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The Initiation

Page 10

by Nikki Sloane


  That made it nearly impossible to prepare.

  Friday morning, while I was stuck in Alice’s office learning that Mr. Powell raced sailboats and competed in regattas, my mother and Emily went to the doctor and confirmed she was pregnant. Apparently, the relationship between her and her professor had ended as quickly as it had started, and once she told him he was the father, he calmly offered her five thousand dollars to take care of it and not tell his wife.

  I loved my sister, but—Jesus. She had the worst taste in men.

  I was still incredibly hurt that she’d kept so much from me. She’d tried to talk to me, but I’d used my meetings with Alice as an excuse to avoid her. I just needed more time to get over it. Emily was fragile right now, and I didn’t want to say anything that would upset her.

  On Saturday, I arrived at the Hale estate after lunchtime. I’d spent the morning making my way through my family’s finances. The head in the sand approach wasn’t working. I told them I’d rather face it head-on, no matter how bad it was. I’d go into it with eyes wide open.

  Royce saw my Porsche pull up in the circle drive and came out to meet me. He wore shorts and a t-shirt, looking much more his age than when I’d seen him at the office two days ago. I’d snapped the picture of him that day for myself, but Alice posted it to my account. She’d tagged him in it and used a million hashtags, and as a result, I had a hundred new followers.

  All of Cape Hill knew we were dating. They believed the lie that Royce Hale was into me.

  Although, as he made his way down the stone steps and opened the passenger door of my SUV, he flashed a genuine smile, and I wanted to believe the lie too. Just for today, I told myself.

  It was a manufactured whirlwind romance, so why did I struggled to find the deception?

  “Hi,” he said as he climbed into the passenger seat. “You look nice.”

  Perplexed, I glanced down at my basic top and pair of jeans. I’d put on makeup, but nothing special. I simply looked like me. “Hey. Thanks.”

  He buckled his seatbelt. “Where are we going?”

  “The old mall that closed down. They have a big, empty parking lot you can practice in.”

  He nodded his approval, and then we were off.

  Royce was quiet for the first few minutes. An angsty love song crooned from my car speakers and I thought about changing it, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stared out the window and watched Cape Hill speed by.

  “Where did you leave it with Alice?” he asked finally.

  “She’s told me about almost everyone on the board, so I think I’m in good shape? I don’t know. It’s weird. Sometimes it feels like she’s purposefully keeping me in the dark.”

  He didn’t turn to look at me, so I couldn’t see his expression, but he kept his voice even. “Maybe she’s trying to protect you.”

  Well, that was cryptic. “Protect me from what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not on the board yet. It’s not official until my initiation is done.” His words died off at the end. This was something he wasn’t supposed to say, or I wasn’t supposed to know.

  “Initiation?” I struggled not to roll my eyes. “Is there a secret handshake and decoder rings too?” I wanted to study him closer, but I needed to keep my attention on the road.

  He’d probably been aiming for a casual tone, but it came out forced. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Okay.” The silence between us dragged, and I felt compelled to fill it. “So, the only person she hasn’t talked about is your father.”

  The mood in the car plummeted further. “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “Anything, I guess. I’m going to be honest—he scares the hell out of me.”

  Royce was quiet.

  The tension got to me. “So, do you like Alice?”

  “I do.” He sounded sincere.

  “How’d she get together with your dad? I mean, he’s her boss.”

  He relaxed on a breath. “She’s like him in a lot of ways. When she wants something, there’s no stopping her. That woman is relentless. For example, you say he scares you? Lots of people are terrified of him, but not Alice. She’d been working at the company a week when she walked into my father’s office and told him he needed to get rid of his brand manager. She asked him to fire her boss and showed him all the reasons why.” Royce fiddled with an air vent before continuing. “That took guts. He respects her.”

  Macalister’s marriage wasn’t about love but finding a partner he respected. They made it work. Did he assume the same would happen for his son and me?

  The conversation lulled for a moment before Royce added, “When they first got married, they used to fuck like rabbits.”

  What? Was he trying to deflect?

  “Lovely,” I gritted out. Macalister was handsome and powerful, but I couldn’t imagine wanting to sleep with him.

  “It drove Vance and me nuts, but it kept him occupied and off our backs.”

  I hesitated. “He always seemed pretty involved in your lives.”

  “Ever since my mom died, yeah.”

  The Hale estate used to have working stables because Elizabeth Hale loved horses. She’d been riding one when it spooked and threw her off. She hadn’t been wearing a helmet, and when she fell, her head slammed into a stump.

  She hadn’t died right away. It’d been three agonizing days for the Hale family as she deteriorated in the hospital before she was gone. I’d been six when it happened and barely remembered her, but she’d been nice and pretty, and Macalister hadn’t seemed so scary back then.

  Maybe when she died, all he felt he had left were his sons and his legacy.

  After several laps in the parking lot, Royce said he felt confident enough to try driving on some back roads. I agreed. He’d been surprisingly easy to teach. I would have thought he’d shrug off my instructions, not just because he was older and a man, but because he’d acted most of his life like he was better than everyone else.

  My assumptions about him were wrong. He really had been acting, putting on fake bravado so he wouldn’t appear weak in his father’s eyes. Today he listened thoughtfully and took directions, and had no problem asking questions. There didn’t seem to be any worry that he might look stupid or make mistakes and I would judge him.

  Behind the vacant department store on one end of the mall, the parking lot let out into a neighborhood, and beyond that, away from civilization. The heavily wooded sections of the curvy road were broken up occasionally by farmland, but otherwise the trees, flush with the first leaves of summer, closed in around us.

  “I see what you mean,” he said abruptly. “It’s nice.”

  He subtly relaxed his grip on the steering wheel but kept his hands at ten-and-two. We weren’t going very fast as he navigated the curves and gently slalomed through the forest. I smiled. “I thought you’d like it.”

  He took his gaze off the road for a second, and when he turned his head to look at me and smile, his hands followed, moving slightly to the right.

  The road was narrow. A single strip of white paint outlined the edge of the pavement, and there wasn’t a shoulder. Only some gravel and grassy weeds. The car drifted just enough to edge off the pavement, crunching rocks and earth noisily under the tires.

  “Shit!” Royce’s focus snapped back to the road and he jerked the wheel.

  But he overcompensated, and we swerved into the oncoming lane. No one was coming—the road had been empty the whole time we’d been on it—but we were at the base of a steep hill and couldn’t see what lay ahead. He yanked the steering wheel back the other direction, once again with too much aggression, and the tires dipped off the road a second time.

  I punched the nonexistent brake in the passenger seat with my foot, wanting to slow us down, and Royce must have had the same thought. Only in his panic, he pushed the wrong pedal and the car lurched forward.

  The engine screamed as he slammed his foot on the accelerator.

  My hands flew out, bracing
myself in my seat. “Brake!”

  He twisted the wheel wildly as we bounced further off the road, the nose of the car pointed straight for a line of trees that looked like they’d been there a hundred years. Tires churned on the uneven ground, and we swung wildly back toward the road.

  “Brake!” I yelled again. We shot across the pavement in a blink and were on the other side of the road, barreling toward a deep ditch. Oh, God. I shut my eyes and held my breath, preparing for impact.

  But abruptly, the car turned. It rumbled to a shuddering stop like it was on a hook being pulled the opposite direction.

  He’d finally found the brake.

  I heard the gearshift move as he put the car into park. It was silent except for the music wafting from the stereo, which was slow and smooth in stark contrast to the pulse hammering in my body.

  Air burst from my lungs as I opened my eyes. We were sitting on a grassy bank beside the creek, facing the opposite way we’d been driving and on the other side of the road. My Porsche seemed to have survived unscathed, we were all right, and to anyone who passed by, it would probably appear like we’d intentionally pulled off the road to park here.

  Royce didn’t look at me. He turned the engine off, pushed open his door, and climbed out. Was he running away? Where the fuck was he going? My seatbelt was made of concrete and weighed me down. I couldn’t move. I sat dumbfounded as he disappeared behind the back of the SUV.

  A shadow fell across me and then my door was tugged open, bringing in cool air and the scent of the woods. I lifted my gaze to stare up at him. He had one hand on the door frame and the other on the roof, trapping me in. His face was streaked with worry. “Are you all right?”

  I blinked. “I’m fine. Are you?”

  “I’m fucking embarrassed.” He sucked in a deep breath as he stepped back. “I could have killed us.”

  Since it no longer weighed anything, I undid my seatbelt and stood, my knees wobbling. “We’re okay.”

  I’d disliked him for so long, and now everything was upside-down. His eyes were full of shame and his lips twisted downward in a frown, and I hated the way it looked on him. I even preferred the cocky version he pretended to be over this.

  “You did pretty good up until the end, there,” I said, desperate to relieve the tension, “but maybe don’t fire your driver.”

  A faint smile warmed his lips. “Do you want to know what my final thought was when we were headed for that creek?”

  Please say something sexy. Because my heart was still racing, and adrenaline filled my bloodstream. “What was it?”

  “That this is all your fault.”

  My mouth dropped open. “My fault?”

  The heat in his eyes was the only hint he wasn’t being serious. Or perhaps he wasn’t talking about the near crash but was accusing me of something else. I didn’t get time to think about it. He used one strong hand to grip my waist and pull my body crashing into him, and the other to cradle my face, angling my head so he could claim my lips.

  Our last kiss had been restrained since we were in his office in the middle of the work day. Now there was no one around to interrupt the intense, wild way he kissed me. His tongue pressed at the seam of my lips and demanded entrance, which I gave with a soft sigh. Warmth bloomed in my center and spread along my limbs, heating me to my toes and fingertips.

  Our kiss started with passion, but it morphed into something different the longer our mouths were melded. It became harder. Darker. Reckless.

  His hand twined in my hair, tugged at the strands, and moved right to the edge of pain. I put my hand on his shoulder and sank my fingernails into the meaty part of his arm. He escalated by sliding his hand down my back and gripped my ass so hard, I rose up onto my toes, pushing deeper into him.

  I’d kept my raw, primal desire for Royce contained for a year, but this kiss? It unleashed all of it. Lust poured out of me in a throaty moan. It ached and throbbed between my legs as an empty feeling I was desperate for him to fill. And it intensified as he abandoned my lips and nipped at my neck, yanking so hard on my hair it stole my breath.

  His teeth said he was angry with me, like he was mad about how much he wanted me, but his lips replaced the sting and wordlessly showed me he wasn’t. Using his hold, he moved us one stumbling step so he could pin me flat to the backseat door.

  Sunlight dappled through the trees. Birds called out. Cicadas buzzed their deafeningly loud hum from seemingly nowhere yet all around us in the forest. It fed into the belief that Royce and I were entirely alone. The last two souls on the Earth.

  He worked a hand up my shirt and raked his fingers over the cup of my bra, trying to get inside. I wanted to take everything off and give him free rein over my body. I wanted him to have me, and I’d waited a year for this.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  “What?” He growled it in my ear. He’d heard what I’d said but demanded I repeat it anyway. And to distract me, he adjusted his stance so his leg was between mine and his thigh pressed at the junction of my legs. Pleasure was hot lighting coursing through me as he ground against my center.

  “You could have killed us, and I would have died a virgin.”

  He stepped away from me so abruptly, I nearly fell to the ground without his support. He stroked a hand over his lips, like he was wiping away the taste of my kiss. His expression was hard, and chaos swarmed in his eyes. “You’re not going to.”

  “Great.” My word was sharp like the need he created inside me. I kept my gaze fixed on him as I grabbed the handle and wrenched open the door to the back seat. “Then, let’s do this.”

  Anger tensed every muscle in him. His chest expanded as he pushed forward and got in my face. “Oh, believe me, Marist. I’m going to fuck you. But not today.”

  What the hell was his deal? He wasn’t a virgin, and he was obviously interested in me. I wasn’t asking him something difficult. “Why not?”

  “Because,” he said with exasperation, “I’m not taking your virginity in the back seat of your Porsche.”

  That problem was easily solved. “Okay. Let’s go back to your place.”

  “No. Why are you in such a hurry?”

  A noise of frustration seeped out of me. “Oh, I don’t know—because I want to know what it’s like? I’m ready. I did what you asked. I waited, Royce. For you. For a whole fucking year where it was all I could think about, and I don’t understand how you’re not dying like me.”

  The words had run out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I swallowed a breath at what I’d revealed.

  His hard edge softened and blurred until it was gone. He motioned to the open back seat. “Get in.”

  Yes. I scrambled across the leather bench seat and was relieved when he followed, folding his long legs into the small space before shutting the door behind himself. He turned to me, and his lips parted, but nothing came out. There was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words. Or perhaps they were choked in his throat.

  His hesitation made me nervous.

  He smoothed his hands along his thighs and finally found his voice. “In my experience, the first time is uncomfortable for girls.”

  I lowered my chin so I could look at him with a plain expression. “Deflowered a lot of virgins, have you?”

  “Some, yeah. I want to give you . . .” his lips pressed together as he struggled, “the best chance for you to enjoy it the first time.”

  He was so serious, and it was sobering. “Okay, sorry. I’m not following you. What do you—”

  He moved quickly. His mouth was hot and urgent, thrust to mine. His hands went to the snap of my jeans and made quick work of dropping my zipper. I still didn’t understand what he’d meant, but he seemed to be on board now, so I let it go. There was awkward twisting and fumbling as we sat side by side and struggled to push the denim down over my hips and legs. I hadn’t gotten the jeans past my ankles before he shoved a hand down the front of my panties and touched me.

  I gaspe
d and latched a hand on his forearm. Not to stop him. It was instinctual from the sensation he caused. It felt so good. A featherlight caress over my swollen clit, but it packed a punch of pleasure, and a shudder rattled through me.

  It was warm in the car, but not terribly so. Still, sweat blossomed on my skin. Royce’s distracting mouth on mine and his hand grinding against me caused my knees to fall open as wide as possible with the jeans still wrapped around my ankles. I looked ridiculous like this. My shirt was on, and it couldn’t look sexy, me in this state of half-undress. But his hand moving inside my black satin underwear? That was undeniably hot.

  I broke the kiss and pressed my forehead to his. His dick was already half-hard, straining against the fly of his shorts. I whispered as I reached for him. “Let’s get naked.”

  But he shifted to prevent my touch and slid a finger past my entrance. I was already breathless and coming apart, but his voice was low and solid. “I’m dictating how this goes, Marist.”

  His thick finger slipped further inside, making me freeze. Like last time, his gentle, slow thrust felt uncomfortably tight but also weirdly good. I liked the stretch of my body as it got used to him.

  I let out a shuddering breath as he leaned over and pulsed his finger in and out, going a little deeper with each pass. He stopped kissing me abruptly and withdrew. It was so he could jerk the front of my panties down. When I understood what he was trying to do, I closed my legs and lifted my hips, helping him work my underwear down until it was also caught around my ankles.

  This time, when he plunged his finger back inside me, he wasn’t gentle. He asserted his ownership of me, and my body responded, clamping down. He let out an appreciative groan, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked smile.

  He rocked his finger in and out, picking up the pace as he studied me. That dark, intense stare of his was as fiery as the sun. Now, it was sweltering in the car. Sweat dampened my temples and the nape of my neck.

  I tipped my head back, letting it rest on the seat as trembles inched up my legs—

  “Oh,” I said on a shallow breath.

  One finger felt good, but two fingers . . . were too much, too fast. I had a hand on his shoulder, but I curled my fingers into a fist. My body tightened with discomfort. I knew I’d get used to it, but I needed a moment.

 

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