Wake Me Up (Love Knows No Boundaries) (3 page)

I stop outside the apartment block and watch her
tug at her seatbelt as if it will just spring loose on her command. Like I said, real cute.

“Let me get that for you
.”

I reach over and unsnap her
, but before I can pull back her hands are soft on my face and slip into my hair, pulling me in.

All kinds of dammits.

“Wow, they do get more intense when I touch your face,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“What?”

“The tingles,” she admits with her new-found drunken bravery.

I meant to put her to bed. I meant to be a gentleman. But there is only so much a man can take.

Her hot mouth presses against mine and she teases me with those full lips I’ve been staring at. The second her tongue slips over my bottom lip, I grab for her hips, pulling her to my side of the car. I bring her leg over me so she’s straddling me. Just a little taste. I’ll allow myself a small taste of paradise.

Then she
moans and opens her mouth, and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of heaven’s bliss. I thought I‘d been to heaven and back before, but this is different. She has me standing on the edge of the unknown, and when our tongues meet, I want to just free-fall. I dig my fingers into her hips, tugging her closer, and another moan drifts up her throat.

I slip my hand up the back of her shirt
, brushing her soft skin. I nip at her bottom lip. I’ve been wanting to do that since I spotted the tiny freckle Katia tried to wipe off earlier. I should thank Katia. If it wasn’t for her unwanted attention, Emma wouldn’t be sitting on my lap right now.

The though
t makes me hold her tighter, pressing her body into mine. She hums her approval as my fingers trail up her smooth skin towards her neck. Her shirt inches up with my arm, and I bring my other hand up to her exposed ribs. She feels so good.

I should take her up. I should put her in bed. I shouldn’t touch her. I shouldn’t kiss her.

She pulls away and takes hold of my h
and resting on her ribs. Now there’s a lot I should’ve done and there’s a lot I shouldn’t be doing, but when she slips my hand under her shirt and presses it hard against her breast, it’s game over.

Just one more slip of my han
d and the slight piece of lace is no longer in my way, I have full access to all that soft flesh. The warmth of her skin, the hardening bud, coupled with her grinding her pelvis down into me, is unbelievably erotic.

“Dammit, you’re hot,” I grow
l, before crushing my mouth against hers.

She kisses me back with the same
maddening frenzy, then she takes hold of my shirt, slipping her hands in underneath. I take hold of her hair, tilting her head. I break the kiss so I can taste her neck. Her skin is all creamy, and I start beneath her ear, working my way down to her neck. She moans and I feel the vibration against my lips.

Then she surprises me by trailing her hands down and taking hold of my pants.
She grinds down real hard into me, making my vision blur for a second. This is not good, I’m definitely not going to be able to keep control of anything if she goes down there.

Her fingers slip
just in, brushing my overly sensitive skin, and the world spins out of control around me.

Her mouth brushes
my ear, making my body ache for her. “Do you want me to beg?” she whispers, and it’s just about the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Hell no,” I groan.

It takes me mere seconds to get us out of the car and up the stairs.

It only ta
kes one second to cool us both right on down.

“Aiden! Oh, good,
you found Emma.” Ms. Jessie. There is nothing like Ms. Jessie to sober you up, cool you down and put you back on the straight and narrow. It’s like your grandmother walking in on you.

“I found
Emma?” I’m completely lost as I stand with my arm around her feeling her whole body stiffen next to me.

“Your roommate. She came
early and I let-” Ms. Jessie’s eyes widen and we hear a garbled ‘pardon me’ before Emma runs for my door.

I see her take the key from her pocket
, and really it should all start making sense by now.

Miss Jessie continues making no sense at all.
“I went and got it wrong on the application. You see, she’s a girl and not a guy like I’d gone and thought.” 

Wait?
Emma’s my roommate? Emma is E. Walker?

Why didn’t I
see that one coming? Damn, all kinds of dammits, just … DAMMIT!

~*~

Chapter Three

Emma~

Kill me.

I want to die. Let me die. I need to die.

Die. Die. Die.

But I don’t. Instead I heave, again and again, and I swear I’ll never touch alcohol again, if only the world will turn back on its axis and I won’t feel this sick any more.

Seconds later
, I still want to die.

The one night I get
rat-arsed and I gather enough guts to throw myself at a bloke, he turns out to be my bloody flatmate. It took everything I had to ask him and not just high-tail it out of the pub.

The only
reason I went through with it was because it actually felt nice to touch him. It felt nice being touched by him. The drinks tasted awful but I drank them, and now I’m paying for it in the most horrid of ways.

And
I didn’t get shagged.

I’m still a virgin.

And now I’ll have to find a new place to stay. I have to phone Chloe and tell her what a massive failure I am. She’ll help me figure this mess out. The thought makes me feel even more miserable, and that jug of sand lodges itself back in my throat.

“
Emma.” His voice is too kind for what I did. He should be disgusted with me; especially seeing as I’m hanging onto a germ-infested toilet for the little my life is still worth.

“
Please go away,” I groan. I don’t want him to see me like this. If I look like I feel, then they can use me for a scarecrow somewhere.

I shouldn’t have talked
, because my body starts heaving again. I’m hot, and just feeling plain old awful. Sloshed-awful. I flush and take my jacket off. It’s still hot, and I peel my shirt off. It’s instantly cooler and better. If I can get into the shower without breaking my neck, I’ll be alright.

One step at a time. First teeth. The basin jumps in front of me and I stumble toward the middle point. My stomach r
olls, and I stop. The basin or the loo? I wait to see what my stomach decides.

“
You’re going to fall and hurt yourself. So, how about I just help you get settled in.” His arm slips around my waist and the world stops tipping to the side. His arm feels so nice. I never knew it could feel so good to be touched by someone. I only knew what it felt like to be touched by my mother, and the thought alone makes my stomach roll.

“I want to brush my teeth.” I want to cry because I
feel so bloody awful, but first I need to get rid of the taste of alcohol.

“Let’s do that
, then.” His voice comes closer and he presses his chest against my back. If I can just lean back and close my eyes for a second. “No, Emma.” My eyes snap open. “Teeth,” he whispers to me, and I reach for the jumping items.

The basin rushes toward me as
I grab for it, and it makes my stomach lurch. When I try to squirt some toothpaste on the brush, it decides to jump and I get it on my hand.

“Let me get that for you
,” he says. His arms wrap around me and he takes hold of my hands to steady them.

“You’re so nice.” I
t sounds as if I’m whining. I am so not making a great first impression. I wouldn’t want to shag a whiny me. I think I’ve done just about everything possible to put off a bloke for good.

I brush my teeth more than once. Four or five times, I think. But the taste of the horrid alcohol is still there. I give up and reach for my mouthwash. I rinse a few times, and I’m about to start drinking the rest when Aiden takes the bottle from me.

“You’re minty enough.
Off to bed now.”

“Can I shower first?
” I’ve moved onto whimpering. Next step is crying. Gosh, I’m a rotten drunk.

I pull a face, but
I’m half asleep already and I really don’t care. He’s right, I should go and sleep before I start crying. That would just be the cherry on top of the monumental disaster I’ve been tonight. I lean back against him and close my eyes until the smell of alcohol wafts up my nostrils. I reek of her, my mother.

“I need to shower
. I need to get her off me.”

I move towards the shower and turn the water on. Now if I was sober I’d care
, but clearly I don’t, because I stumble in clothes and all.

People do
nutty things when they’re sloshed. Some people are fun, some get angry and mean, others go all depro. Me? I’m not so sure about me. I thought I’d be like my mother.

But instead I get all tangle
d in my jeans around my knees. Yeah, all Emma style, I arse-plant right there in the shower. I suppose I’m just daft.

“Y
ou can’t even stand, babe.” He doesn’t sound upset as he helps me up, and I miraculously step out of my jeans without arse-planting in front of him again.

M
y chest tightens and I close my eyes. It didn’t sound the same. It didn’t. I tell myself this once more. He didn’t sound anything like her when he called me babe.

I open my eyes and
the first thing I notice is the drops running down his face. His eyes have darkened to charcoal as they start at my legs and travel back up to meet my eyes. His hands drop from my arms to my waist, and I feel his fingers pressing into my skin. The tingles are back, spreading through my body, and it feels intoxicating in a way the alcohol couldn’t make me feel. I want to feel the way he made me feel in the car. I don’t want to think. I want to lose myself again until there’s only that maddening rush inside me. I’ve never felt as alive as I did in that moment while we were kissing.

I take in his
wet clothes. Oh, he looks dishy in wet clothes. I reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it up.

“You’re
wet, Aiden.”

Like he didn’t know that already! B
ut it’s all my alcohol-drenched mind can come up with as an excuse to get under his clothes.

Even in my smashed stupor I falter, or maybe it’s because I’m so smashed. His skin is hot and
silky wet and bloody hell – there’s lots of ink covering his skin. I glance up and he pins me with those penetrating grays of his.

I still want tonight
to happen so very badly, but I’ll have to leave then. There’s no way I can share a flat with him. I open my mouth to speak and he leans in closer, pressing me lightly into the tiles. The tingles explode in my stomach, sending a wave of nervous excitement up to my heart. The words get lost in my throat, and I tighten my hold on his shirt.

“Be careful what
you ask of me, Emma. I’m trying real hard here.” He moves in even closer and, heart pounding, I push his shirt up, until he has to let it pass between us.

OMG. He’s a work of art, all hard muscle and ink. My insides clench and I bite at my cheek to keep myself from saying something embarrassing, something like ‘take me now’.

My eyes zero in on his right arm and chest, both inked with some sort of tribal design. I follow the pattern from his shoulder over his chest, and woven into the design is the head of an eagle. I swallow and reach for him, for the eagle.

I’m standing in the shower of my new home that’s
supposed to offer me a place to hide. All I wanted to do tonight was find out why she does it. For once I wanted to be in control, but I’m not. I’m losing control.

Tracing the outline of the eagle
, I know there’s no way I can use him. I watched a documentary once on an eagle. I watched it soar, be free from everything and everyone, and I wanted that. Its cry was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

I press closer until there’s no water or air between us, only the heat of our skin, and I whisper against him what I want most.

“If I had wings I'd fly, I'd soar on high where only eagles dare. I'd let them rip, I'd let them tear, until all that remained was me bare.” I press my cheek against the eagle embedded just beneath his skin, closing my eyes.

The water disappears
, and before I can get cold, he wraps a towel around me. Somehow the bed appears before me, and I watch it for a second.

“Next time it comes around I
’ll get on.”

I deserve to feel miserable.

I get out of the wet underwear and dry myself. Once I’m in my PJ’s, I climb into the bed and lie as still as I can. The world tilts and turns, and every movement makes my stomach wobble. The bed moves, and I peel my eyes open.

“Drink this.
” Aiden holds a glass out to me, and I take a few sips. I wait for it to come up, but when it settles deep down, I take a few more.

“Why are you being nice to me? I haven’t been nic
e to you,” I groan, feeling more miserable by the second.

I
flop down against him. He is really nice. It’s a shame he’s not the one. Got all sloshed, but I didn’t manage to lose my virginity. So much for killing the two big-arsed birds with one stone.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been nice to you. I’m
a knackered, stupid girl. You would’ve liked the real me.” I groan. Oh, but as if that isn’t enough, I keep mumbling, and if I don’t stop I’ll start drooling on him soon, “Why is it such a hard thing to lose? I’m going to die one. I’m going to be the only one left on the bloody planet.”

“Sleep now,
” is all he says. His hand caresses my back, soft touches up and down.

~*~

With each second ticking over I’m going to be in more trouble, but I just can’t bring myself to leave the safety of my room. I’ve cleaned the room the whole day, not because I had to, but because it gave me a reason to stay in it. Otherwise I have to face her, and her Boeing flew over very early this morning, which means she started drinking at around ten, earlier than usual.

Peop
le define abuse as being hit, and nine out of ten times it is by a man. Abuse. Few people would call what my mother does abuse. My dad sure doesn’t care.

My mother inflicts her will upon
us. You don’t have your own life; she lives your life for you. Everything you do, you do to please her.

No, my mother does
n’t abuse me. My mother smothered me until there was nothing left, until she could fill the empty space. My mother has sucked me dry, every drop.

She sees
herself as the head of the house, and my father is a wimp. You do everything she says or else … she’ll make you pay with words. Her tongue is sharper than any two-edged sword.

S
ome days she’d just make you pay because she’d have too much to drink. That was usually Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. I stayed in my room on those days. I only left it when I really had to. And I have to now. I need to go to the loo so badly.

I open
my door enough to peek out, just enough to listen. I can’t hear her, and I make my run for the loo. It’s on my way back she calls for me.

“
Emma.” She never slurs. She doesn’t get slurry sloshed. She doesn’t pass out. She’s not one of those drunks.

She hasn’t given me a hiding in two years either. I’d rather take a hi
ding over her talking. She can beat me to death, any bloody day.

I walk to the lounge, dread curdling my blood. I just need to be quick. Do what she wants and get back to my room. Don’t make eye contact. She attacks then
.

Sh
e’s sitting on the armchair between the two couches as always, her arms resting on the sides. The telly’s flashing its light, breaking the darkness somewhat. She looks like a nasty old hag, perched on her throne, but I try not to think this as I go to stand in front of her.

“
Babes,” she says, and my stomach drops. I’m a goner. When she calls me that it means there’s a speech coming. “Fill my drink. Half ice, half wine.”

Like she has to remind me after all these years, but she does, every day.
She kids herself into thinking the ice thins out the wine, only she consumes bottles a day.

I do
as she says and get her glass filled, hating myself for doing it. I’m adding to her problem. But if I don’t I’ll be in more trouble, because she doesn’t have a problem, according to her.

I place
the glass down on the table next to her, so I don’t have to hand it to her. Touching her is something I try to avoid. I can’t explain how it makes me feel.

“Sit,
babes,” She starts and my insides knots up. “Sit with Mummy.”

She’s not my mu
mmy. I want to scream it at her red, drunken, glazed-over eyes. But instead I sit and look down at my folded hands. I look down so she won’t see the disgusted look on my face.

“You’re going to fail,
Emma.” I sigh. Real slow of course. It’s more like a slow deep breath. If she catches me being disrespectful in any way it will certainly be the end of my pitiful existence. “You’re so beautiful, but if you don’t study harder you’ll fail. Look at how well your brother is doing. He got the brains and you got the beauty. You both got my fancy genes.”

I do
n’t feel beautiful, I feel stupid, and it is all because of her. She is so common, and no amount of money can make that right. She looks down on others but look at her, behind closed doors she is nothing but common rubbish. That’s what I think of my own mother.