“I would have preferred to be called by my given name, actually,” I retorted.

He sighed and resumed drawing the little circle on my knee. “Look, one of us needs to be watching you at all times. In order for me to be able to look like your boyfriend and not some pervert stalker that follows his girl everywhere, we made up a code word so I could call if I needed one of them to watch you for a few minutes. It’s not a big deal.”

I did understand that. I’d had codenames before, but I still didn’t really like them. With my father being who he was though, I should probably just accept it as part of the norm now. “Jewel is just pathetic. Who came up with that anyway?”

He shrugged, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the channels because the movie had finished. I hadn’t even noticed because I’d been too busy staring at him and musing about things like his future girlfriend’s broken heart. “We just went with Peter’s suggestion in the end.”

My ears pricked up, interested to know what the other suggestions were. “What were the other suggestions? Maybe we could change it?”

“Well, Dean wanted Regan.”

“Regan?” I frowned at the randomness.

Ashton chuckled wickedly as he nodded. “That’s what the little girl was called in The Exorcist.”

I gasped in outrage. “No! That ass**le!” I cried, though laughed at the same time.

“I thought it was pretty good,” he countered. “But I figured that would be hard to explain when we put in the paperwork with your dad.” He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

I had to smile at that too. My father would have been less than impressed. “What about your suggestion, what was that?” I asked, still hopeful that we could switch it to something less pretty and delicate.

His back stiffened as his hand stilled on my leg. “I didn’t have one.”

I cocked my head to the side, watching as his jaw tightened and untightened unconsciously. He was hiding something from me. “You’re a terrible liar,” I stated confidently. “I bet Regan was yours, wasn’t it.” I narrowed my eyes, resisting the urge to pout.

He shook his head in rejection; flicking through TV channels so quickly that you couldn’t even see what was on. “I’m not. That wasn’t mine, promise.”

I nudged his leg with my foot to get his attention from the television. “Tell me yours then,” I prompted.

He shook his head, smirking in my direction teasingly. My mouth popped open in dissatisfaction. I hated secrets. Pushing myself up onto my knees, I poked him in the ribs. Instantly he chuckled, gripping my hand, so I tried to poke him with my other hand instead.

“Tell me!” I demanded, poking him again, watching as he squirmed. That was when I came to the conclusion that my near guard was ticklish. A grin spread across my face as I decided to use it to my advantage. I launched forward, fighting my hands free from his as I started a tickle war.

It was pretty obvious within seconds though that I wasn’t going to win. In mere moments, I was pinned to the sofa with him hovering above me, laughing excitedly as he returned the tickling treatment, making me giggle and squirm under him.

“Stop it!” I cried, struggling to fight free as I gasped for breath from all the laughing.

My wrists were pinned to the sofa as he looked down at me with mischievous eyes. He finally stopped, hovering above me, grinning happily. The smile faded from his face slowly as his eyes met mine. The burning passion was back inside me. I saw it cross his face too; and I definitely felt it stirring against my thigh. I didn’t move. His restraining hold on my wrists loosened, but he didn’t let go or get off me. I grinned, trying to slow my breathing and calm my racing heart. I hadn’t laughed that much for years. It felt nice, kind of liberating.

“Please tell me yours,” I begged.

He sighed, and his eyes tightened. “You don’t want to know mine.” I pouted, even fluttered my eyelashes as I silently begged him. A long groan escaped his lips as he looked down at me and frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “Damn that face, that’s not fair!” he whined. Finally, he sighed. “Pacey. I wanted Pacey.”

Not having a clue what that was about, I raised an inquiring eyebrow. “And what is Pacey? Some sort of sadistic killer?” I inquired.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “No. Have you seen The Peacemaker?” he asked, biting his lip. I shook my head in answer. I’d never even heard of it. “It’s a movie, one of my favourites, in fact. There’s this girl in it called Pacey. She’s like a supreme being, perfect in every way, incredibly beautiful. She’s kind of a badass like you. She saves the world and then gets the guy at the end,” he explained. His eyes narrowed as if waiting for me to freak out or something.

His words repeated in my head. Incredibly beautiful and perfect in every way. And he’d wanted to name me that? My heart stuttered in my chest as the hair on the nape of my neck stood on end.

“Aww, that’s really sweet. Are you sure that wasn’t Dean’s suggestion?” I joked, trying to keep a hold on the sensations that were flitting through my system as if they were on a freight train.

Ashton laughed uncomfortably. “Actually, yeah it was, I just wanted to steal his glory,” he replied, avoiding my gaze and playing with a strand of my hair.

I smiled, watching him intently, loving how he looked so unsure and so vulnerable. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” I mused.