The Rich Boy

by Scott, Kylie

  Me: Wow.

  Mom: There’s more. An anonymous donor also funded a new library for my school.

  Me: Okay.

  Mom: Sounds like someone’s trying to buy his way back into your good graces.

  Me: Guess so.

  Mom: What do you want to do? Should they accept it?

  Me: He can definitely afford it and is doing it willingly, so yes.

  Mom: Do you want me to call? Do you want to talk about this?

  Me: No. Let me think it over for a while. Thanks.

  Mom: xx

  It’s a lot to take in. Mrs. Flores will be happy. No more shitty view of the building next door, the stink of the bins, and the city fog. The security it will give my brother and his family is not to be underestimated. Then there’s just the joy that is a new library coming into the world.

  “You’ve been busy,” I say, setting aside my phone.

  He just keeps on eating.

  “College funds and libraries and apartments and all sorts of things.”

  He looks up at me from beneath dark brows, but still says nothing.

  “Thank you.”

  He uses the side of his fork to break apart the fish. “Can I make just one highly apt literary quote without pissing you off?”

  “Sure. Why not.”

  “‘I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to,’” he says, voice subdued. “‘I can only hope that your good opinion, once lost, is not lost forever.’”

  “That’s two literary quotes. Don’t push it.”

  “They’re sincerely meant.” His smile is fleeting. “Your friends Natasha and Hanae have also had some unexpected windfalls. They both won hundred-thousand-dollar payouts today.”

  “That’ll make a big difference in their lives. By the way, I also did some more research into local and national charities today. I have plans to give away some more of your money.”

  “Good. Do it. Hoarding money has yet to actually make anyone in my family happy.” He thinks for a moment. “You wanted to know about the therapist. We talked about my family and you and life in general for a few hours. The general message seemed to be that I can’t blame lack of affection and attention from my parents for screwing up everything for the rest of my life. My bad choices caused this situation.”

  “I see.”

  “So I need to accept and let go of the fact that Mom spent most of my childhood being too busy to deal with me and Dad wasn’t any better. Did I ever tell you about the time he forgot I was visiting and went on holiday without me?” he asks. “Guess you could say I haven’t had many positive adult or relationship examples in my life. Not that it’s an excuse. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” I say.

  “Shitty parents messing up your life only works so long, then you’ve got to sort your own self out. I think that’s what’s called being an adult.”

  “True.”

  “You were right when you said we would have been fine if I’d just let us be,” he admits.

  My throat is dry all of a sudden. Stupid emotions. “I was never there for the diamond watches or luxury vehicles, Beck. I was there for you.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Not that they weren’t fun, but they were never necessary. Being with you, having your attention, working through what was between us and building something for the future, that’s what matters to me.”

  “I hear you.” He nods. “I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never loved someone like I love you. Again, not an excuse. But I’m hoping when you’ve had a chance to think it over, you will see it as a reason to maybe give us another chance.”

  My frown feels mighty indeed and my head is abuzz. So many feelings and thoughts spinning around and around. “You know, I’ve never been good at saying the right thing or doing the right thing or managing to exist correctly, apparently. Except with you.”

  His gaze is so sad. “I’m sorry, beloved. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  All I can do is stare. A chunk of his hair has flopped over his forehead and his gaze is all tense. The need to throw myself at him is immense. To just be done with all of this division.

  “How do I trust you?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” He blinks. “I can keep on apologizing and promise that I’ll never lie to you about anything ever again, but…I don’t know exactly how we get past this and I fucking hate that because it’s all on me.”

  My throat is all tight, my eyes itchy. Emotional upheaval is an unrelenting bitch.

  “Though, just briefly going back to the sex thing. I’ve been giving it some thought and I think I was wrong to make us wait. I underrated the importance of physical intimacy.”

  “Oh?”

  “You quit your job, moved states, and started a whole new life for me. And in return, I did not have your back in the way I should have,” he says. “There was always family and business shit distracting me. I failed to support and fuck you like a good boyfriend would have in the same situation.”

  I think it over. “Okay.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “That you love me too and we can get back together now would be nice.”

  “And then there’s the whole trust issue still, Beck.”

  “If you think I’m ever going to lie or mislead you again, you’re wrong,” he says, tone emphatic. “I just spent the worst twenty-four or so hours of my life trying to figure out how I could have been stupid enough to mess things up in the first place.”

  I sigh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Keep me telling me that. I need it.” His jaw does the rigid thing and for a moment he turns away. When he looks back at me, there’s a fire, a passion in his eyes that burns right through me. I am ash. And he is still everything. “You have no idea how fucking grateful I am for it, for you still being here even after I hurt you and messed things up. Because maybe, just maybe, it means you’re as crazy about me as I am about you. And if that’s the case, then we’re definitely going to get through this.”

  I hang my head. Now my damn throat is tight and sore.

  “Beloved?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Wife?” he asks softly.

  “Don’t call me that either.” My nose is not running. There’s just something awkward going on in there. I rub it with the back of my hand like a four-year-old because I’m stylish like that.

  “But I want to call you that. I’ve wanted to call you that since I met you,” he says, reaching into the coat pocket of his leather jacket. “Don’t freak out, but I panicked and did something.”

  Oh, no. “What?”

  A black Harry Winston ring box is placed on the couch between us. He draws back the two halves of the top of the little box, exposing a large square solitaire diamond ring set in a platinum band. It sparkles and shines and generally blows my mind.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter.

  “I know I can’t throw money at this problem and fix it.” He picks up my hand, sliding the ring on the relevant finger. “This isn’t me buying you. It’s me giving you me.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “You can’t…we shouldn’t…Beck.”

  “You don’t need to answer right now.”

  “If we have any chance at all then we need to rebuild the foundations of our relationship properly this time. Fix the trust issues between us and have total honesty. You can’t just jump ahead like this.”

  He just stares at me, his gaze sober.

  “Did you even listen to me when I said we needed to take it slow like a hundred times?”

  “Yes,” he says. “But I didn’t agree.”

  “Plainly!”

  “You can trust me, Alice. I swear it.”

  I sniffle. �
��And this ring is ridiculous.”

  “It wasn’t the biggest one they had. It was just the best quality diamond. Because that’s what you are, a diamond.” His grip firms on my hand, not letting go. “Though it is bigger than anything Grandma has because I felt that was important for various reasons.”

  “I only just moved into the other bedroom.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Besides, sleeping without you made me fucking miserable. I’m not even sure I could have stopped myself from trying to be near you again. I’d probably sleep halfway up the damn stairs so I wasn’t breaking your terms,” he confesses. “Question: Were you planning on breaking up with me any time soon?”

  I frown. “No. You know that.”

  “Okay. Another question: Do you love me?”

  “Beck.” My spine curves as if I’m caving in on myself. “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do. I think you’re just worried that if you say it you’re going to get hurt again. But I’m promising you, that is never going to happen.” He waits and watches, still and patient. Like this conversation, me hesitating, could go on forever and he’d never move an inch. Not until he gets his answer. The stubborn, beautiful, heartbreaking boy who I am absolutely crazy about. “Do you love me, Alice?”

  “Fine,” I growl. “Yes.”

  “Good. That’s good.” And he’s holding back a smile. I can see it.

  For fuck’s sake, I’m crying again. I’m so sick of crying. But at least they’re not sad tears. They’re more along the lines of what the hell just happened tears. When it comes to him, I never stood a chance. This is a fact.

  “It’s okay. Come here,” says Beck, basically grabbing me and dragging me onto his lap. Things are knocked over on the table. Most noticeably the green drink of death. But none of it matters. Big hands cup my face, thumbs wiping away the tears. “Emma said you’re an ugly crier, but I think you’re lovely. She’s just jealous. You know how she gets.”

  “Your family…”

  “Our family.” He stops. “Oh, that reminds me, I’ve got some major sucking up to do to your mother. Probably your dad too, yeah?”

  “I haven’t told them what happened. But it wouldn’t hurt.”

  He nods. “I’m up to the task. You love me. I can do anything.”

  I just smile. “What about your grandmother?”

  “She can either get with the program or get lost. I am not messing around.” He tucks a strand of hair tenderly behind my ear with a satisfied smile. “How do you feel about getting married tonight?”

  “No. Absolutely not. I haven’t even said yes to that yet.”

  He scowls, the indent appearing between his brows. “But it was implied, right? And what if you change your mind?”

  “I’m not going to change my mind. I love you.”

  “And we’ll get married eventually,” he demands, gaze narrowed. “Promise me.”

  “Yes, okay, I promise. If you keep seeing the therapist and we keep working on things and everything goes all right.”

  “Agreed. Though that’s a lot of conditions.”

  “Deal with it.”

  And his mouth is on mine, kissing me stupid. Taking my tears and my fears and everything in between. It’s so good, getting my hands on him, reveling the taste and the feel of him. His breath and mine are the same and for some reason it feels like it’s been forever and a day since we were like this. Our tongues duel and my fingers in his hair. His are meanwhile slipping beneath my tee, pressing into my back, urging me closer. The sensible thing is to straddle him. To get us lined up in all the ways that matter. Physically at least. I’m done with doubt and despair. We’re going to work this out one way or another. Right now we just need to be together. He strokes my back, my shoulders, my neck. It seems like his hands are everywhere, settling me alight. Meanwhile, the growing hardness in his pants is fast turning into nirvana against my sadly clad crotch.

  Who even invented clothing? What a loser.

  “What do you want?” he says, voice harsh and urgent.

  “You.”

  The smile he gives me. It just might be my new favorite. So hot and hungry. “Get undressed, beloved.”

  Best damn idea ever. And I nod because I’m not an idiot when it matters. However, I do need him to steady my hips as I attempt to stand and tear off my top and bra at the same time. Multitasking in this sort of situation is a trial. Especially once hormones and urgency come out to play. Everything needs to be faster, quicker, now. Not to say making love slow and gentle isn’t nice and sweet. We should definitely do it later. Though fucking definitely has a time and a place. Like here and now.

  Our fumbling urgent hands are all over each other. With Beck, being the perfect gentleman, ripping open the button on my jeans and so on. Both jeans and underwear are soon being dragged down my legs. In a feat of great dexterity, I step out of them without falling on my ass. Yes. Naked. Only there’s a problem.

  “You’re fully clothed,” I push his jacket off his shoulders.

  “Right.”

  He stands up, his jacket thrown in one direction, his tee going another. Then there’s that grin again. It’s a delightful mix of lecherous and love. Makes my tummy turn over and my knees go weak. I can’t not cover his face in kisses when he looks at me like that. Impossible. So we’re making out and trying to get him undressed at the same time, which is a little haphazard. And all the while my heart is pounding inside my chest so hard I could swear it echoes throughout the house.

  Our fingers clash at the buckle of his belt, but I take over. Since he’s so set on soul kissing me, I attempt to deal with his pants situation. Just as well given he’s also busy playing with my breasts. He’s pinching and kneading them in the best way possible, making me a wet squirming mess. I grab hold of his cock, pumping him with a twist, rubbing the pad of my thumb over and around the head of his shaft. It’s perfect, how his skin feels like velvet. How hot and alive he is in my hand. His dick swelling and hardening further. The need in him only excites me more. The knot in my pelvis drawing tighter and tighter. I’m wet and swollen between my legs, more than ready and we’ve barely begun.

  This must be love…being so desperate for each other you could die, needing the physical and emotional connection more than you need your next breath. But also being willing to work at it and not give up. Being in love, loving someone, would have to be the most dizzying, terrifying, and thrilling thing to ever happen to me.

  I think love is big and complicated and all encompassing.

  I also think I need to ride him like a pony.

  With his jeans shoved far enough down, I helpfully push him back onto the couch and climb onto his lap. Life is full of potentially embarrassing moments. That my inner thighs are already wet with my juices. That bits of me wobble. That someone could come up the stairs. But fuck that shit. Life is first and foremost to be lived.

  “You need anything?” he asks, gaze dark and thrilling.

  I just shake my heads. Words are beyond me.

  Then he grabs my hips, guiding me. Though it’s not exactly necessary. His dick is large, upright, and demanding attention. It’s not like I can miss it. I leave one hand on his shoulder for balance, using the other to guide him into me. And oh hell, the first feverish brush of him against me. The sensation of him pressing into me, stretching me, filling me just right. It’s exquisite. My eyes roll back in my head and my mind goes to a galaxy far away.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He mumbles against my neck, breath hot on my skin. “Love you so fucking much.”

  I rise up a little, testing the feel of him inside of me. Squeeze him with my inner muscles and bite my lip on the way back down. Yes, yes, yes. This is exactly what we need. Just me and him together.

  He groans. “Alice.”

  It’s as natural as breathing, working myself on him. Taking his cock in deep before raising my body back up again. At first we kiss, mouths pressed tight together. My arms wrapped around his neck, his fingers digging
into the flesh of my sides. I was wrong about fast and furious. Slow is amazing. Just savoring the rigid length of him buried deep inside of me. Over and over I rise, gradually gaining in speed. Hair disheveled and eyes dilated, he’s so carnal. The way he’s collapsed back against the couch, watching me fucking him. Like I’m his own private porn queen and fairy-tale princess all wrapped up in one.

  It’s a powerful and potent thing, being with him. His thigh muscles tense beneath me. The buckle on his belt jangling every time I bounce. Being on top is awesome. And all the while, what we’re building between us gets higher and greater. My toes curl and my back arches, thrusting out my breasts. Beck growls and grabs me tight. The raw animal expression on his face is a thrilling thing. But I can’t keep my eyelids open when it hits. It’s too much. The heat and power of it burns through me from top to toe. My orgasm is a sparkly shining thing of wonder blasting away all of the crap of the last day with ease. Only this warm, glowing, shimmering sensation remains. Ever so slowly it fades from my body. First leaving my fingers and toes, receding until only the great ball of emotion inside my chest remains. It’s not uncomfortable. Nope. It’s right and good.

  Damp face on his shoulder, I lie plastered against him, learning how to breathe again. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight. “We should never leave the house.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Seriously, though. You ready to put the ring on your finger now?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Eventually,” he mutters. “You’re going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  His chest shifts beneath me as he laughs. “Fine. Whatever. Do your worst. I love you. I can take it.”

  “I love you too.”

  But the drama train isn’t done with us yet.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “It’s a great idea,” says Beck, passing me a gin and tonic. “It was your idea, beloved.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “It’s already done so you might as well relax.” Ethan pulls on the cuff of his shirt. “She should be here any minute.”

  Henry looks up from his cell with a smirk. “Entertainment with a capital E.”