“Those reporters took pictures of you. Is the stalker going to find you? Will you have to leave Eastbrooke?”
“I don't know. The dean made everyone delete anything they put out on social media. I told the local reporters that they didn’t really have much of a story. That my mom and I have had different last names my whole life. I told them if they signed a non-disclosure agreement that I would give them two stories. One they could use now and one they could use, um, later.”
“What do you mean, later?”
“I told them the truth about the stalker. Told them they couldn’t use the story until either he was in jail or I was dead.”
Aiden shuts his eyes tightly. “Dead?”
“Yes. You might as well know that now. If he gets me and no one can rescue me, or if I can’t get away, I’m pretty sure he will kill me.”
“What story can they have now?”
“Who Damian’s new girlfriend is. We have a lot of work to do before then, though.”
“Like what?”
“Rework Peyton’s social media. Make people think she’s just from California. With her age, they could think she’s in college. Vincent—that’s the stalker’s name—knows Damian and I are friends. We don't want him to put two and two together. That's the other reason I didn't want to go back to Eastbrooke after Thanksgiving break. I didn't want to put any of my friends in danger. Because he's about to blow. And when he does, it's going to be ugly.”
“Isn’t there something you can do, legally?”
“We have to prove he’s stalking me. Threatening me. And, even then, about all you can do is get a restraining order. They said if I went away that he’d forget about me. But he hasn’t. You know that nationwide search for the next Abby Johnston?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s him.”
“Wow. He wanted someone to tell him where you were? Is that why you freaked out and told Annie you didn’t want to be an actress?”
“Yes. I didn’t want him to find me.”
“Are you safe here? Now?”
“Yes. Even if word got out. Even if he somehow found out about Eastbrooke and the formal, he wouldn’t know I’m here. Everyone thinks we’re staying at the hotel where all the parties are.
“We were smart to come here then?”
“Yeah, we were.”
“So, can we go back to enjoying our night? Tonight was supposed to be all about us.”
“It was an amazing night. Perfect, really.”
“Come on. Let’s start over,” he says with a grin, pulling me out of the room and taking me down the elevator to the lobby.
He lets the door to the elevator shut without getting out, pushes the button for our floor, then pins me in the corner and gives me a steamy kiss.
“I had a great time tonight,” he says. “But, I will admit, I've been thinking a lot about what will happen when we get back to our room.”
I kiss him deeply and say exactly what my heart feels. “You know the heartbreakingly beautiful love?”
“Yeah?”
“I thought it happened tonight.”
“The heartbreaking part is never going to happen, Boots.” He wags the key in my face. “And, just so you know, when we get some privacy, the kisses are gonna be a whole lot hotter.”
We barely get in the room before he has me pinned against the bathroom door, kissing me hard. Running his hands roughly across my body, all the pent up things he's been feeling coming out in his touch. And the freedom I finally feel from his knowing the truth has mixed up inside me to form something practically combustible.
His hands are behind my back, searching for my zipper.
“Side,” I manage to say between kisses.
His hands dance around my cleavage, finally coming to rest on the zipper.
A quick zip sends my dress falling to the floor.
I'm doing my best to get him naked as fast as possible.
Unbuttoning his shirt.
Frantically pulling it off.
Unzipping his pants.
Once we’re down to just our underwear, he picks me up and carries me to the bed, where he quickly spreads my knees apart and kisses his way down my stomach.
He pulls off my thong as I push off his sliders.
The Titan is ready for action.
I'm tilting my hips toward him, my body begging.
The tip of the Titan is touching the damp, steamy edges of the exact place I want it to go, and I'm waiting for him to move his fingers out of the way and plunge it deep inside me.
Aiden takes a deep breath.
Then stops.
“Boots? Do you want to?”
“Of course I want to.”
“I know, but . . .”
“But what?”
He rolls off me. “I just want it to be perfect. The perfect night. When we look back on it, I don't want you to remember crying. I don't want you to remember questioning my feelings or thinking I walked out on you. And after seeing your script for tonight . . .”
“You read ahead?”
“Yeah.”
I roll over on my side and run my hand down his chest. “In my script, we did it.”
“And it was a perfect moment where we both knew it was right. I want that for you. For us.”
“Nothing about us has ever followed a script.”