Chapter 73 KNEEL AND HAVE A TASTE!
Erica's POV
"A fucking penis?" I rasped, lifting my eyes to stare at Aaron.
"Surprise?" he said, his voice laced with dark amusement, almost hysterical. A sharp laugh burst out of me despite everything.
"Really? How the hell is this a gift?" I demanded. His smile stretched wider, dangerous and unrepentant.
"He touched you?" he asked quietly, the playful edge gone in an instant. My lashes fluttered down, something shifted in my guts.
"For fuck's sake, that's actually nice?" I muttered under my breath, slamming the box shut. Aaron stared, clearly shocked that I hadn't flung it back at him.
"Really?" he echoed, his voice low.
A slow smile tugged at my lips. "Are you trying to provoke me?"
"I forgot you're a psychopath," I added before he could answer. He didn't argue, just opened another box. A ring box.
I froze solid.
"You're joking, right?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
His smile slanted, wicked. "And if I'm not?"
I stared down at the ring, my heart slamming against my ribs. But when he tilted it toward the light, I saw it wasn't a diamond. It was a glassy, preserved eyeball.
"No!" I snapped instantly.
"No?" He arched a brow, challenging.
I nodded, holding my ground. "Too bad..."
He shrugged, casual as hell, and flicked the ring toward me. I jerked sideways, dodging it like it burned. I didn't want any part of that bastard parts me—dead or not.
"Did you kill him?" I asked, voice steady even though my pulse raced.
Aaron's lips parted in a lazy grin. "Who knows? Maybe. Maybe not." A dark chuckle slipped out of me before I could stop it.
"I know you wouldn't tell me anyway," I pressed, but my eyes landed on something else: a photo album on the desk.
The picture stared back at me: me and Aaron, my arms wrapped tight around his neck from behind. I'd forced that photo ages ago, laughing while he pretended to hate it.
"How...." I whispered, my throat tight. Aaron didn't answer. His eyes went dim, stormy, and he looked away, jaw clenched.
"What about the food?" I asked quickly, changing the subject.
"Come downstairs to eat," he said flatly.
I sucked in a breath, gripping the shirt tighter. Had I hit a nerve with that old picture?
I remembered what happened right after the picture too—Carter kissing me while Aaron watched from across the table, silently stuffing strawberries into his mouth like he was trying not to react. I'd been so worried he would choke that I pulled away from the kiss.
"No more past memories," I muttered to myself. They made my eyes sting, made me feel too human. My stomach growled again, loud and demanding, and I bolted for the door.
The aroma slammed into me halfway down the stairs—fried eggs, rich curry, sizzling oil, all mixed into something heavy and mouthwatering. I stopped dead, my eyes drifting shut just to breathe it in deeper.
When I opened them again, there he was.
Aaron in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, his biceps flexing as he sliced tomatoes with sharp, precise strokes. He flipped the chicken breasts, pounding them with spices, the scent exploding even stronger. God, I drooled.
Not at him. Definitely at the food.
"What are you making?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "They aren't yours alone."
My stomach twisted hard. "Celina?" I asked, the name tasting bitter.
He ignored me, stirring the vegetable medley, splashing in red wine that made me lick my lips involuntarily.
"Chicken parmesan," he finally said, his voice low.
I hurried down the rest of the stairs, rolling up my sleeves. "What should I do?"
I reached for another chicken breast, but his hand shot out and grabbed it first.
"What?" I snapped.
"Sit down," he said softly.
I licked my lips. Fine. I wasn't about to argue against not working.
But just as I turned to slip away, his voice stopped me cold.
"Milk."
I froze. "What milk?"
His hands found my waist, gripping firm and pulling me back against him. Heat radiated off his chest.
"I want milk," he murmured, his tone shameless, voice dripping sin. His sharp eyes bored into mine.
"It's in the freezer," I shot back. "Stop trying to make me run around."
A dark chuckle rumbled against my back. "I don't want it from the fridge." His gaze dropped deliberately to my chest. "I want it from the source."
My ears burned tomatoe red. I laughed it off, shaky. "You're insane."
"You didn't hesitate to show them to me last night," he pushed, voice velvet and cruel. "Or feed me."
"Shut up," I hissed, spinning to glare at him. That subtle smirk widened, triumphant.
"Fuck you," I spat.
He cackled, low and filthy. "When? Now? I can clear my schedule..." He turned fully toward me, eyes gleaming. "That's only if you let me."
His voice dropped husky, sliding under my skin like smoke. I swallowed hard as he licked his lips slow.
"There are plenty of other men to fuck out there," I fired back. "Why would I want you?"
He tilted his head, clearly enjoying it. "Good point. You wouldn't have to see them again afterward."
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
"A gentleman wouldn't have stared," I accused, desperate. "Or sucked a nipple. You violated me."
He raised a brow, tongue dragging across his upper teeth. "You of all people should know I'm no gentleman."
I rolled my eyes. "That's why girls run from you."
He clucked his tongue. "Wrong, Little Bee. They run to me."
I paused mid-step. Fuck, he was right. Aaron was too gorgeous, too magnetic, not to be chased.
"Someone actually confessed to me today," he added, smug and proud. "Better move fast, or I might get stolen."
I bit my lip hard. "Stop dodging the fact you took advantage of me. You owe me now." I jabbed a finger at his chest. His gaze dropped to it, then back up, sneer curling.
"Owe you?" His voice turned dangerously soft. "You don't seem to remember everything, do you?"
My thoughts scrambled, trying to piece together last night.
"What do I-"
He switched off the stove. The sudden silence was heavy. Then he stepped closer. I backed up instinctively, my eyes locked on the apron stretched across his chest.
My back hit the kitchen counter. He loomed over me, tall and broad.... impossible to ignore.
Before I could speak, his hands gripped my thighs: strong, possessive and lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing.
He stepped between my legs, parting them gently. Fuck, why was I letting him? My body betrayed me completely, heat pooling low, as he moved closer.
I stared down, remembering too clearly how he tasted last night. My gaze lingered on his lips.
"What are you doing?" My voice came out shaky, betraying everything.
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, breath hot against my skin. I trembled, shifting despite my mind protested.
"Don't you remember?" he whispered, dark and filthy. "How you couldn't take it all in your mouth? How it dripped down between your breasts?"
My lips parted, trying to let the memories flash, I clamped them shut, heat warming my face.
"I don't rem-" My voice cracked.
He chuckled, the sound low and melodic, like waves pulling me under.
A breath escaped my lips.
"How about you get on your knees," he murmured against my ear, "and have a taste?"