by Penny Wylder
“You know, you didn’t have to buy me an entire outfit.” I glance down at what I’m wearing. “I can take care of myself.”
He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of my palm. The touch of his lips sends a wave of heat along my arm. “I know that,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to. I plan to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
I fall silent as the car weaves effortlessly through traffic. Tanglewood University is located a little ways outside of the nearest city, Amherst, which is in and of itself small. I haven’t ventured into the town yet, though, so pretty much anywhere in the area would be a surprise for me.
I haven’t had a lot of free time.
I steal a glance at Keanen. The glow of the brake lights ahead of us casts his face in sharp relief—all shadows and sharp lines. I’m seized by a sudden urge to touch him. I reach over to take his hand, marveling at the simple fact that I can do that. That this boy, entrancing and dangerous as he seems, is treating me better than anyone else at this school.
Better than almost anyone in my life, in fact, my mother and Jake aside.
“You’re thinking something,” he says. “What?”
I stifle a startled laugh. He shouldn’t know me this well already. Not after only around a week of… well. Is this dating? Hooking up? Hanging out? Whatever it is we’re doing. And yet…
“I was just thinking that you’re also unlike anyone else I’ve met.” I tighten my grip on his hand.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. You must be biased. Most people would disagree.”
My eyebrows rise. “Really? Because it seems like everyone on campus loves you.”
He snorts.
I glance at the road. Back at him. “Your sister seems like she does.”
He rolls his eyes. “My sister is just jealous. I’m sorry that you got caught in her crosshairs. She’s pissed at you because of me—because she always wants anything I have. Or resents me when I’m happy.”
“Are you sure it’s resentment, and not just…” I shift in my seat. “I don’t know, wanting to spend more time with you or something?” I’ve thought a lot about Bette, on the long nights lying awake in my bed wishing I still had friends to talk to. There’s no way she’s actually furious at me just for being here on scholarship. She didn’t lash out at me until Keanen showed interest. I think about Jake, about how protective I am over him, and try to imagine if our roles were reversed. If he were the older sibling. “Maybe she just misses you, and this is her way of trying to get attention.”
Keanen blows out a long sigh. “You’re probably right, unfortunately. My…” He clears his throat. “My father’s not the easiest man to get along with. And he takes it out on Bette even more than he does on me.”
I’ve gathered, from small hints here and there, that Keanen has struggles with his father. But I didn’t realize it was this bad. I shift in my seat to watch him in the passing glow of streetlights. “Is it hard being at the same school where he works?” I always assumed it would be an advantage, to have a parent in such a high position where you study. But maybe I have it all backwards.
Keanen’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “He doesn’t make it easy, no.” Keanen lets out a little laugh. “People always assume Bette and I have it easy. Like we don’t even have to try at school because we get free passes from Dad. But actually it’s the opposite. He makes us work three times as hard as anyone else to prove ourselves to him. To prove we’re worthy of being here. He’s always warning us about what he’ll do if either of us disappoint him.” Keanen rolls his eyes at that.
I lean back in my seat, feeling a reluctant rush of understanding toward Bette. She’s still been shitty to me, no doubt about it. But how would I act in her shoes, if I thought Jake was turning against me too, and if my father treated me that way?
Well, I can kind of understand where she’s coming from. Even if I don’t like it.
8
It doesn’t take long for Keanen to find where we’re going. The car slows, and I look out the window, my lips parting.
We’re outside what looks like an old red brick Victorian-era manor, except it’s been transformed into a high scale restaurant. Fairy lights glow from all the trees around it, and as we pull up, a valet raps smartly on Keanen’s door, dressed in a tux.
Suddenly, I’m glad Keanen bought me this dress after all.
Keanen steps out of the car and comes around to open my door, offering me a hand out. In the glow of the lights, I notice he’s wearing a sharply cut suit, complete with a tie.
It just makes my fingers itch to reach for it, to grab it and drag him down to kiss me. But we’re in public, so I restrain myself, and let him draw me toward the hostess stand.
The whole manor glows cheery amber. Each room of the mansion has been transformed into a dining area, each with a different theme. We follow the hostess who leads us through curtained rooms, some with general seating tables, others with more private niches. Everyone we pass is dressed to the nines, in heels and carrying expensive purses I’m learning to identify by watching the other girls on campus.
Eventually, she leads us up a grand staircase to the second floor, where there’s a small private room nestled in what looks like a former library. The moment my eyes land on the bookshelves, my jaw drops.
I’ve never seen a collection like this. Floor to ceiling books, all leather bound and with that musty, incredible scent that older books take on over time.
The hostess notices my expression, and her smile widens, just a little. “Your server will be up soon with the first course,” she says. “In the meantime, enjoy.” She pulls the door to the study half shut behind her as she departs, leaving me to drool over all the books in private.
“It’s incredible,” I say, in a voice that’s closer to a moan than a whisper.
Keanen chuckles and moves up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. “I thought you’d like it.” He brushes my hair aside and bends to press a single, searing kiss to the nape of my neck.
Heat floods my veins.
Still, I swallow hard, trying to remind myself we’re in public. “How did you know?” I reach out to trail a hand over the shelves, and he chuckles softly, his chest vibrating against my backside.
“Please. Like I haven’t caught you ogling the library on campus almost as much as you do me.”
My cheeks flush. I glance over my shoulder, our mouths inches apart. “Are you calling me a nerd, Mr. Kross?”
“If the librarian’s heart fits,” he replies. And then his mouth presses against mine, his tongue parting my lips to catch mine, claiming me, and the retort that was on my lips fades away.
He spins me in his arms until we’re face to face, then walks me backward until I bump up against the shelves. I catch the look in his eyes when he pulls back just far enough to catch his breath. Hot and searing. I know that look.
“We can’t,” I whisper, with a nervous glance at the doorway. “Not here.”
He grins, and arches a single eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
“No, I’m simply stating the obvious.” I narrow my eyes, but he pretends not to notice. His hands slide up my arms to my shoulders. Then down. Following the arc of my curves. He always touches me so surely, as if he knows in advance exactly where I’m yearning for his hands to be.
Or his mouth, or…
His hand reaches the hem of my dress. Slides underneath. “Keanen,” I whisper, my gaze darting toward the door.
He just smirks. His hand creeps higher up my thigh, his palm white hot against the sensitive skin there. “I can’t help myself,” he murmurs, his mouth barely an inch from mine. “You look so fucking irresistible in that damn dress.”
His hand reaches the top of my thighs, follows the curve to slide between them. And then his eyes go wide. “Are you…?”
I grin, merciless. “There were panty lines, so… I opted to take them off.”
He trac
es his fingertips across my bare pussy, letting out a little groan in the back of his throat that drives me wild. “Fuck, Missy, are you trying to kill me?” he whispers. He presses his hips forward, grinding against me, and I can feel him, hard as a rock already and pressed tight against my thigh.
At the same time, his fingertips spread my pussy lips. He runs his index finger along my slit, and I can feel how slick it is, how wet I am.
“You are so damn dangerous, you know that,” he says softly.
I arch an eyebrow, my hips bucking against his, like they have a will of their own. “Please. You’re pretty—” My breath catches as he pushes his index finger inside my pussy, sudden and swift. I let out a slow exhale as I adjust to the thickness of his finger. Tense again as he curls it inside me and strokes gently, pushing in and out, in and out. “Pretty distracting yourself,” I manage to finish.
He chuckles, leaning back to watch me with hooded eyes. “I want to bend you right over this desk,” he murmurs. “Fuck you right here.”
“Keanen…”
A knock at the door makes me startle backward, away from Keanen, tugging my dress down into place as I go. He doesn’t even seem phased, just smirks at my reaction and turns to gesture the waiter inside. God, his finger is still wet from my juices.
The man is carrying two trays, the smell wafting from them incredible. “Your first course,” he explains, and then proceeds to list ingredients I’ve never even heard of, let alone tasted.
I settle onto the loveseat provided, next to a solid oak table that overlooks the yard outside, where more tables are dotted across the manor’s lush green lawns. The whole time, my heart hammers in my throat, thuds against my eardrums. I can’t believe we almost got caught fucking up here, in what looks like the sort of study a grand dame who owned a house like this would keep, from which she’d keep watch over her garden party outside.
It also reminds me, pretty starkly, what different worlds Keanen and I are from. He’s taking this all in stride, as if he’s accustomed to such luxury. And he is.
I shift in my seat, suddenly less enthralled by the scents wafting from our plates, as the server bows again and leaves us to our meal. I can’t help thinking that if I were ever to walk into a restaurant like this by myself, it would be in that server’s place. Never as a paying guest.
Isn’t that going to bother Keanen, eventually?
“What’s wrong?” Keanen looks to me, then the plate.
“Nothing.” I pick up my fork and shovel a bite into my mouth quickly, to disguise my discomfort. Oh, my God. The flavors taste as incredible as they smell. It’s savory and sweet at once, with a hint of something almost minty. I slow down my chewing to savor it, but before I know it, the whole plate is empty, and I’m practically scraping up the scraps. It was delicious, but not exactly large. Maybe three bites of food.
Beside me, Keanen laughs. “Relax.” He reaches over to rest a hand on my knee. “There are eleven more courses where that came from.”
“Eleven?” My voice squeaks, half from excitement, half from… well. I reach down and gently slide his hand off my knee. “Keanen. You didn’t have to plan all this.” I gesture at the room.
“I know that.” He leans toward me, eyes fixed on mine. “I wanted to. You deserve it, Missy.”
“But…” I swallow around a sudden tight lump. “This is… all of this…” I shake my head. “I’m not used to stuff like this, Keanen. Hell, this is probably the most expensive outfit I’ve ever worn.” I tug at the hem of the dress he bought me in preparation for tonight. “If you’re expecting all of our dates to be like this, I just… I don’t know, are we compatible, or—”
He presses a fingertip to my mouth, freezing me in place. “Missy. I am perfectly happy just hanging out on campus with you, or at the dive, or going out to a regular restaurant.” His fingertip drops, but I remain silent, watching him, as he leans in closer, his eyes intent on mine. “But I wanted our first actual date to be special. And,” he laughs softly, “we’ve spent the last week in your world. A part of me wanted to show you mine.” He arches an eyebrow. “Is that so bad?”
“No,” I murmur, not tearing my gaze from his. “Just don’t expect me to know which fork to use, because…” I glance down at the place settings again, and he laughs. Then he cups my chin gently and draws me toward him.
“Trust me, I don’t.” He grins. “But I like that you’re a little… shall we say, uncouth?” His lips catch mine, and I sink into the kiss, into the searing heat that Keanen always manages to generate in me.
A knock at the door again, and I pull back, my cheeks going hot. Keanen watches me, smirking, and I swat at his arm. “You are not getting us kicked out of here before I eat all eleven of those courses.”
“Deal,” he replies, much too fast. “But what about after that?” That devilish eyebrow arch returns, and it’s all I can do to keep from kicking him under the table as the waiter returns to serve us again.
But by the time the dessert course rolls around, I’m definitely hungry for more than just the bites of chocolate we’re licking off our fingers—or each other’s.
Keanen must read my mind, because he pays the bill before I can even get a glimpse at he total—not that I really want to know. And the next thing I know, he’s whisking me back downstairs. I think he’s going to lead me to his car, but he catches my hand and pulls me up the street instead, as I laugh and try to keep up in the kitten heels he bought me.
“What now?” I call, as he tugs me along the sidewalk. “Is there a parade for Your Majesty? Or perhaps some private champagne tasting?”
He laughs. And then leads me off the sidewalk, toward a little copse of trees I hadn’t noticed before, along what looks like a small public park. “No,” he says. “Although, if you’d like to have a tasting I can think of some options that are better than champagne…”
He leads me under a tree branch and on the other side…
“Oh.” My eyebrows rise, my lips parting. We’re standing at the shore of a small lake, the lights from town glittering on its surface. In the distance, I spot a flock of ducks, heads tucked under their wings for the night. A few other people stroll on the opposite shore, hand in hand, or sit at benches dotted around the lake’s edge. But here in this little private copse of trees, it’s just the two of us. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
“This is what I really wanted to show you,” Keanen admits. He kneels on a patch of grass, and tugs me down beside him. It’s slightly damp from dew, but at least this dress is black, I figure, so stains won’t show.
Then I forget all about any such concerns, as he tugs me onto his lap, his arms wrapped around me from behind, warm and steady, as we both face the lake. He rests his chin on my shoulder.
“I used to come here as a kid, whenever the lake froze over, to skate. My mother taught me.”
“That’s nice.” I turn to smile over my shoulder. But his gaze remains far away. Distant. Something hits me, then. I’ve never heard anyone mention his mother. They talk about his father all the time, but…
“She died,” Keanen says, as if reading my mind. “When Bette and I were little.”
“Keanen. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs against my shoulder. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember a lot about her now. But I remember skating. I remember holding her hand, here.”
I reach down to catch his hand and squeeze it tightly. “Thank you for bringing me here. For showing me your world.”
“I want you to be a part of it. Just like I want to be a part of yours.”
I tilt my head to look over my shoulder at him. “Think we can make that work, you and me?”
He bends forward. Kisses the corner of my mouth. Then my jawline. The spot just below my ear. “I think if anyone can,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin, “it would be us.” Then he turns me in his arms, pulls me down to kiss me in earnest this time, and I forget about the rest of my worries.
9
The next couple of weeks pass in a steady rhythm. I can’t say it’s all pleasant—only Yvette will talk to me still, and she doesn’t invite me to group hangouts or any get-togethers that would involve other girls. Sara and Leah have become Bette’s new besties somehow, and I’m the odd one left out in the cold.
Plus, it’s a strain to keep up with all the work I’ve picked up at the bar and my homework.
But Keanen makes it all worthwhile. Waking up in his dorm room, more often than not, his arms wrapped around me and our bodies naked, pressed together beneath his sheets, which are softer than sheets have any right to feel… Well, I can’t say I regret those mornings.
Or the even better mornings, where he’s awake before me, and wakes me by kissing, licking and sucking his way slowly all over every inch of my body, until I’m practically wild with desire, dragging him on top of me, hungry for his cock, for the stuffed full sensation I get when he’s inside me.
Still, when he invites me to one of his football games one Friday night, as we’re lying in bed still slick with sweat the night before, I hesitate.
“I should pick up the shift at the bar,” I tell him. “Friday is a good night for tips.”
“I specifically heard Henry say he could handle it this week, last time I visited you at work,” he says. “Besides, you’ve yet to see me play. Don’t you want to know how your man handles himself on the field?”
I sigh and nestle myself deeper into his arms. “Of course I do, Keanen. But my life… it’s not like yours. I need to think about keeping my costs down and my income up.”
He tightens his arms around me. For a moment he’s quiet, and I wonder if he’s dozed off. It is, after all, nearly 3 in the morning. I was at the bar late tonight, too, and afterward, well… Keanen can be just as good as my job at keeping me up all night.
But then he shifts beside me in bed, rolling over to face me, until we’re nose-to-nose in the dark, illuminated by the glow of the half moon through his curtains. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
