LIVELY POV

His touch was ignition to a fire within me he killed six years ago. It burns in every inch until I become a roaring flame.

Our skins weren't even clammy; the embrace was sumptuous, and we had been doing this for longer than it should normally last. Aaron's genuine scent invaded my head as his skin hovered and molded with mine. His heavy breathing and grunts were breathtaking in my ear, and mine muffled in his fitted shoulder, where I couldn't help but dig my nails and teeth.

Aaron Wallace. I shouldn't be in bed with him once more, submitting my body to his perfect form. His kiss shouldn't be this addicting, his body shouldn't fit into mine so perfectly, and this shouldn't feel as good as it does. But with every thrust, he whispered to my desires, took every ounce of me, and helped me ascend to heaven. He was a sensation, an infectious obsession. Only he knew the way to my ecstasy.

I felt him stiffen as he reached his release, making sure I'd had three good orgasms: first, fingering me against the wall after ripping our clothes off; then, he picked me up around his waist and lay me over the bed, going down on me—an experience I had only imagined when people talked about it; and lastly, him filling inside of me. As I mentioned earlier, the man has the gift of lasting longer than any woman would complain about.

He slipped out of me, letting out a loud relieving breath as he rolled over on the bed next to me.

Then, our breathing began to calm until silence deafened my ears. I felt myself being hit with harsh internal criticism, my chest pounding for the aftermath that I hadn't thought through earlier, letting my body follow temptation.

Aaron doesn't have a good history with his reactions after sex.

What if this was all he wanted—to get me in his bed and then toss me out of his life again? It's almost a hundred percent possible; I knew him once.

Panic at our reality and what was to come overwhelmed me. I made the first move before he could, this time striving to protect my heart. I got out of bed, groping for my dress to see if it was in any shape to be worn again.

"Where are you going?" he said, concurrently flipping the light.

My heart fiercely dropped with my body to the ground in terror and overwhelmed, I could only curl up there instantly, embracing myself. The thought of my world about to crash was intense, punching through me with the shot of a spiked ball.

"Turn off the lights," I yelled at him vehemently, my eyes welling up.

He looked nonplussed as he slipped into his pants as if I hadn't warned him about the light earlier. "You do not need to hide—" he started, but what I needed was for him to stop watching me like this.

I cut him off, my voice raging and guttural, "Aaron, I said turn it off."

"Okay!" His face paled, but he did, and the room was covered by darkness again.

I might have got a hint of where the pieces of gown were. Wiping my tears, I got up, devastated, and navigated there, telling myself to keep my composure and not cry.

There was warmth behind me, and when he spoke, it was extremely near. "Did I do anything wrong?" he concernedly asked.

I didn't know what to trust. Aaron wasn't a gentle human. This had to be some misconception—an illusion. But he touched me. I felt his hands wrap around me from behind and settle onto my stomach, under my hands that immediately found his. I froze in place.

"Did I hurt you, baby?" he raspily whispered in my ear, inhaling the side of my face. The way he called me baby and held me protectively debilitated me to the depths of my soul. I succumbed and leaned into him. "I promise I didn't know," he softly apologized, but that wasn't it.

"No!" I shook my head and he pecked my cheek. "I just don't want the lights on," my voice trembling. Maybe I should calm down and not think of the feeling of his hands on me and his hard torso against my back.

"I forgot, but I turned it off. Liv, I am sorry," he kept saying, warming my heart.

This seemed too good to be true. I had to be going crazy. This couldn't be Aaron Wallace.

"I will be outside if you need space," I rushedly said, trying to wiggle out of his embrace to get my gown and leave, but he didn't let go.

"Says who I need space?" he sounded confounded. I was just protecting my heart this time.

"Aaron..." I squirmed within his hold, wanting to be free. He released me now, but my legs were too feeble to put distance between us. I hated what he did to me.

"Are you mad at me? Is it something I did? Here, put this on. It's my T-shirt, it should cover you sufficiently," I felt a fabric in my hands, and I took it.

I slipped into it immediately, and it reached my thighs.

When I didn't say anything, he continued with an offer, "I want to cuddle you, but if you don't like it, we can—"

"Aaron, it's not that I don't," I turned to face him despite not being able to see him. "I very much do, but are you sure?"

The other time, let's just say, it ended badly, affecting the way I see him up until this day. I didn't want another history where I would hate him again.

"I am. I ache to be near you," he gulped and took my hand, lacing our fingers, and my eyes momentarily closed, a smile of joy settling on my face. "As long as I do not make you feel uncomfortable."

He did nothing of the sort. I was merely afraid he was too good for me and his awareness of that reality might affect us again.

"I will keep the shirt on," I only bargained, and I heard him breathe a smile. He pulled my hand to the bed.

"Ahh," he groaned seductively as he lowered over the bed and gave me a light tug to follow him. I giggled a little, holding back to a certain point until it was proven to me he wasn't taking us three steps back after this.

Although it wasn't night, it was dark here, and last night, I didn't get enough sleep. I snuggled onto him as he held me close, barely letting my hands wander, even though my curious emotions were screaming in seventy languages to let my hands explore his fitted torso. He smelled like divine oxygen. Breathing near him was confusingly effortless; it shouldn't be.

Six years earlier

The door to a room closed behind seventeen-year-old Aaron Wallace, who had taken me away from the crowd at a boring stoner bash. I was terrified, yet simultaneously drawn to him. He was the boy whose photo adorned the school hallways, despite not being a student there. For weeks, I had been stalking his social media profiles, imagining a world where he and I could be together. And now, that possibility seemed real. I let go of any conflicting thoughts and followed him into the silent bedroom, which was larger than my entire home, with only the sound of the high-end aquarium above the fireplace breaking the silence in front of a seating set.

We didn't go there. He jerked his head to the king-size bed and tapped the space next to him as he plunged onto it. My heart somersaulted in my chest, only for it to retract the next second as he pulled out something small in his hand and took it to his mouth. It was weed, evident from the dense smoke he exhaled. He did it with practiced ease, and I could've choked on the pungent smoke that obscured his face from my view for a moment.

"You smoke?" I nervously asked.

"Uhm hmm," He ascertained, "but not a usual thing for me. I just got told there are teams ready to sign me to go pro. So I am celebrating." He snorts but it doesn't sound or look like a celebration.

I suddenly was curious to know the boy, so my legs flailed to him and I sat at the edge of the bed with a lot of distance between us.

"Really? That is good news." I told him.

"Yup, I will go lay the good news to my family." He said it a bit sarcastically and I wondered why, but I couldn't ask because he started coughing and he held out the tiny object to me, "You want?" He asked in-between spewing coughs and smoke. Why would I want what looks like it hurts? I squished the judgment without cringing before he saw it right through me. I just shook my head as politely as I could be and he shrugged those lips that had always amazed me with their fullness and vibrancy.

He leaned forward, his hazel eyes steely and somber, making it awkward for me to continue staring into them as I felt myself shrinking in my position.

"Tell me how old are you, pretty eyes? Do not lie to me." He sounded stoical.

"I—" He said I shouldn't lie to him and something about him made me want to do only as he asked, "Fifteen." I shamefully lower my eyes.

"You are just a child." He remarked, scoffing and leaning back.

"No! I am—" What should I say now? That I have fallen in love with him before meeting him? That I have been stalking him? "I will do it." I offered, swallowing the bile in my throat. If that will prove to him that I am not a child.

His eyes searched mine curiously and distantly with reluctance to believe but he hands it over.

"Do it." He urged, observing me when I took it. "Draw in, let it sit, and then release,"

I can do this. It's just draw and release.

Rage cough broke through me as I choked on my first try. I have smoke in my nose, my lungs, windpipes, and tears in my burning eyes.

His upper lips curl up, satisfyingly. "Let's make out, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I smiled nervously as I've never kissed anyone and the excitement was agitating my stomach.

He took my hand, pulling me to sit astride his lap, my legs on each side of his thighs, and his hands wrapped around my backside. It felt good; I smiled. Maybe that's what gave him the green light to slip off my jacket and fling it somewhere around the room, leaving me only in my fitted yellow t-shirt.

He took a drag of the weed and his hands returned to my backside, his chin resting on my cleavage, his eyes looking up at me. He blew suffocating smoke in my face. His eyes weren't hazel anymore; they were dark, and the whites around them were now bloodshot.

He was high as fuck, I knew it but he was the only perfect thing in my distorted world too. His hand grabbed a hold of my breast squeezing it until the nipple popped out of my bra and his teeth nibbled on it above the material of my shirt.

My soul kindled, every fiber of my being torrid. My head fell back, and I felt a grasp around my neck. His long neck stretched and he took my lips in his. He tastes like a second chance at life after death. I gasp at the intensity of his flavor. And his free hand slipped into my pants.

I know what we did in blurry detail because I couldn't forget the best night of my life regardless of being under the influence of weed. I remember his kiss, his touch, and the way he made me feel. Nothing could compare to it. But Aaron Wallace giving ecstasy is bait for something larger than pain. I learned the hard way that ecstasy is fleeting, worth only a brief moment before reality hits like a bucket of ice.

When I came down from the euphoria, he was already on his feet, dressed, drawing in smoke as I lay naked on his bed.

"You can clean up here but do not sleep. I am leaving for Portland at dawn," he said.

"Okay, um," I sit up, feeling bile rise in my throat. I find the duvet and pull it over me, noticing bloodstains on it. It was embarrassing—I tried to hide it, but I'm sure he already saw it. "Maybe we can—" I start, but stop myself, hoping he'll suggest it first. At least share phone numbers or something that means I will see him again.
But he responds without a care in the world, "What?"
It was just sex to him.

OMG!

When I don't say anything, he smirks and twirls around, brushing back his hair with his fingers as he leaves the room. The silence that follows is too heavy for my ears and too loud for my heart.

I hesitated for a long time in the room, tears streaming down my face, disconcerted at the thought of facing the people I'd have to pass before reaching the door. Each step was a painful reminder of my mistake, I was sore between my legs and weary. My hands shook as I cleaned myself up, leaving the bedsheets in the bathtub to soak in water after washing out the embarrassing stains. Slowly, I managed to get dressed, gathering the strength to confront those faces again.

Aaron was already kissing another girl in a game they were playing. It's all blurry because my sanity and perspective were altered by the smoke I inhaled for a while, but I know he clearly showed me he was a fuckboy.

We made eye contact as I silently emerged from the corridor, I knew he saw the blood too, but he let me leave past one in the dark. I wandered around with my bicycle, crying the whole night, but woke up to another day on my bed.

***

He was my brutal first, and then I closed myself to pleasure until he reentered my life. There was a time when I hated him the most, but still, I know there was no closure between us.

He stirred beneath me and stretched, indicating he had woken up. It was now dark outside; it must be late at night. I hadn't slept; I had been in his arms, but my brain couldn't rest even though I needed it so much, especially after not having a good sleep last night. Aaron's hand came to my face and cradled my cheeks tenderly as if assuming I was asleep.

"I woke up," I half lied, my voice hoarse from staying silent for a while.

"Since when?" he let out a deep breath.

"Not that long. You can turn the lights on; I have your T-shirt on," I added the last part with a smile to myself.

"You sure?"

"Aaron, we will not be in the dark the rest of our time together here," I laughed, and he chuckled, agreeably.

"Okay!" He reached for the lamp, and then the entire room lit up.

I sat up and folded my legs so they were not revealing I was commando. He propped up on his elbow, resting his head in his palm, and watching me intently. He causes me to blush and nervously swirl my hair around my finger under his admiring scrutiny.

"Tell me, what do you like doing in your free time?" he asked.

"I barely have free time; I am either working or with Bubble because my mom and dad are taking two jobs at the moment," I admitted, embarrassingly. His mom and aunties had done their research and knew those details, so he might as well be informed about the reality of my family.

"So how about Bubble?" He asked curiously.

"What about him?" I retorted, hoping I didn't come out defensive.

"Tell me about him. You two seem very close," he said, the focus in his eyes boring into my soul.

I swallowed and pressed my lips into a line to compose myself. "We are. He's all I got. Mom had him the year you and I met and separated."

His brows rose, and he nodded to himself for a few seconds as if he were wondering about something. "Oh, I remember her being pregnant at the game. So he's about six?"

He remembered. Odd but sweet.

"Yes," I smiled. He sighed and brought his free hand to my thighs, squeezing it. I chewed my lip so as not to react with a moan.

"Why don't you have your trophies here?" I asked to keep the conversation going.

"Award trophies from high school?" His pupils dilated in question.

"Yeah!"

"I can't even remember where those are," he laughed thoughtfully. "Probably in Portland, the house I grew up in."

"You grew up in Portland? Thought it was Switzerland boarding schools you Wallace's goes to?"

He smiled at how I said it. "No, uhmm just 6th to 10th grade. My preschool and elementary years were in Portland. I used to believe I had a chance at football than all those winter sports in middle school. Luckily, my parents agreed to my transfer back to Portland for high school until college." he explained when he noticed I was curious.

"But you did travel around."

"We barely had family trips growing up; my parents were mostly busy. Their trips were for work, and I had to stay home and study so as not to have instability. I grew up with Keenan and the cooks keeping eyes on me," he said, and even though he had everything, I felt sorry for him. He smiled, but I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He brushed it away when he continued, pride taking over his countenance. "But yes, I did have my little adventures. I got to leave Portland for MIT to study Aerospace Engineering and had my first dormitory experience for a year before I got my apartment for the rest of the years. After that, I moved to a 12-month course prioritizing aviation at the Florida Institute of Technology. I fell in love with the city, and I bought my first house there. Then I was supposed to pursue a master's in space engineering in Europe, but the timing wasn't right. I have duties starting this year, and I need business knowledge. Therefore, I got my master's degree in business administration at Yale. I got to see Connecticut. New Haven is a beautiful place. I left there this spring after concluding my courses, but I still have plans for my second master's degree in the future. Maybe when we're married," he smiled. The idea was still surreal that he was my fiance.

"That's a lot of degrees," I nervously chuckled. "You do know I didn't get to finish high school?" I arched my brows at him. He was frowning. "You and I are nothing alike," I added. "What's going to happen when people begin to talk, and it gets to you? I am not the one for you. You will realize it, and you will leave again, and this time... I won't be able to—" I couldn't find the right word. My mouth hung open, and my hand stuck in the air, pausing gesticulating. Aaron reached up and took it, covering his over mine.

"Your body and soul are what my entirety is irresistibly drawn to. What does it matter if you don't have a high school diploma? It wouldn't carry your experience like your eyes will speak to me of it. Tell me, what will I benefit from a piece of paper when you're an absolute assembly of exceptional treasure?" He solemnly said.

"Aaron Wallace, you do not get it," his family was right. "I can only be your servant."

His eyes flared, and he swallowed. "Do not ever say that."

"Let's be realistic," my eyes shut closed, listening to his mom's voice repeating in the back of my head. She gave me an ultimatum. What would happen if I crossed her line?

The bed compressed more, and warm fingers spread over my cheeks. My eyes opened to hazel eyes searching my face. "What is real is you have my ring on your finger. I intend to make you my wife, and nothing, not even your doubts and disbelief, will change that," his jaw tensed.

"Aaron..." I started, but he cut me off, "I am yours from now till eternity is consumed and our memories are extinct, but as long as I remember who I am, I will always need you, Liv. Believe me," his voice softened, his eyes too.

I know he spoke the truth, and that's what's scary—how is it possible for Aaron Wallace to desire me intensely? I have no response worthy of his assertion. I draw closer and kiss him deeply, hoping he feels the emotions I have for him. When I pull back and look at him, a small smile plays at the corners of his lips. It mortifies me, so I lower my head and take both of his hands. He's sitting across from me now, his gaze drilling into my pores.

"So, back to getting to know each other," I change the topic. "Tell me more things about you. Your favorite color, food, your worst memories, and everything. I want to know you to a depth no one ever has." I blush under his gaze.

"Okay," he replies, laying back and making a pillow with his arm, his biceps flexing as he does so. Hell, if he doesn't have flawless abs, I look away and focus only on his face, which isn't very decent either, but I can handle it. "Ask away," he smirks, noticing my hesitation.

Aaron isn't that different from humans after all. He enjoys chips and Diet Coke late at night, and he listens to Beyoncé while he works out, which is the only time he listens to music in his schedule—quite weird, I must say. I fall asleep listening to him gush about the Star Wars franchise, which is the only movie he ever watches and therefore, in his opinion, the best of all time.

We talk for a long time; I don't keep track of time, but 4 am wouldn't be considered an early bedtime.

The next time I open my eyes, Aaron isn't next to me. I'm alone in the room, and the alarm clock reads nine in the morning.

Yawning and stretching, I look around for my phone, but I can't find it.

Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I laid eyes on it. Maybe in the foyer. I think I left my bag over there too when we arrived yesterday.

My foot sinks into the carpet as I get up; the room is neat, and all the things we threw about are no longer scattered on the floor. I saunter down the hall in Aaron's T-shirt, investigating the space to make sure not to bump into anyone while dressed like this.

"Good morning, baby," a familiar voice says unexpectedly.

I freeze in place, seeing Allen and Greg carrying shopping bags, facing Aaron.

"You can go set up the wardrobe," Aaron says to them, and they nod, approaching me.

My nipples are puckered under the fabric, I fold my arms over my chest to cover them.

"Good morning, Missus Kelby," they greet me as they pass, and I smile shyly, tucking my hair back from my face.

"The boys got you some new clothes," Aaron says. "Come to me." Like a lost puppy, I oblige until I'm in his arms. He scoops me up and sets me on the arm of the couch, coming between my legs—I have no panties on. My heart stops for a moment.

"You don't have to. I could manage with my gown and sweater," I whisper. He cups my face; his thumb brushes over my lips before he leans in and nibbles them.

"I had to," he groans against my mouth, and I smile into the sweetest kiss.

"Thank you," I tell him, and he sweeps his tongue over my upper lip, scrunching his face.

"Are you turned on?" he asks an irrelevant question. My widened eyes shifted from him to where I was expecting Greg and Allen. There was no one there.

"Aaron—" I stop as I feel his hand move inside my thighs; my body shakes, and he is standing in between my legs for them to close. He holds the back of my neck, guiding me to keep my eyes on him, a devilish smirk on his lips that makes me ache to have him inside me. He taps my slit, and I can't hold back the cry. My fingers grip his white dress shirt.

"Fuck, so wet. I want to lick it," he groans, and my eyes close to temptation, letting him do whatever he wishes to me.

His finger starts rubbing my clit, and my body arches; I lose air in my lungs as he continues working his fingers against my wetness. He steps back, and I almost fall; my hands immediately grab the sides of the couch for support, and Aaron lowers to his knees.

I panic, my eyes going to the hallway as he parts my legs.
"Aaron, we're not alone."

"So don't be loud; I'll make you come quickly," he casually says.

Is he insane?

His warm breath blows against my wetness and my stomach tightens only to feel his tongue strokes my hardened clit, and my eyes roll back; he slips his hands underneath the shirt, grabbing my breasts and kneading them roughly.

The next few seconds, my body feels like it's on fire, and a moan breaks free no matter how hard I try to keep it in. My body weakens. I almost fall back, but Aaron's arm circles my waist; his fingers wipe beneath his lips and he licks it seductively, holding my sleepy gaze.

"So sweet." He bites his lower lip.

"Mister Wallace, it's done," I hear, and my eyes pop out of their sockets, going to the hall where Greg and Allen are standing. How long had they been there?

I pushed Aaron away and stood up from the couch. He watched me with amusement as he dismissed his guards.

"By the way, breakfast is ready," he said with a sensual smirk that sent shivers down my spine.

"Did you see my phone?" I asked, feeling embarrassed.

"I plugged it in to charge when I woke up. I'll get it for you. Let's have breakfast," he said, ushering me to the dining table where my plate was full of berries, bacon, toast, sausages, eggs, yogurt, and everything. I guess he ordered the whole menu again.

He poured orange juice into a glass cup and handed it to me. "Drink."

I nodded and took it.

I started to eat a few things while he went to get my phone. The food, just like yesterday, tasted great.

Blushing at the thought that he had gone overboard to impress me, I giggled to myself.

"What's funny?" his bold voice interrupted.

I quickly cleaned the sides of my lips with a napkin, awkwardly saying, "Nothing?" I lied.

He raised his eyebrows, not believing me, and held out my phone. "Saw you have crazy missed calls."

"Shit!" I took the device from him and swiped the screen.

66 missed calls is indeed crazy. Seven from Kane. Why would Kane call me?

Bubble!

My heart tightened.

I dialed Dad's phone, and he picked up on the first ring.
"Dad?" I gasped, my eyes unblinking.

"Livy, where are you?" He sounded worried.

"I—I am in San Francisco," I guiltily admitted. I've never stayed out, and I've always told my parents where I was. I know I am 21, but I live in their house, and some rules need to be followed.

"Oh, Livy," he sighed. "You left Bubble at daycare for hours; he missed his medication."

No, no, no!

"How is he? Where is he?" My voice broke in desperation.

"He's been in emergency all night."

"No!" The phone slipped from my shaky hand.

"Are you okay?" Aaron held my arms, concern on his face. I forcefully shoved his chest. "TAKE ME BACK HOME!"

He caused this. It's all his fault. He brought me here. Four hours away from home.

Oh my goodness! What if—what if Bubble is badly hurt?

"Stupid me! Stupid me! Stupid me!" I slapped myself, again and again, until my hands were stopped by a force I couldn't break through.

"I will take you home, but stop it," he firmly yelled, and I slumped to the floor, my knees weak, breaking into soul-wrenching sobs.

While I was having a good time, Bubble was—No! I can't forgive myself.

I felt my body being lifted, my trousers being pulled up to my waist, a hoodie slipped over my head, and my hands being guided out. I was a corpse in remorse. Aaron grabbed my things, put on my shoes tied the laces, and led me alongside him to the elevator. He strapped my seatbelt in the helicopter.

I indistinctly heard him communicating. The longest flight pricked at my soul. I was suffocating, chewing my nails, and bouncing my knees. My world was crashing, and my hate for Aaron Wallace returned.

He caused this. He did it. He's always bad news.

We landed at the lake house past one in the afternoon. I wasn't in the mood to encounter his family and luckily, there was none in the front yard. I was going to get a cab, but Aaron collected a car key from Keenan and information about the hospital, which if I hadn't broken down, I would have asked why he had Keenan investigating my family's personal information. It's what his mom was doing. I do not like it.

"Come, I will drive," he said, opening the passenger side for me to get in and fixing my seat belt once again.

He was on edge and drove the fastest on the road, but it felt like not enough.

After another twenty minutes of torture, I ran down the parking lot and into the hospital.

Mom and Dad were in the empty hall of the emergency room I was directed to by a nurse. I halted the moment I saw Dad holding Mom.

"Dad? Mom? What happened?" Bubble is fine, right?

"You—YOU!" Mom yelled, rising from Dad's embrace and fiercely striding to me, discontentedly.

"Mom, is he fine?" I cried, pleading.

I felt a sharp pain meet my face as she slapped me.

"You do not deserve him," Mom bellowed, until Dad held her back, calming her. "I am so glad he's under our custody. You better know that if he survives this, which he will, I will personally make sure you never get full custody of your son. You shouldn't be a mother," she spitefully spats.

I was trembling, struggling to breathe.

"Is Bubble okay?" I sobbed. I just want to know. That's all.

"The surgery needs to be done sooner," Dad told me, and my heart broke into pieces. How do I get over two million for a lung transplant?