Текст книги "Bad Romance"

Автор книги: Jen McLaughlin

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 6

Lilly

Later that night, after a long day of monotonous interning at Daddy’s office, and him barking orders at me all afternoon, I pulled up to my townhome and parked in the driveway. I’d planned to go dancing tonight. To be rebellious again. To have fun. But being rebellious was exhausting, and I was tired.

So I came home, expecting to find it empty, like always.

Instead, I found a black truck parked in the driveway.

It had an army sticker in the window, but even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t take rocket science to figure out whose it was. Jackson had moved in.

He’d actually done it.

My heart rate increased, taking off faster than a jet on a runway. After our conversation and the kind of, sort of, fight earlier today, I wasn’t so sure he would accept my offer. But he had. He was here. This was our second chance.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my hands out, rolled my shoulders, and exited my car. The moon shone off the hood of his truck, and stars lit up the sky. In the distance, I swore I could just barely make out the lights of never-resting Washington, D.C.

The brick townhome with huge bay windows and white siding was as familiar to me as the moon was, as were the cicadas singing in the darkness, and yet the nerves bunching in my stomach were brand-new. It was hot and muggy out, but I knew inside it would be even hotter—because Jackson Worthington was waiting for me.

In our home. Alone.

Opening the door, I set my purse and keys on the table directly to the side of the door. Familiar light yellow walls and wooden floors greeted me, but the boxes at the bottom of the stairs weren’t familiar. Nor was the big TV resting against the wall. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, out here. In the kitchen.”

I followed his voice. “I see you decided to move in. Good. This will give us a chance to really get to—” Know each other. That was what I’d been about to say.

But I rounded the corner, and the words shriveled up and died a horrible death inside my mouth. Because there, standing in front of the fridge, holding a beer, was a shirtless, sweaty, extremely hot Jackson. He had on a pair of tight jeans, and all I could do was drool over the spot right above the button of his fly, where the happy trail led a torturous path below his waistline. God, I’d never wanted to follow an established path more than I did right here. Right now.

With my tongue. My hands. Anything.

His whole face sparkled with…life…and his hair stuck up in places as if he’d been dragging his hands through it all night long. He bit down on his tongue and smiled in a sexy way that made my insides turn into jelly. “I like your shirt.”

“I. Uh. I—” Crap. No. I could do this. Keep my cool. Act as if I weren’t being eaten alive with forbidden lust. I glanced down at my shirt that said Keep Calm and Let It Go on it. Wait. He’d seen Frozen? Had he been like those military guys in the video that had gone viral, singing along to Idina Menzel in their barracks? “I mean, yeah. Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” He lifted his Heineken to his mouth and took a swig. I couldn’t look away from his Adam’s apple as it bobbed, or from his hard, uneven jawline. It was better than staring blatantly at his happy trail, though. “You were saying?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Oh. Right. I’m glad you moved in.”

“Thanks,” he said, pressing his beer bottle to the side of his temple. “I hope you don’t live to regret it.”

I laughed uneasily.

We stared at one another.

Even though the conversation had been innocent and generic, I couldn’t help but think there was a tension to it. A sexual tension we wouldn’t be able to avoid for much longer. But that was just my imagination. He had told me he didn’t want me anymore.

I needed to listen.

My attention fell to the scar he told me about this morning. It looked as if it had hurt a lot, which made me wonder if anyone had helped him through the pain. If he’d had anyone by his side. A hero like him should never be alone.

After a while, he cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. And was it just me, or did he check out my boobs? Nope. It still had to be my imagination. Or he was just being a normal guy, and staring at boobs, as men do. “Do you want a beer?”

“God, yes,” I said quickly. Maybe it would take the edge off the desire eating me alive. “Please.”

He set his own beer aside and opened the fridge, pulling out another. There was only one left in the six-pack, so he must’ve polished off a few already. Four beers in, and he didn’t look even the slightest bit tipsy. But looks could be deceiving.

Especially when it came to Jackson.

Sliding the beer cap into the magnetic bottle opener that had somehow found its way to my fridge, he cracked it open and handed it off to me. I took it, our fingers brushing, and bit my lip. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he murmured. He scratched his shoulder, the one right above his scar, and I studied the tattoos there. There was a date and a few initials. Underneath, it had the army logo. On his forearm was a tattoo of a pair of Converse sneakers and flip-flops. The shoes seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. “How was work?”

“Boring.” I pressed the cool bottle against my blazing cheeks, still staring at his ink. On his opposite shoulder was a silhouette of a naked woman, resting on her hands with her chest thrust up. It even had nipples. “Spent all day listening to Daddy tell me I was doing everything wrong, and how I had to apply myself. Like usual.”

We fell silent again, staring at one another.

Well, I stared at his nipples. Or, er, her nipples. Oh, hell, I needed another sip.

He took another swig of his beer, tapping his fingers on the counter, and leaned his back up against it. The change of position had him facing me, with one leg bent slightly at the knee. It was a casual pose. One many used.

And yet, on him, it was irrefutably sexy. Unfair.

“What happened to you going to school to become a teacher?” He took another swig. “Kindergarten was the grade you wanted, right?”

I watched him, not moving, the beer bottle still pressed against my cheek. I’d never told him I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher…had I? I gave that dream up long ago when Daddy informed me I had to work at his company after marrying Derek. I racked my brain, but I hadn’t even decided that I wanted to do that until tenth grade, and by then he was…

Oh, my God, the letters.

He read them.

For some reason, this made my legs tremble and my heart race. Knowing he’d actually read the words I painstakingly wrote him, when I’d assumed he hadn’t, hit me hard. All those confessions of love, and how much I missed him…he’d seen them. Did he miss them when I’d stopped? Why had he never written back? All of these questions ran through my mind at lightning speed, but I didn’t voice them. It wasn’t because I was scared or anything, but because it didn’t matter why he never wrote me back or whether he enjoyed them or not.

It was in the past.

So I took a casual sip of beer and shrugged. He stared at my cheek, so I swiped the condensation away, even though it felt good against my hot skin. “Daddy thought the job had limited earning potential, and it didn’t help with the planned Thornton-Hastings merger…so, yeah. No teaching in my life. I went for marketing, instead. Graduated a month and a half ago.”

Despite the sexual tension I couldn’t ignore—or maybe because of—it was so easy to talk with him. To be myself. Maybe because I knew he didn’t judge me. I had a feeling I could tell him I liked to dance naked in the rain, and he would blink, grin, and ask me how the rain felt against my bare skin.

And I would tell him.

He stopped tapping the granite countertop. “Oh. And how do you feel about that?”

“Well, I—” Breaking off, I gaped at him, because I realized something right then. “You know, no one’s asked me that before.”

He pushed off the counter and walked up to me, stopping directly in front of me. I was eye level with his shoulders, and that naked silhouette of a woman who had bigger boobs than me, because he was that tall. “If you ask me, that’s messed up. It’s your damn life, not theirs. You should get to decide how you live it.”

“Yeah.” I took a sip of beer before tipping my head back. “You know what? It is. Screw them. I would’ve been a good kindergarten teacher.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve been.” He paused. “Still could be. You’re young. You could go back.”

“No.” I focused on my beer bottle. It was easier than looking at him. Less torturous, too. I tried to peel back the label on the beer, but it didn’t budge. “It’s too late. I have to hold down a job at the company, once the merger goes through. It’s part of the deal.”

“What deal?”

“Next year, I’m supposed to marry Derek Thornton the third, and our companies will unite.”

He cocked a brow. “Supposed to?”

“Yeah.” I pursed my lips, not going into more detail. He didn’t need to know I was trying to find a way out, and failing. Didn’t need to know how scared I was that I would have to follow through with the deal, even if just for a couple of years. “Daddy planned it out with Mr. Thornton years ago.”

“And you’re just gonna do it?”

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

He obviously got the point and crossed his arms. “Do I know this guy? The name sounds familiar.”

“His dad is friends with Daddy. Since before we were born.” I swallowed hard and let out a small laugh. “Also, you kind of punched him that night.”

His jaw dropped. “That was your fiancé?”

“He’s not my fiancé.” I shrugged. “But yeah. That was him, in the flesh.”

“He’s a preppy asshole.” He slammed his mouth shut and gritted his teeth so hard I heard it. “Why the hell would your dad want you to marry a guy like him?”

“The merger. Money. Promises.” I gave up peeling the label and glanced up at Jackson. Big mistake. Huge. Up close and personal, he looked even more irresistible. Was his stubble as rough as it looked? Or would it tickle my palm? “According to Daddy, I don’t have a choice.”

“There are always choices in life,” he said quietly, reaching out and sweeping a piece of hair out of my face. I held my breath at the tender move. “It’s how we deal with them that defines who we are.”

“I feel the same exact way.” But this time it’s different. Too many people depend on me to toe the line. “I’m trying to make my own choice, to do things my way, but it’s not that easy. Life’s not always easy.”

He released my hair. “Then make it that easy. Fight for yourself. If you do that, you never know where life will lead you.”

Hopefully, it led me to freedom. Or, at the very least, a short marriage and a quiet divorce. Because no matter what Daddy expected, I would not stay married to a man I didn’t love. And I certainly wouldn’t be popping out a baby with him.

Not to mention, I clearly wasn’t Derek’s type.

He was probably as unhappy about this proposed marriage as I was.

Finishing off the last of my beer, I set it down and peeked into the living room. “Do you need help unpacking? I could help you find a few shirts in those boxes, if you’d like.”

His mouth quirked into a half smile, and he finished his beer, too. “Nah. I’ve got it, and I know where my shirts are. I warned you I like to be naked. You’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”

Lucky, or unlucky? “Noted,” I said drily.

Turning his back on me, he took another beer out. The last one. After opening it, he took a swig and offered it to me. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

I took it, placing my lips where his had been. I tried to ignore the flutters in my stomach at the simple thing, but the way he watched my mouth…as if he was thinking about the things I thought about and more…yeah. That didn’t help. “Which question was that? I got distracted when we started talking about being naked. One-track mind and all that.”

He laughed. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“I asked you how you felt about not being a teacher?” He paused. “And about maybe marrying Preppy Prick?”

The sip of beer jammed in my throat, and I choked on it. He took the bottle out of my hand quickly and pounded on my back. By the time I could breathe again, my back stung from the gentle beating, and my throat was raw. “I-I’m okay.”

But I coughed again, so weakly, even I knew it sounded less than convincing.

“Yeah. Sure.” He cocked a brow and rubbed the spot between my shoulders he’d previously pounded. I would rather he pound—“If you say so.”

Once I’d caught my breath, I nodded, more distracted by his hand on my back than my near death from choking. “I can’t believe you called him that.”

“Did I insult you?” he asked. Even though he asked, I had a feeling he didn’t care in the slightest whether or not he had. His hand rested on my back, and this close, I could see the darker brown flecks in his pupils. I couldn’t look away.

“The opposite.” I took in a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. “I don’t really like him all that much. Not like a wife should like a husband, anyway.”

He frowned, his forehead wrinkling a little bit. “That’s hardly the way to start a marriage.”

“Most end that way,” I said, shrugging, even though I agreed with him one hundred percent. “If I end up marrying him, I’m just jumping the gun, that’s all.”

“If?”

“Like I said.” I lifted a shoulder. “I’m trying to make my own choices.”

He stepped back, taking his hand with him. The muscles in between my shoulders bunched immediately, as if protesting the loss. But at the same time, I let out a sigh of relief. When he touched me like that, it made it hard to remember he was my stepbrother. “Have you ever done anything for yourself, just because you wanted to?”

“Yes.” I swallowed another sip of beer and held it out to him. He took it, studying me as he lifted it to his mouth and took a long drink. “Once.”

His nostrils flared, and he let out a short laugh. “Kissing me doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you were practically a baby, and I took advantage of you that night, and we both know it.” He winced. “Again, so sorry.”

I ignored the stab of pain his truthful words brought me. “I also moved here when I started sophomore year because I didn’t want to have Daddy breathing down my back anymore. That was for me.”

He nodded. “Did you suggest this place, or did he?”

“He did.” I walked over to the stainless-steel fridge and leaned against it, frowning at the dark maple cabinets. “I wanted a dorm, but he said—oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” He smirked and set the now-empty beer down. “That doesn’t really count, either.”

I frowned. “Yeah, I guess not.”

He smiled and scratched his head. Without really meaning to, I watched the way his biceps and pecs flexed and moved as he did so, making my fingers itch to touch. He skimmed the back of his knuckles over my cheek, barely touching me, but I felt it down to my core.

“Tell you what.” He caught my fingers. “I have a job for you.”

I swallowed hard, because the way his fingers felt against my skin was startling. There was no other word for it. “Hmm?”

“I want you to do something for me.” He paused. “Wait, scratch that. Not for me. For you. And only for you.”

I laughed uneasily, not sure where he was going with this. “What do you want me to do?”

“For the first time in your life, do something you shouldn’t do. Do something you’ve always wanted to do, but that you know you’re not supposed to. Kind of like by that pool, only I won’t be included this time. Do it with yourself.” He smiled at me, stepping back. It wasn’t far enough. I could still smell him all over me. “Do something bad, and love it.”

Little did he know, I had already decided to do that two days ago, after seeing Derek with someone else. But there was only one thing I wanted to do for myself right now that was forbidden, that was “bad.” And if I thought he might want to do it, too, nothing would stop me. Because there was only one thing I wanted, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Only one thing filled me with desire, need, and rebellious passion.

Him.

Chapter 7

Jackson

The second the words were out of my mouth, I groaned inwardly. They sounded really raunchy, but I hadn’t meant them that way. I was still intent on making sure this relationship between us remained one hundred percent platonic. It was the only way to pay my dues. To be the man she wanted me to be.

I meant that. I did.

And she should go out and have a little fun.

But this was Lilly Hastings, and the most disobedient thing she’d ever done in her life besides kissing me was probably jaywalking. Daring her to do something that was for her, and only her, would probably lead to nowhere good. I had a feeling she’d either go too big, or way too small. Damned if I didn’t hope it was the former.

And that I’d be involved.

I was trying my best to act like a stepbrother should. To play the part handed to me, and to behave as expected for once in my life. To try my best not to let anyone down. It was the least I could do. I had a feeling I failed miserably, though.

Because my damn dick wouldn’t shut the hell up.

She bit down on her tongue, and the pink tip peeked through from between her white teeth. I’d never been so intoxicated by a tongue before. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m already doing that.”

“Huh?” I asked. The beers I’d pounded back made my brain slow and my reactions slower. But when she reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it once before letting go, I felt that instantly. “Already doing what?”

“Stuff for myself. It’s why I went dancing with those guys the other night. I was having fun—and if I went home with one of them instead of you, then that would’ve been just for me, too. No one else. Well…I guess the guy would’ve benefited, too, but still.”

I forced a smile, even though the idea of her going home with one of those guys sat wrong in the bottom of my gut. Every time we touched, I edged closer to doing something colossally stupid. Like declaring her off-limits to all other guys, effective immediately. Yet I kept touching her, because I couldn’t stop myself. I was a stubborn asshole like that. “Good. That’s a great start. Go home with whoever you want to go home with. No one’s going to stop you.”

We stared at one another, a thick tension in the air. She was looking at me as if she wanted to go home with me, and I was doing my best to ignore it. It was hard, but I was still going to do my damnedest. I wasn’t going to mess this up. It didn’t matter how she looked at me, or how much I knew she wanted me—because she did; I saw it—I wouldn’t act on my desire. I would ignore it. Be good, for her sake.

She didn’t need me in her life, messing shit up.

At least…I didn’t think she did. The woman standing in front of me in a pair of skin-tight black leggings, an off-the-shoulder white tee, and a pair of boots was not the girl I’d kissed by the pool a lifetime ago. And I wasn’t the boy she’d written to.

She would realize that soon enough.

“Anyway…” She tucked her hair behind her ear and rose on her tiptoes, looking over my shoulder. “I’ll help you carry that stuff up.”

And come into my room with me? Hell to the no. “I got it. You just need to let me know which room is mine. I didn’t want to go up there, poking around.”

“Oh.” She let out a soft laugh and walked past me, scrunching her nose as she went. It was adorable. “Right. Come on. I’ll show you the two rooms that are empty, and you can have your pick.”

I followed her, grabbing a box as I went. Might as well be productive. She did the same, despite my assurances I could do it alone. When she bent over to pick up a box, her ass was on display, considering the way those pants hugged the hottest body God had ever created. I forced myself to look away.

Don’t screw this up, Worthington. She’s your stepsister.

What had seemed fun and rebellious as a kid had real ramifications now, as an adult. Ramifications that she didn’t deserve. And despite my inappropriate and unwelcome desire for Lilly, I had a feeling she was right. That if I let her, she could be my friend again. Maybe it was time to try out having one of those. To let someone in a little bit. And I didn’t want to ruin that with my stupidity.

Besides Tyler and Doc Greene, I was alone in this world.

Utterly, completely alone.

After spending seven years surrounded by my fellow soldiers, solitude wasn’t something I was used to these days. I didn’t want a girlfriend; I wasn’t looking for a happily-ever-after, but here was Lilly, reaching out to me, asking me to let her in. After a lifetime of being left behind or kicked away, I wasn’t sure I could. I wasn’t good at this. Being friendly and civil. I wasn’t even sure if I was doing it right, or if I was being all awkward.

This was my first time trying to be a brother.

“Like I said, I grew up here, before Daddy built the house our parents live in.” She opened the first door and stepped inside, peeking over her shoulder at me. “This is room one, probably the one you’ll want to pick. It’s bigger and more neutral.”

Tan walls and beige carpet. It was easily twice the size of the motel room I’d been in. “It looks big. This isn’t the master, is it?”

“Nah, I’m in that one.” She tipped her head, and her long hair fell over her shoulder. “It’s right across the hall.”

I already knew I wouldn’t pick this room.

Too close.

But I pretended to check it out, anyway. Aside from neutral tones, it had two windows. One big-ass closet. A private bathroom. A big king-size bed took up one wall, and a nice oak dresser completed another. “Nice.”

“Like I said, it’s the better option.” She nodded once and went back into the hallway. I followed her. “The next one is at the end of the hallway, and it’s a little more…well, you’ll see.”

It was the farthest from her room. Two doors stood between hers and what would be mine. “I like it already. I like being at the end of the hallway.”

It made it easier to watch my back.

Like I said, old habits die hard.

“You haven’t seen it.” She laughed. “Wait for it.”

Juggling the box on my hip, I rushed forward to open the door for her, since she still carried a box, too. “I’m sure it’ll be good. I just need to—” The words froze on my lips. Pink. It was…pink. The walls. The carpet. The curtains. The bedspread on the queen bed. The dresser. It was all the same shade of nauseating pink. I felt as if I’d been thrown into a Pepto-Bismol bottle, and lived to tell. “Holy shit.”

She laughed. Full, belly-shaking laughter. “I told you.”

When she laughed like that, her whole face lit up. And when her whole face lit up, it made me feel a little less dark. As if just by being in her presence, I might become whole again. I didn’t like that feeling. Didn’t like it at all.

It was as though she had way too much damn control over me already.

Still laughing, she backed up. “So…I’ll put your box in the other room?”

Across from her? Close enough to touch? To hear? Hell, no. “I’ll take this one,” I said quickly. “I like it.”

“But it has a smaller bathroom. And it’s pink.”

“I don’t care. I…I love it.” I almost choked on the words. “Why is it pink, though? Exactly?”

“It was my room as a kid.” She blushed. “I liked pink.”

“You don’t say?” Gritting my teeth together, I set my box down and walked to the window. It had pink butterfly stickers on it. Fucking butterflies. “It’s”—I racked my brain for something nice to say about it—“charming.”

From my peripheral vision, I saw her watching me as if I’d sprouted two heads. “Okaaaay.”

The box hit the floor, and she didn’t say anything else. It might seem silly to go to such lengths to put a little distance between us, but I needed the space from her. I wasn’t here to kiss her, seduce her, or ruin her. I was mending fences, not climbing them. And if I was that close to her, I might make a stupid mistake. If I was that close to her, I might—

No. I wouldn’t. I had this.

I just needed to retain control.

Turning around, I started talking, ready to send her off. “Thanks. I’ll get the—oof.”

At some point, she’d come up behind me. Having no idea, I barged into her. She lost her balance, and I, of course, tried to catch her. Unfortunately, she was already beyond catching, and my fumbling attempts to do so, anyway, sent us both falling to the floor. The very pink floor.

I slid my hands under her, trying to cradle her from a rough fall, but in the end, I’d made it worse. We hit the floor hard, and I ended up on top of her, my hands trapped beneath her lower back, and my cock pressed up against the last place it should be. Her warm heat. I was very much in between her thighs.

She felt like heaven and hell, all wrapped into one sweet soul.

And my body reacted accordingly.

Her legs were on either side of mine, and she clung to me, chest heaving as she took rapid, shallow breaths. Her plump lips were parted. Her generous breasts rose and fell, pressing against my bare chest, and her nails dug into my biceps as she squirmed beneath me. She groaned and wriggled her hips.

“Can you breathe?” I asked quickly, trying to focus on her welfare instead of how incredibly right she felt in my arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She let out a small laugh, and her cheeks flushed a fetching pink. “Oh, my God, I’m so clum—” She broke off midsentence, mouth shaped in a perfect little O.

And I knew why, damn it.

I may have decided to be a better stepbrother, but there was no stopping my reaction to her when she was in my arms, and I was between her legs. Even though I was trying to be good, my cock hadn’t gotten the memo.

And there was no way she missed my reaction, either.

“Shit,” I growled, ducking my head. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean—”

She swallowed hard and pressed a hand to my cheek. We locked gazes, and I didn’t breathe. Didn’t dare to move, because ever so slowly…her focus shifted to my mouth. Gently, I brushed her hair out of her face and ran my thumb over her cheekbone. I was already addicted to the softness of her skin.

I knew I should stop.

Knew I was making a mistake.

But she urged me closer, and that was that. I lowered my head, and she tilted her chin up, closing the distance between us even more. “Jackson…yes.”

Her voice brought me to my senses. Gave me enough control to pull back slightly. “Jesus, Lilly. What are we doing? We can’t—”

“Screw that. I’m doing something for myself, and you’re going to like it.” She curled her hand behind my neck, grasping me tightly. “Just like the last time.”

With a tug, her lips met mine, and everything inside me just…snapped. The pain. The anger. The desire. The fear, even. It all snapped, like a rubber band.

And it all came back to her.

Growling, I melded my mouth to hers, slipping my tongue between her lips. The second I touched her, she let out the sexiest damn moan and rolled her hips against my cock, and it was the most exquisite form of torture I ever experienced.

And I wanted more. So much more.

I wanted it all.

Freeing my hands from beneath her, I ran them down her sides and back up under her shirt. The second I closed my palms over her breasts, running my thumbs across her hard nipples through the thin material of her bra, I ground up against her, fucking her with our clothes on. I moved my hips hard and fast, because she lit up like a lightbulb when I did.

She moaned again, long and soft, into my mouth, moving her hips frantically as I moved mine in a timed, measured stroke. I cursed the clothes between us at the same time I thanked God for them. If we were naked, and I was inside her, I’d only last for two seconds, and there was no way that would work. I wouldn’t let her leave my arms till she came at least three times.

Maybe more.

I’d never wanted to get to know every inch of a woman’s body as much as I wanted to know Lilly’s. She’d never know, but she’d kept me alive over there. Her silly letters about her favorite TV shows and her social outings…they kept me sane. Other guys, their minds became their worst enemies, filled to the brim with endless danger and death, but I had that piece of normal to hold on to, like a life preserver. It was her letters that kept me out of the dark hole that PTSD could be. Now, in her arms, I had a feeling she could do it again. Heal me. Save my soul.

Or break me completely.

That was a hell of a lot of power to give to someone else. It went against the way I’d lived my life since I was a child. It broke every rule I’d ever set for myself.

And yet…I kept kissing her.

Her nails dug into my biceps, and she pumped her hips harder, arching her back. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear no one had ever touched her like this before. That no other man had taken her since I last kissed her by the pool. But there was no way she was untouched. She had a fiancé waiting in the wings, even if she didn’t want one. A man doesn’t have someone as hot as Lilly by his side and not strive to make her come apart in his bed. It was the perfect way to show her why they should marry.

Preppy Prick would have to be a fool not to use it.

I pinched her nipples with the perfect amount of pressure, twisting slightly, and rolled my hips into her again, rubbing my hard, aching cock against her hot pussy. She screamed into my mouth, tensed, and came. I pulled back, and the look on her face captivated me. It was hot and delicious and pure.

Like she’d never felt this before.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might have given her a first, after all. The Preppy Prick and whoever came before him, they were obviously doing something wrong. The look of surprise on her face as she came announced as much. I wanted to get her there again, immediately, just so I could get lost in her.

And that terrifying thought brought me back to reality.

“Shit.” I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t ruin her. “I’m sorry.”

I pushed off her, breathing heavily, and dragged my hands down my face. She lay on the pink carpet, chest heaving, and her shirt up around her breasts. I could see now that she wore a sheer pink bra—apparently, her love affair with pink had never truly died—with a bow on it. It was like something a schoolgirl would wear, and I’d just made her come so fast it had given me whiplash.

And I wanted to do it again.

She blinked at me, looking as if she still hadn’t come down from her orgasm. “Oh. Oh.”