Chapter 47

Chapter 47
He peppered kisses down her neck and it overturned her stomach, making her eyes flutter closed.

She forced them open as his kisses trailed up her jaw and to her ears. There was a sound stuck in her throat but she swallowed it. 

Her eyes darted around the basement. The one below them where he’d been beating up Zaphen was dark and harsh, but this one was clean and less harshly illuminated. It was the room for the climate control systems of the villa.

There was a thick, insulated pipe at the far corner of the room, and Aria had visited this basement in search of where Aston could be several times, and she knew that one in particular led to the cold sprays of the garden sprinklers.

That was it!

Shock!

She would — her thoughts were interrupted as Aston claimed her lips again, this time not in a frantic kiss but in a series of lazy kisses that affected her psyche even more than the faster, rougher ones. 

“Mm, Aston”, a kiss.

“Look—” a kiss.

“Look at me,” another kiss.

To his credit he did, he looked at her from above, still placing his torturously slow short kisses on her mouth, his hands now sliding down to the small of her back to hoist her flush against his heat. He was a mountain of muscle and single-minded intent.

“I’m looking,” his low, husky voice sent shockwaves down her body, combining with the heat to drive Aria half mad. She hadn’t been the one poisoned but she was surely the one suffering it.

If he wasn’t going to let her go, then she was going to bring him along with her. 

It was hard but she manuevred, taking a step back with every kiss. Aston followed immediately after her, like they always did. 

Every step he took, he punctuated with a kiss. Aria had never felt so lightheaded in her whole life. The first time she had drank alcohol, she had been bullied into taking a full bottle, and she had been fully knocked out.

The feeling back then wasn’t even enough to rival how much she was getting drunk on the taste of Aston, the persistence of Aston, the heat of Aston, the presence of Aston, his roaming hands and his wandering lips.

She kept on moving. His head buried into her neck again and she felt light nipping and sucking. The sound she had been trying to swallow escaped her and Aston chuckled darkly, raising his head to look her in the eye.

Another swirl of heat rose from her core again.

She knew it was the poison.

But the possessiveness in his gaze, the raw possession in his eyes, they were like bullets fired from a sound proof gun, hitting her without making any sound.

She had to snap him out of it, for his safety and… hers.

They were almost there, as long as she kept leading him. She felt some element of guilt, leading him along in his addled mind. It was erased by another kiss, another breath into her mouth, another grab.

Her back hit the wall, yes, she was almost there.

She reached up with her hands to get to the iron wheel on the pipe.

Aston seemed to take that as an invite, as extra provocation, as his kisses progressed from soft and lazy to fast and passionate in less than a second. He hoisted her up with his hands under her knees again, and this time she was truly caught between a rock and a hard place.

Between a wall and a mountain of boiling lava.

Between her sanity and her lust.

One of his hands went under her top while the other securely held her, like she weighed nothing. If she didn’t act fast, things might go farther than she could control.

She resolutely willed her brain and all her instincts back online, putting every ounce of her power into pulling at the wheel.

The seal broke off in her hands. Aston looked up at what she was holding, confusion swimming in his dilated pupils.

For a second, there was only a slight hiss.

Then, a torrent of pressurized, near-freezing water erupted directly over them.

The impact was violent, the water was so cold that Aria felt like she was being struck by hail.

Before the cold could translate to pain, she felt herself lowered to the ground with a sodden weight above her. Aston didn’t let go or recoil. With a grunt of pure, stubborn effort, he worked through the pressure and shielded her with his back, walking her away from the radius of the high pressure spray.

The pressure from the water should have been like the weight of a wall but Aston walked through it all the same, protecting her head and her body with his own. He didn’t stop till they were near the far wall, shivering in the shadows.

For a long moment, the only sound was the hiss-splash of the pressurized broken pipe that was still rapidly spraying water and their synchronized, ragged breathing.

Aria’s eyes were blown wide open. She was still wet but she had only felt the first onslaught of pressure and nothing at all after that. 

“Are you okay?”, she asked anxiously, looking at the heaving man whose head was anchored down on her shoulder.

His silky shirt clung to his skin, now translucent, and Aria — despite her worry — couldn’t help but stare at the ridges and contours of the muscles on his back.

“Aria,” he said. The word came out as a low, dangerous vibration against her shoulder. Aria attributed her shivering to the cold. Why was she still plastered against the man? What if the shock of the cold water wasn’t enough to bring his brain back online?

“Aston,” she said back to him, raising his head up by bumping her shoulder. 

His usually perfect hair was damp and matted on his forehead. The water dripped down from his nose as he glared down at her.

He looked like a disgruntled wet cat. A very tall, very large, very handsome disgruntled wet cat. “You actually tried to drown me, my lady.”