𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (2)

Chapter 8

"Hotchner, will you hurry up and open the door so I can kiss you?"

He eagerly obliged and my lips were on his the minute the door shut behind us. "I missed you."

"We've been together all day." He chuckled softly.

"I know, but I missed this —being able to touch you." I pulled him towards me by his blazer, "It's difficult for me to ignore you, you know?"

"Do you think it's easy for me?" He gripped my jaw, his thumb tracing my chapped bottom lip, "To see your pretty face and not be able to kiss you?"

I grinned, breaking away from him, "Can we please order some food."

He nodded, taking the roses from me. "You order: I need to shower."

Before he did, he scanned the room —his eyebrows furrowed in careful concentration. After a minute, his eyes settled on the kettle. Curiously, I watched as he filled it with water from the bathroom sink. Then he took great care to organise the roses on the window sill —the kettle a makeshift vase.

It was not the first time I had brought a man flowers. Before Daniel and before Rosie, I had dated a man who had been so embarrassed that he had blushed, holding them awkwardly by his side to hide them for our entire date. But Hotch wasn't like that, I thought, as he attentively displayed his gift.

"Be quick," I urged, "I fear I won't be able to hold off if the food arrives before you're ready."

Hotch laughed.

I ended up ordering ice cream and Pizza. As I waited, I poured myself a glass of pink lemonade and admired the roses. They were such pretty flowers. It was a shame that they had been picked really. But there was no changing the fact that they were going to die —better to cherish them while they were beautiful.

The room service arrived before Hotch. I thanked the courier, tipping him generously because I had worked in the hospitality sector before and I knew it could be hell. Then I placed the food on the desk, trying not to be tempted to eat it just yet. I texted Anna to distract myself, asking if Jack and Rosie were still awake. They shouldn't have been —given that it was almost ten— but I hoped they were.

"Aaron?" I rapped on the bathroom door, "The food is here."

He emerged wet with a towel around his waist, his skin glistening with beads of water, "Smells good," he remarked.

"It's only pizza," I said, suddenly worried he'd be disappointed.

"I love pizza." He snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me roughly against his chest as he breathed in the apple-almond scent of my hair.

"Stop," I protested, "You're getting me wet!"

He smirked, "Am I?"

I feigned disapproval, "You know what I mean."

I pulled away from him to rummage in his go bag, "Hurry up," I tossed him his pyjamas, "I'm starving."

He dried himself halfheartedly before slipping on his clothes.  As I was cutting the pizza, my phone chimed. I checked the message.

"Rosie and Jack are just about to go to bed. We could call them?"

Hotch agreed between mouthfuls and pulled me onto his lap. I roped my arm around his neck and tentatively rested my cheek against his own. He fiddled with his phone and —a few seconds later— we were on FaceTime.