Page 60 of Watched

“She was. Beautiful, understanding, and an incredible mother.”

He lifts his chin to look up at me. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Dad once said, an angel’s time on Earth will always be limited compared to that of a mere human.”

“Poetic.”

I’d always loved seeing my parents together growing up, their love for one another was undeniable. Dad lost himself when she passed. We all did. He dedicates himself to work now, trying to distract himself from that hole in his chest. His apartment is covered in pictures of her, and there were many nights in LA when I passed his room and heard the same video of her playing on repeat. It’s as though he can’t sleep without hearing her soft voice beside him. Dad once told me he saw a lot of my mother in Alexa, the same fiery energy and stubbornness. That’s what drew Aaron Weston to Charlotte Rivers.

She was twenty-three and fresh out of finishing her Master of Architecture. Her friend was interested in building a new house and consulted my mother for a design. Two young women entered my father’s business, and my mother refused to leave until she spoke with the owner. One step into the room, and she proceeded to lay out her drawings, telling my father, ‘This is how it will be done. I will expect nothing less than this design down to the millimetre.’

He played with her for a while but agreed. She oversaw the construction, and he scheduled his week around the time he knew she was on site. Each visit, he’d offer her a job, each with a higher salary than the last. My mother, being the negotiator she was, refused until he met a price she deemed worthy of her skills.

Many projects later, they were together, and he’d found her designs for her dream home. Land was purchased, and construction started immediately. Apparently, she didn’t like the original ceiling cornices. My father took her there with a bag of her favourite Chinese food, got on a ladder, and removed them all, replacing them with the new ones she liked while she watched and ate her food. I was apparently conceived that night. He was always aware of her location, so, I was always bound to adopt the habit.

Rome sighs, and my heart drums beneath his fingers trailing over my chest. “How did you come out to your parents?”

“Umm…I didn’t, really. I was twelve, and we were watching a movie. Claire Forlani came onto the screen, and I said, ‘she’s hot.’ My father agreed and got a stern look from my mother. Brad Pitt then appeared, and I said he was hot too. They were silent for a moment, and I think they realised that I was genuinely attracted to both actors. My mother agreed with my comment, probably to get back at Dad. She told him if he ever met his celebrity crush, he had a hall pass. He looked at her so insulted yet so lovingly and said, Claire Forlani could pass me on the street and I’d have no clue. You are all I see. He then swept her off the sofa and took her upstairs, and I turned up the volume.”

Rome laughs quietly.

“You’re never getting a free pass, Rome. I don’t give a fuck who it is.”

“We aren’t together, Rain.”

“Your ass is mine, your cock is mine, lips, heart. Every fucking part of you is mine.”

He shifts a little, trying to pull away. I chase his body and pull him back to cuddle me. He groans, pushing his head against my chest.

I obviously haven’t made myself clear.

Threading my fingers into his hair, he inhales sharply as I fist the strands, pull his head back, and smash my lips against his. My body hums as I lift my other hand and pry his jaw open. His tongue now evades mine. So, I chase it, forcing him to taste me. He pushes at my chest just as I catch his tongue and suck it into my mouth. He releases an adorable, startled sound when I bite down, followed by a hiss.

His swollen lips try to detach from mine as I feast harder and slide my hand down his shuddering stomach to his cock.

Just like I expected. Hard.

Satisfied I’ve made my claim on his mouth, I release his hair. He jerks back and clasps my wrist like he doesn’t want me touching what’s mine. I want to touch it, so I will. I’ll fucking sleep with one arm holding him against me and the other holding his cock, just to reiterate it’s fucking mine.

“Tell me who you belong to,” I order calmly, despite my heart thumping.

“No one,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Try again.”

“Fuck. You.”

I follow as he tries to escape to the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around him as he pants and wriggles, trying to escape my hold.

“Don’t ever try and run from me again,” I say against his ear. He stiffens, his heart racing beneath my hand on his chest. “Am I clear?”

“I-I don’t want you, Rain.”

“Lies. Your cock sure does. Besides, you were asking questions about me. Why try to get to know someone you don’t want?”

“Get. Out.”

“Not a chance. Now go to sleep, baby. I’ll give you until morning to admit who fucking owns you.”