a primal quality to his beauty that drew my attention since the first time I met him.
His muscles flex with every move. The arrow tattoos slither with the rippling of his biceps. His cock is semi-hard, pointing in my direction. I wonder if it’s always in that state because I’ve never seen it flaccid.
“You’re finally awake, sleepyhead,” he says without lifting his head.
I let my hand roam in the water. I can’t believe Aiden is making me a bubble bath.
“How long have I been out?” I ask.
“About two hours.”
“And what did you do during that entire time?”
“Watched you.”
Watched you.
Damn him and how easily he can say things like that. If it were me, I would’ve never admitted it.
When I remain silent, he slides his metallic eyes up my body, and even though it’s covered with bubbles, it’s like he can see through them.
“I was also going through your Instagram.”
I gulp. “You go through my Instagram?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Why do you think I followed you?”
I always thought it was some bullying method, not that he was actually taking the following factor seriously.
“By the way, you still didn’t follow me back,” he says as if it’s something I forgot about.
“So why do you go through my Instagram?” I deflect.
He shrugs. “To see what you’re up to.”
“As in you’re stalking me?”
He grins. “I prefer inquiring.”
I splash water in his direction. “You’re incurable.”
“I’m curious…” he trails off. “Why do you never post your face?”
“What?”
“You have pictures of food, picturesque settings, your aunt and uncle, Reed and her brother, but there’s never a full shot of you. The only pictures of you are taken from behind or the side. There isn’t one picture where you look at the camera. It’s almost as if you’re scared of it.”
I lift my shoulder. “Not all of us love the attention.”
“Hmm. Why do I feel that’s not your case?”
When I don’t reply, he turns around to retrieve the shampoo bottle.
I gasp, the sound interrupting the cascading water.
Slash marks.
Aiden has two slashes down his back. They’re faded into his tan skin, and that’s probably why I haven’t noticed them before.
What happened to you?
The question is at the tip of my tongue when Aiden faces me slowly. The darkness in his eyes cuts through me like a thousand needles.
It’s like he’s fighting with demons — and they’re winning.
The expression disappears as fast as it appeared. His infuriating poker face erases any emotions.
“You must be sore.” He moves behind the tub and out of view. “I read that warm baths help.”
“Aiden…”
My voice catches in my throat, not knowing what to say. The scars appeared deep and old. They must’ve hurt like hell when he first got them.
Then it hits me.
Those marks must be the reason why Aiden is such a social anomaly. It must’ve been abuse. It looks so much like abuse.
Something inside me shifts and red, hot fury shoots through my veins. The need to hurt whoever did that to Aiden washes over me like a compulsion.
I want to kill them.
Aiden doesn’t say anything, he just shampoos my hair. His fingers glide over my scalp, massaging it. I tilt my head back and sigh in contentment.
“Aiden,” I speak more clearly this time. “Did your father…?”
“Jonathan King isn’t a violent man.” He sounds sarcastic. “He’ll sue you for defamation if hears you saying such nonsense.”
“Then who is it?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, I’m making it my business.”
“You’re not ready.”
“Try me.”
“If I tell you, you’ll have to tell me everything in return. And I mean every fucking thing, Elsa. Including your nightmares. If you’re ready to bare your soul to me, then, by all means, start first, sweetheart.”
I clamp my lips shut. Horror seeps into my bones at the thought of my nightmares and my childhood. I don’t even like thinking about it, let alone talking about it.
I’m itching to know about his scars but not to the point of probing my own scars.
“That’s what I thought.” He spills water on my hair.
I close my eyes as the water and shampoo cascade down my face.
He managed to shut me up so easily.
His counterargument is fair enough. You talk, I talk. But I still can’t help sulking.
Damn Aiden King.
We spend a few minutes silent as he finishes rinsing my hair.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?” he asks casually.
I pause, startled by the drastic change of subject. “I didn’t tell you I wasn’t.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You assumed it yourself.”
I crane my head to have a better look, but he