knew Angel would look beautiful in this set.

I lean forward, pressing a small kiss to Angel’s temple, then whisper, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Angel. I don’t know if Chadwell Farms will win any awards tonight, but I’ll definitely be the luckiest man in the room.”