Page 4 of Get Me (The Keatyn Chronicles 6)
Tears stream down my face, feeling cold against my flushed cheeks. "You have no idea how deeply that touched me. And it's why I let you come to St. Croix. I wasn't planning to go back to school. I didn't get closure with B. Everything with him--especially how I had to leave--has been so up the air and I didn't want to do that to you. I was going to give you closure, then send you back to school. And that's why I've been so tired all the time. At night, I'm either learning how to defend myself, or I'm flying back to California to mess with him, or I'm having online business meetings in an attempt to take over his company. It's not my friend who was being stalked and almost got kidnapped. It was me." I stop and mutter, "Shit."
Then I stand up and grab my clutch off the bed.
"What are you doing?" Aiden asks.
I pull out a piece of paper and hold it up in front of him. "This is the script I've been working on. In it, instead of truth-vomiting, I eloquently explain everything to you. I couldn't have sex with you until you knew."
I drop the piece of paper on the chaise, wondering why I'm even bothering.
He's not going to forgive me.
I might as well just grab my bags and go.
But he starts reading my script aloud.
"THE SETTING: HOTEL SUITE AFTER WINTER FORMAL.
AIDEN
(Opening a bottle of champagne)
KEATYN
(Lighting all the votive candles he thoughtfully brought)
(They kiss)
(But then she looks nervous)
I need to tell you something.
AIDEN
(Sits on the edge of the bed)
What?
KEATYN
(Stands in front of him)
I've been lying to you. Actually, I've been lying to everyone about something. And I need you to know.
AIDEN
(Looks concerned)
Okay.
KEATYN
I came to Eastbrooke because I was being stalked. My last name isn't Monroe. I'm Keatyn Douglas. And my mom doesn't work in oil and gas. But she is in France. And her name is Abby Johnston.
AIDEN
(Stands up in shock)"
Aiden stares at the script for a few moments then slowly sets it down. I can tell he's thinking; probably trying to figure out the nicest way to tell me to fuck off.
Instead, he stands up, takes two big steps toward me, and brushes a tear off my cheek. "Life hasn't been following your scripts. You told me that once."
"No, it hasn't."
"If it had worked out the way you planned--if you'd followed your script--right now is the point where life would have deviated from it."
"You wouldn't have stood up in shock?"
"No," he says, caressing my face. "I would have said, Baby, I already knew."
"You what?! What do you mean?!"
"I mean I've known for quite a while who you really are."
"How?!"
"That day at the chapel, when you told me about your friend. I don't know. I just felt like you were talking about yourself. So I started googling stuff. The name Keatyn, California, stalker, famous parents. Somehow, eventually, I put in the right mix of words. About ten pages into an image search, I came across a photo of you and your mom. It was from a kids' awards show when you were probably twelve or thirteen."
"You've known this whole time and you let me lie to you?"
"Yeah, Boots, I did."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to be the kind of guy you could trust. It's why I backed off. Why I told Riley about Dawson. I didn't want to see you hurt anymore. It's why I've told you so many times that you can tell me anything. That you could trust me. What I didn't realize before was that I needed to earn that trust. We had to build a strong foundation. I'm really glad you were planning to tell me tonight."
"But when you put your hand up and told me not to follow, I thought we were over, that you hated me."
"I could never hate you. I could tell by the look on Peyton's face that something was really wrong. I held up my hand to let you know that I'd take care of it. That you didn't need to come. I figured it was just some stupid mean girl thing between her and Whitney. I had no idea it would be so . . . involved. Or take so long." He takes my hands and pulls me back to sit on the chaise with him. His face looks similar to the way it did when he walked out. Apparently, this is his concerned look, not his I hate you look. "There's nothing you could tell me that would make me hate you. You need to have faith in us. We're going to survive the kiln."
"I was coming to find you. You made me promise that I always would."
He smiles at me. It's a sweet, loving, blazing smile. One that turns my whole night around.
"You told me that didn't count."
"I lied," I say, teasing him.
"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 . . ."
