Fearless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #5)

by Ivy Fox

  “I hate you.”

  “You said that already.” He has the audacity to cock a smile, and fuck if it doesn’t turn me on.

  Unable to stop myself, my lips crash into his to shut him up, swallowing the instant groan that falls from his mouth. Everything happens so quickly after that one kiss, logic evading us both as we surrender to this aching need that lives and breathes inside of us. We are all bruised lips, clanking teeth, and warring tongues, blissfully battling with our counterparts. With our mouths joined together, our hands work double-time to unbuckle my belt, needing the release we crave to make the shit we’re living with a little less painful.

  He bites into my bottom lip and pulls, making me groan at the exquisite pain he’s inflicting on me. I grab his hair at the scalp, pulling his head back until it hits the fridge just so I can bite into his neck. I then run my tongue up his throat, to his jaw, until once again seeking refuge inside his mouth. My other hand pulls his gray sweatpants down his trim hips, releasing his cock, while at the same time Saint latches on to the base of mine. A hiss escapes me when he adds pressure at the base and begins to stroke the length of me.

  Our combined gaze falls to our hands, stroking our cocks in tandem. It feels so fucking good to have his hands on me again, jerking my cock, as I rub the precum on his tip with my thumb.

  “I’m the one who should hate you.” He mewls, kissing my neck, nibbling on it.

  “Then hate me,” I command.

  Because his hate feels a million times better than his apathy.

  Saint grabs me by the throat, and in one quick move, spins us around, turning me over and slamming my chest against the fridge. I mourn the loss of his hand on my quivering cock, but the cool door pressed on my cheek feels amazing on my feverish skin.

  His nails dig into my ass cheeks before I feel his crown at my back. From my peripheral, I watch him spit into his open palm while I grab my dick in my own hand and begin to jerk it. Without any preparation whatsoever, he inches inside me, white, hot pain making my eyes pinch.

  “Slow,” I order on a stilted breath.

  “Fuck you,” he growls in my ear but then does the contrary, leaving open-mouthed kisses on the nape of my neck while slowly slathering my puckered hole with his precum and spit.

  Saint’s words may be cruel and mean, but he gives himself away by how he lavishes my body with gentle care.

  He cares for me, even if he hates himself for it.

  I know the feeling.

  As if hearing the words flowing through my head, Saint presses his temple to my shoulder and just stays like that, breathing me in. My chest constricts at the one moment of weak vulnerability. Needing to purge this feeling from him, I grab at the tips of his hair until his mouth is perfectly aligned with mine and kiss him. I pour all my misery into this kiss, my tongue feeding him the bitter poison I’ve had to swallow down these past few months.

  The kiss pulls him back to me, his dick unashamedly thrusting between my ass cheeks. My body melts to his as I continue to fuck my own hand, his moans of pleasure fueling me on. With one hand on my hip, he slaps mine away from my cock, taking over the smooth strokes. My head falls back, his cheek next to mine, his breathing a symphony in my ears.

  “I should have done this years ago. Then maybe you wouldn’t have fucked with our heads,” he mumbles softly in my ear while positioning his crown once again at my opening. I hold my breath as he gently slides into me, inch by glorious inch, pushing through all its rings until he is deep in my channel.

  “Fuuuuuck,” I gasp, the foreign feeling of fullness overwhelming all my senses.

  My sweaty forehead falls onto the fridge door, the coolness keeping me tethered to the moment. Saint starts to slowly fuck me from behind, and I let him. I welcome the state of submission I find myself in, as he overpowers my body with every gentle thrust. But all too soon, I find the easy, languid tempo maddening, needing more of him. Needing all of him.

  I grab his hand that is currently strumming my cock and speed up his rhythm. When understanding dawns on him, he picks up his pace and starts pounding into me with all that he has.

  Ruthlessly.

  Fearlessly.

  Fucking beautifully.

  It doesn’t take long for me to cum on our combined hands, especially when he whispers my name in my ear, reverence in his tone. He cums on a wail, his forehead falling onto my shoulder, his body shivering behind me. We stay like this, bound together as one, until his cock softens inside me, and our breathing is once again in check. When he pushes off me, my lids shut tightly, hating that I feel his loss already. I don’t move. Just keep still. Because when I turn around, we’ll go back to hating each other.

  And I’m not ready for that yet.

  I hear water run in the kitchen sink for a few seconds, then feel Saint’s breath tickle my cheek again. My lids flutter open as his black orbs pin me to the spot. He ever so diligently cleans his cum off me with a wet cloth and then fixes my clothes back in place.

  We don’t say a word. We just stare at each other as all the words we have to say remain locked away in the confinement of our shattered souls.

  I’m sorry.

  I love you.

  I need you.

  All of these words hang in the air between us, but none of us are brave enough to speak them aloud. My lips part for the briefest of seconds, coaxing his scorching gaze to fall to my mouth. But the fragile moment slips away from us when we hear his bedroom door open. Elle, in her bare feet and makeshift nightgown, walks toward us as she continues to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

  “I’m hungry.”

  In three quick strides, Saint is at her side, kissing her hair and pulling her chin up with one finger.

  “I make a mean grilled cheese,” he whispers lovingly, the torment I saw in his eyes just seconds ago long gone. Elle smiles broadly back at him, the love in her gaze tearing me apart.

  “I… um… I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Saint’s expression turns cold.

  “It’s that way,” he states, his voice arctic, while Elle cradles her head on his chest, unable to look me in the eye.

  He points me to head down the small corridor, and I almost run toward it, slamming the bathroom door shut behind me and leaning against it just so I can keep my balance. I’m finding it hard to breathe, but when I finally manage to get it under control, I’m engulfed in Saint’s scent that’s all over me. I strip my clothes off and jump in his shower, the cold water washing him away but not my despair. I bite into my knuckles to silence my loud outcry of utter devastation.

  I can no longer hide from the truth, not when it’s so blatantly obvious.

  Their love is real, while mine was discarded and easily forgotten.

  Chapter 26

  Elle

  When I hear the shower running, my earlier suspicions of what I walked in on between Saint and Chad are confirmed. Saint’s face is still flushed as he tries to hide it away from me, taking out the condiments he needs from the fridge to prepare me a meal. Before he’s able to bypass me, I hold on to his hand and weave my fingers through his. We both stare at our joined hands in silence until he breaks down, going to his haunches and nestling his head on my lap.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, pained, while I gently run my fingers through his hair.

  “I know you are,” I reply, his open vulnerability hitting me hard.

  Since I arrived on his doorstep, Saint has made every effort not to take what he believes I’m not strong enough to give. But with Chad, he didn’t have that worry. He took him because he needed him.

  Like I need them both.

  “I didn’t understand before,” I begin, my voice soft. “When I walked in on you and Chad back in Aspen, all I saw was the betrayal of it all. I focused solely on my pain, and I was too blind to see yours or his. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.”

  He lifts his head, his soft gaze so tired. So lonely.

  �
��I won’t do it again. Not if it hurts you.”

  A weak smile crests my lips.

  “Don’t make me promises you can’t keep. That’s not who we are. Remember?”

  I place my palm on his cheek, Saint instantly melting into it. It splits my heart in two how someone who puts the fear of God into most people trusts me enough to show me this side of himself.

  Vulnerable and frail.

  Afraid and hurting.

  Lost.

  Just like me.

  Somewhere along the line, we’ve lost our way, and I was the catalyst who pushed us out of our fated path and into this miserable existence. It’s at this very moment that I realize that if I can be the instrument of so much suffering, then I can also be the one who saves us—who finds our way back. Back to a time where life made sense. Back to when we were honestly happy and whole.

  Back to him.

  “I’d like to get some fresh air today. Will you come with me?” I ask, still caressing his cheek.

  Saint is quick to nod, his silent answer confirming that he would follow me to the depths of hell if I wanted. What a pair we’d make there. His demons and mine, all in search of someone to save us. Someone strong enough to hold us up and stop us from being the worst versions of ourselves. That’s what Chad is for us. He’s the force that makes all our ugliness subside. He makes us believe we can be more. That we can be good. It’s probably one of the reasons why we fell in love with him in the first place. He sees us in a way we will never truly see ourselves. He sees us for what we can be, instead of what we are—broken, scared dolls searching for a place we can call home.

  “Princess?”

  “Yes?”

  “You should go with him,” he whispers, still unable to look me in the eye.

  Instead of answering his request, I lean in and kiss his lips, Chad’s taste still lingering on them.

  “How about that grilled cheese you promised me?” I smile, running my thumb over his full bottom lip.

  Saint lets out a meek chuckle and gets up to his feet to start his task. My eyes are glued to every move he makes when the sound of a bathroom door opening grabs my attention.

  Now freshly showered with his wet hair slicked back, Chad walks into the kitchen and grabs a seat next to me. He doesn’t explain his sudden need to get clean, and frankly, he doesn’t need to.

  Given the circumstances we find ourselves in, if I asked him outright what happened in this very kitchen before I arrived, I wonder if he’d still feel the need to lie to me. Where Saint would rather break my heart with the truth than ever play me for a fool, Chad’s previous default mechanism was to omit anything he thought would cause me suffering. However, with everything that’s happened between us, I don’t think that’s the case anymore.

  He’s seen the error of his ways. He lost the two people he cared about most because of his lies and omissions. If any good has come out of our suffering, it’s that Chad will think twice before committing such a mistake again.

  But is that enough?

  Once it’s done, Saint sets the grilled cheese in front of me, kisses the top of my head, and then retreats to the bathroom to get his own shower in. I leave the plate clean, surprised that my hunger has returned to me, especially considering the fact that Chad has decided to fill the awkward silence by bombarding me with questions in regards to the FBI case against my father and Vivienne.

  Unfortunately, I have nothing to tell him because I just don’t know anything. I left the manor so quickly that I didn’t stay long enough to hear what their next steps would be, but I’m sure another very public trial is in my imminent future.

  “You need to call your brothers,” Chad insists. “If not them, then at least Holland. Let her know that you’re okay.”

  I nod, promising him that I will. I did send her a text early on telling her that I needed a few days to myself, but my headstrong overprotective brothers apparently didn’t think I’d be fine on my own. They still think of me as their baby sister instead of the compilation of scars that I’ve become.

  “How did you know I was here?” I ask him finally.

  “Saint.”

  “Did he ask you to come and get me?”

  “Yes. He’s afraid that you might not be safe here.”

  “No?” I arch a brow. “Then where am I safe if not with him?”

  “With me. You can come with me,” he responds huskily, his blond highlights catching the soft green in his eyes. “I miss you. I miss you so damn much, Elle.”

  I reach my hand toward his forehead, my thumb easing the tension weighing on his pulled brows.

  “I know. I miss you, too.”

  “You do?” he stutters in disbelief.

  “Very much,” I answer truthfully. “But I’m not leaving Saint. Not again. We’re a packaged deal now. Where he goes, I’ll follow and vice versa. Do you understand?”

  Chad sullenly bows his head, unable to meet my piercing stare. Not wanting to fight him on this, I get up from my seat and walk toward Saint’s room with the intention of getting dressed so we can go for a walk and finally have the serious talk we’ve been running away from for months.

  But when I push the door open, I find him with nothing but a towel hanging from his hips, droplets of water running down his broad, tattooed chest. I feel Chad standing behind me as we both stare at the black-eyed boy that spurred so much hate and love. Saint swallows dryly, looking at us, unable to move as if our presence in his room has pinned him to the spot.

  Ever slowly, so as not to scare him off, I breach the distance between us. My fingers delicately skate over Saint’s glistening chest, a shiver instantly running down his spine from the mere touch alone. I venture a glimpse over my shoulder and see Chad clutching his fists at his sides, still standing at the door, his hungry gaze completely focused on us.

  Is this how it will always be between us?

  Jealousy and lust wrapped together with a pretty bow of restraint?

  With my gaze fixed on Chad, I go to the balls of my feet and kiss the hollow of Saint’s throat before making my way down his chest. His skin breaks out into little goosebumps with each tender kiss, creating the dull ache in my lower belly to ignite. I pull my gaze away from Chad and crane it up to Saint’s obsidian jewels, my heart leaping to my throat at what I encounter.

  Fear.

  Hurt.

  Lust.

  Love.

  So much love it makes my lungs gasp for air being the bearer of such breathtaking affection.

  On an indrawn breath, all the other contradictory emotions in his perfect dark gaze decide to run off and hide the minute his hand slips under my hair and fiercely grips the nape of my neck. With my eyes never wavering from his, my open palms slide down his chest until they grasp the towel tightly bound to his waist, tugging it off until it falls to the floor. His cock is hard as steel, bobbing against his navel, looking angry that I’ve put it in such a vulnerable position. I reach for the hem of my T-shirt, Saint releasing his hold on me just long enough for me to pull it over my head and drop it next to his towel.

  “Don’t do this,” Saint pleads weakly under his breath, his hands firm on my hips, halting my next move.

  “Then stop me,” I say, bending down and kissing his chest.

  The way his body trembles with each kiss I place on his skin only emboldens me further, want and desire feeling like liquid heat flowing through me. But in the end, it’s love that takes the driver’s seat and torches down all my inhibitions, fears, and insecurities.

  They found their release in each other’s arms. For a few minutes at least, Saint and Chad were able to reach into their souls and ease the pain they’ve been under.

  That’s all I want from them.

  Just a few precious moments where all there is, is us.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing less.

  Just us.

  “Aren’t you tired, Santo?” I whisper, my teeth grazing ove
r his sensitive nipple, Chad’s shallow breathing behind me becoming more erratic with each caress. I nestle my cheek onto Saint’s chest and fling the question back to Chad. “Aren’t you both tired of fighting this? How we all feel for one another?”

  Neither one of them answers me, but their silence can’t shroud how loudly our hearts have suddenly started beating in sync.

  Chad’s eyes flicker from me to Saint before he takes two steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. Saint digs his fingers into my hips as if holding on to me will keep him centered. I grab his jaw and pull it down, so he has no choice but to look me in the eye.

  “I’m so tired of it. All of it. I don’t want to hurt anymore. My heart is exhausted by it all. I don’t want to keep feeling this away. Feeling like I’m always…always—”

  “Empty,” Chad finishes for me, expressing perfectly how I feel inside—how we all feel.

  The sound of my first love inching closer to us has Saint straightening his spine, flexing his muscles, taut and hard, to look impenetrable. Like a cornered animal who knows his hunter is fast approaching, he keeps a vigilant eye on his imposing threat, not trusting his intentions.

  “He won’t hurt us,” I tell him, praying that I’m right.

  “He already has. What makes you think he won’t do it again?” Saint scowls at the boy, who I had given my heart to long before I knew that half of it belonged to another.

  “You don’t,” Chad deadpans, so close to us now that I can feel his breath fan against my shoulders. “All I can promise is that I’ll never hurt Elle again. I’ll do whatever she wants. Even love you.”

  My frown is immediate at his cold words, but to my surprise, Saint’s whole stiff demeanor relaxes at Chad’s promise.

  I turn toward Chad, ready to rectify his statement, but then bite my tongue when his eyes sparkle with the same desperation I feel, yearning for any excuse that will pull the three of us together. Saint’s arms envelop my waist, hands planted firmly on my stomach, his cock digging at the hollow of my back.

  “Turn around and keep kissing him,” Chad orders, his voice heavy and thick.