2 - It’s Not Going to Lick Itself

2 - It’s Not Going to Lick Itself

Aiden

There are times in my life that I wished I wasn’t me, Aiden Stone. Like opening the door and seeing Ivy, my little petal, after such a long time. My first thought on seeing her was, ‘It must be a dream.’ A very weird dream. Where her clothes were soaked, chocolate hair dripping with water, her bright blue eyes red and puffy, mascara running down her cheeks. My second thought was that she had been crying, and I wanted to do terrible things to the person who had made her cry. 

I had bought her favorite doughnuts when she got her first periods, heard her talk about her awkward first kiss under the bleachers because she was too scared to talk about it with Hayden and get embarrassed by her friends. I had picked her up from her prom after party, gave her my hoodie and bought her ice cream at three in the morning. I had hugged her goodbye when I left with her brother for his deployment and my work, hoping she would take care of herself.

I cared about Ivy. My little petal. That was why I was I was going to do terrible things to the person, to the shit, who made her cry.

It was also why it was unfortunate that my third thought was widely different from the first two. I hated being myself when I thought of her… differently. I was truly a sadist to get turned on by her red, watery eyes. All I could think about was wrapping my fist around her hair and seeing her sky eyes gleam with tears of pain and pleasure, hazy with lust but trusting me to take care of her and her needs. Being on her knees with my hands on her face and fucking those pouty lips—

“Fuck,” I breathed, swallowing the lump in my throat and glaring at the semi in my sweatpants. I had to stop thinking about her.

Which won’t happen when she is under the same roof, taking a shower, all wet and naked—

I closed my eyes and thought about all the ways I helped my patients with their anxiety. I took four deep breaths. After clearing my heads of all the filthy thoughts, I made a list why I should never think about the said filthy thoughts.

1. She is Ivy Knight.

2. She is Hayden Knight’s little sister, my best friend’s sister, and he would dump me in the Arctic Ocean if he ever knew about these thoughts.

3. She is young. Eleven years younger than I am.

4. She probably thinks of me as her elder brother.

5. Did I mention she is related to Hayden Knight? The person who can and will murder me if I ever thought about touching her inappropriately.

Yes, that list was good and it should help remind me every time my blood rushes to the south. But it was the fourth point that truly scared me. I knew I had been overly protective of her when we were young—I still was, but I never meant it in a brotherly way. No, I just didn’t want her to get hurt. I wanted to care for her. But not the way a sibling does.

As if he knew I was thinking about him, Hayden called me. I picked up after one more ring, hearing him say, “Hey, asshole. Did you miss your favorite person?”

“Hello to you too, darling,” I said, stirring the red sauce, hating myself for the small twitch on my lips. Hayden Knight was a pain in the ass, but he was my close friend. We had been mistaken for brothers, but it was clear from one closer look that our eyes didn’t match and he was more charming with talking our way out of a situation. “Why on earth would I miss you out of everyone? In fact, I’m glad your Azmian princess whisked you off of San Diego and keeps you locked in her palace.”

I heard a shuffle and a soft feminine voice. “Aw, Aiden! I knew you secretly liked me underneath all that ‘I hate everyone, people are stupid’ guise!” I shook my head hearing Zara Knight Latif, the Princess of Azmia, and the fiancée of my best friend, try to mimic my voice.

“Why are you out of bed?” Hayden asked her and for a moment, all I heard was bad reception and clothes shuffling. “You should’ve called me, I would have—”

Zara didn’t let him finish. “Aiden, tell your friend that I won’t fall the second he looks away.”

“You would’ve landed on your bump if you had looked where you walked.”

“I would love to see where I’m walking, but I can’t see my feet, you ass.”

“Then hold my hand, I’m here for—”

I cleared my throat, watching the steam rolling off of the pasta in the pan. “As much as I’d love to hear you both bicker, I have something to tell you, Hayden.”

“I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Hayden yelled when she walked away, “Please have a guard with you!”

My heart felt heavy hearing them bicker lovingly. Hayden had saved her life, promised her safety, care and love for their engagement and even trying his best to be a good father for his soon-to-be-child and a good husband when they get married.

Hayden, the man who had fucked his way through half of the San Diego’s single women, was now expecting a child and marrying the woman he met once and pined on her for two years, so much so that he never once flirted with anyone.

“All good?”

I heard him sigh. “Pregnancy is a hard thing.”

I chuckled, “You don’t say.”

“I’m serious. All her mood swings affect me and I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stand anyone looking at her when she is pregnant with my child—”

“You’ve been reading too many fantasy romances—”

I could hear him grin when he replied, “Maybe. Zayed asked me to try one and I’m stuck now.” Zayed was the Sheikh of Azmia and his good friend. “Anyway, how was the date?”

“Date?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and remembered how last night went when I had arrived in San Diego. The expensive wine, dessert and a hotel room. “It went well, I suppose. A one-night stand. But it doesn’t matter, I need to tell you something—”

“Was it that bad?” He asked from the other line, something shuffling.

“Hayden,” I said and he knew it was serious when I said his name. I turned off the stove and leaned back on the island. “I am at your house and you won’t believe who showed up at the door.”

“Addison in a trench coat?”

Hearing the name of my ex made me lose my appetite. If she had appeared like that, which she would never have, I would have locked the door on her face. 

“She would never do that.” I sighed. “It was your sister with a suitcase. She was crying. I believe something happened with her bo—”

“Is she okay? Should I come back—wait, let me check the ticket—”

“Hayden, she is twenty-one. She can take care of herself… and I am here, too.”

He didn’t reply for a few moments. I held my breath.

“Yes, I trust you, of course,” he sighed. I clenched my hand in a fist. Another reason for hating myself to even have a hint of attraction towards his sister. “I will see if I can come back, but I need you to talk to her, Aiden.”

“Of course, I will talk with her—”

“No, Aiden,” he paused. “I meant, as a therapist.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how it was when mom left. When we left. She hasn’t been herself since she went to university. With Zara here, she lost her close best friend, and I have been trying to talk to her, see her, but I need your help. If you can, I want you to talk to her, give her a few therapy sessions. If not you, someone else.”

I knew what he meant. Her mom had divorced her father and left. Her father couldn’t cope with the sudden loss and ignored both of his children. Hayden was a senior in high school, but Ivy was barely six years old and had no one. They both had tried to bond with each other, but she never had a parent figure in her life and it may have affected her.

I clenched the phone in my hand and said, “I will take care of her. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Thank you. I will call Ivy tonight. See you soon.”

“You too,” I replied, ending the call. Staring at the cooked spaghetti, I let out a sigh, raking my hand through my hair.

His phone call was a living reminder that I should not think about—

“Did you cook this for me?”

Ivy was wearing the same fucking hoodie that I had given her on her prom night. It’s not going to lick itself, it said in bold white letters. I wondered if she knew what it meant. Hayden would punch me if he knew I had given that hoodie to his sister. His little sister, who was wearing just the hoodie, the hem reaching her creamy thighs.

I licked my lips, turning my back to her, and tried hard not to wonder if she was wearing anything underneath that hoodie.

“You should eat it before it gets cold,” I said, serving the hot spaghetti in red sauce. I kept the plate on the table and pulled out a chair for her, motioning her to sit, my nose filling with the sweet floral scent of her shampoo.

“Who were you talking to?” She asked, twirling the fork around the pasta and eating it. “Was it Hayden?”

I told her about his call, about Zara and how he would call her soon and that she should stay in the house for a while until the university classes start again and she has to go back to dorm. After asking about her business school, I brought up the main point I wanted to discuss with her.

“Why do you have that thinking-face on?” Ivy asked with a small smile, keeping the plates in the dishwasher.

I managed to keep my eyes on her face and not her bare thighs. “Thinking face?”

She nodded, her finger hovering over my eyes and mouth. I ignored the urge to pull her closer, hold her wrist and check for myself if she was wearing anything underneath that damn hoodie.

“Your eyebrows are pinched together and you have that dark gleam in your eyes whenever you are thinking,” Ivy said, her voice light. Her blue eyes dropped to my mouth. After three seconds, she looked away, licking her lips.

I didn’t think it would be wise to tell her that that was my I-want-to-take-you-over-my-lap-and-check-if-you-are-naked-underneath-my-hoodie-and-spank-you-like-the-naughty-brat-you-are look.

“I agreed with your brother that I will have a few sessions with you,” I said, holding her wrist and lowering it from my face so I could meet her eyes. Her pulse was beating wildly underneath my thumb.

“Sessions?” She breathed.

Naughty. Fucking. Girl.

The corner of my mouth curled. “Not those kinds of sessions, you naughty little Petal,” I crooned, slowly rubbing the pad of my thumb over her pulse. “Therapy sessions.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.” Her cheeks turned the loveliest shade of pink. “Therapy sessions? What? You will be my therapist then?”

“Yes, Petal.” I let go off of her wrist and stood up, easily towering over her as she craned her head to look at me. “I will be your therapist and you will be my patient.” I said the words that I’d never say in front of her like a porn star about to bend her over the dining table.

And like the beginning of any porno, she stuttered, wide doe-eyes blinking up at me.

“But I am…” she trailed off.

I raised my brow and continued, “If you don’t want to sit in the same room with me after tomorrow’s session, Hayden or I won’t bother you again, Ivy. Give me one day, one hour.”

Her slender throat bobbed as she blinked up at me. I held the reins of my dirty thoughts and watched the way her face softened, agreeing with me like I knew she would.

“Okay, I will have a session with you,” she whispered. 

I hid my smile.

Good. Fucking. Girl.