She’s a goddamn vision.
“Let’s go. Dig in,” Liam bellows from behind me.
The muscles in my jaw tense, from the strength produced throughout my body, as I lean in and pull back.
Donovan’s eyes meet mine, and I focus in on her. All my determination, my power, all of it, directed right at her. The longer we stay locked on each other, the more her breath begins to mimic my rhythm, rising and falling in unison. Can you feel that, Cherry?
Each movement increases the intensity, and I feel hyper focused, unstoppable. My mind is on a singular goal. I’m fueled by some animalistic need to make her feel this, the pure fucking bliss of this experience. Her lips part, and I want to lean in, thrust my tongue inside, and explore. Instead, an arrogant smirk graces my face, and I break my eyes from hers, letting them drift over her body. She feels this too. I can tell because everywhere my eyes touch her skin pricks with goose bumps.
I want to touch you.
Grunts and hard breaths come from behind me, and Donovan’s eyes shift to Liam, holding there for a moment, then back to mine. Heat flushes her cheeks, making my dick jump. Dirty thoughts for a dirty girl. A growl pulls from my throat with each thrust of my oar into the water, and she swallows hard.
I want more of that reaction.
I want to grind harder, push more, make her fucking feel it.
I want to watch her eyes stay hooded, and her teeth remain embedded in that suckable bottom lip. Donovan’s hands grip the wood harder, and my eyes drop to her lap. The tiny plaid skirt she’s wearing has blown up her legs. The only thing keeping her decent is the material squeezed between the apex of her creamy thighs, right where I know she tastes the sweetest.
“Big push” is yelled out, breaking my concentration, and I know that we only have a few yards to go.
We all dig in harder, tugging and grunting, until we’re physically spent, dropping back to lie splayed out as we cross over the invisible finish line. I sit up quickly and reach out with my free hand and slowly pull her skirt from the middle of her thighs and spread it back over her legs. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do since it’s my fault it’s raised and maybe even wet.
“Was it worth it?” I question, my sweaty chest still heaving as my fingers drift off her thighs.
Donovan licks her lips, brushing her hair from her face, and leans back, tipping her head up. “More than.”
I had to take two showers, the minute I got home. One to wash off my day and the other to wash off the memory of Donovan. Fuck if I can’t get that damn girl out of my head. My fingers crawl out and touch the screen of my phone, debating whether or not to call her. If I do, it’ll give away who I am, but I’m tempted. She bailed the minute we let her off the boat, but I could still smell her cherry lip gloss after she left, that and her sex—cherries and cream.
The phone in my hand feels heavy as I tap it gently against my desk and squint my eyes as I stare down. She likes this game. And I like her. It’s not time to clue her in, but I need to see her tonight.
Damn.
My head is foggy, and I can’t make sense of what’s going on anymore. But what I do know is that I like Donovan and I want to keep her around—hand in mine, eyes on me. I type out a quick message and grab my shoes.
Me: Go to Levain’s bakery, for her favorite. I’ll meet you at her place in twenty.
Liam: I like the way you think.
I pull on my sneakers and stand, making my way out of the door. A grin graces my face knowing that she’s going to be giddy over what we’re bringing her.
Taking two stairs at a time down to the main floor, I cut a corner around the railing toward where the garage is located. The house is silent, seeing as it’s only Caroline and myself, and since we’re barely speaking, it’s especially quiet. And most of the staff are either gone for the night or in their quarters. That’s the regular schedule after we’ve had dinner, but as I walk down the darkened hall, a light calls my attention.
My father’s office.
Nobody uses his office, or even enters it when he’s gone. So that means Evan must be home. This should be fun. I rap on the door before I push it open, knowing that will piss him off, but not caring if it does. He’s the kind of bastard who expects people to cower once he’s given a direction, and I stopped doing that a long time ago.
“Grey.”
“Evan.”
He doesn’t look up as he says my name. Instead, he keeps reading from a file folder as I enter the room and walk toward the sizable Chippendale desk he’s sitting behind. Two plush chairs are situated in front, but I choose to stand. Placing my hand on the back of one, I push my keys into my pocket, hearing them jangle. His dark eyes finally lift, giving me a bored countenance, as he leans back in his throne-like leather club chair.
“Isn’t this a tad bit late for you to be heading out? Children should be in bed. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
Dick. My hand draws across the cool, smooth fabric of the chair as I smirk.
“I haven’t been a child for a long time. Granted, you missed much of my youth, but I would’ve thought you’d have a firm eye on when I’m turning eighteen.”
Silence. Usually, we spar for longer before really twisting the knife, but I’m in a hurry. Let’s go, Dad. Might as well get how much you hate me out of the way now.
A sneer graces his indelicate features as his finger taps the desk. “How could I forget the date of our family’s destruction?”
Our? Last I checked I’m the sole heir to this fortune. The moment my mother died, she made sure of it. Now it’s just a countdown to my eighteenth birthday—the day I become the majority shareholder, and he becomes just some dick who got fucked by another McCallister. Me being the second one.
“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Father.”
I can’t help but sarcastically enunciate the word father, because that’s not something he’s ever been to me, and my mother’s death just highlighted what he’d always felt toward me—competition. Talk about a hard pill to swallow when you’re a kid—knowing that your father hates you. Or that he would’ve gotten rid of me if he could’ve, for his own selfish gain.
It’s still hard.
“That’s not the only vote you won’t get. If I have it my way, you’ll lose many.”
His hand drifts over the manila folder in front of him, and I can see his thoughts swirling. What are you up to, Evan? When he looks at me, it’s smug and arrogant, but there’s a hint of something I can’t quite place. Indecision? Fear? No. It’s bullshit. He wants to sell me on the idea he has control.
My scrutiny lowers to the folder and back to him. I’ll play, Evan.
“You’ve been at this for years. Why not accept the inevitable and walk away? It’s not without a handsome compensation.”
I turn away, not waiting for his answer, and walk toward the bookshelves that line the wall.
“All I need is one fuckup, Grey. Then you’re done.”
My shoulders jump as I huff out a laugh, but it’s all for show. My father is actively seeking to ruin my future, and he’s unashamed of it. That’s not something that makes me want to laugh.
“Is that the best you’ve got? That I’ll rue the day? You sound like a cartoon villain.”
I grab a book from the row and open it, flipping through the pages as I hear him stand behind me.
“I’m not the only one not too keen on a child running a legacy. You should keep playing with your little boats and understand your limitations, son.”
I snap the book shut and turn around, irritated with his condescension.
“Don’t call me that. Let’s be real. I’m not your son anymore.”
“Well, maybe you never were. She was quite the whore when I met her.”
Fucking asshole. He knows right where to hit. But I won’t let him use the love I have for my mother against me. I may be young, but I’m not stupid.
“It’s a good thing she liked to make gutter runs, or you’d still be wearin
g fifty-dollar Sears suits. This isn’t about running any company. It’s about the name. My name. Not yours. I’m the legacy. You married in. It must have been emasculating to take your wife’s name. Then again, you’ve always seemed like a pussy.”
His face grows red with anger. A vein in his neck is beginning to protrude just as his fist lands hard against the desk. “I built this company, you little fuck. I built the McCallister name.”
“You built nothing.”
He shoves the papers as his hands push from the surface, and he charges in my direction. “Nothing? It’s solely because of me that you’ll have a goddamn legacy to eventually squander.”
“I’m sure Grandfather would disagree, even from the grave. By proxy doesn’t equal entitlement. But what do I know, I’m just a kid, right, Evan?”
His hands reach for my neck, but I step back, and they land on the collar of my shirt, gripping it and shoving me back against the stacks of books behind me.
“You think that because your poor pathetic drunk mother accidentally ran into a fucking tree, I should forfeit what’s mine? You talk a big game, but this world is full of horrors you can’t even comprehend. And I’m one of them.”
A smile plays against my lips as he shoves me backward again with more force, knocking books off the shelves. He’s lost control, but this Evan is the most predictable and the least scary to me because I know him well.
He brings his face close to mine, spit gathering on the sides of his mouth from his fury. “Do you think you have what it takes? Do you know how to be a man? Men take what they want. I took what I wanted from your mother. From this company. And I’ll fucking take it from you too.”
My eyes close for a moment, giving me a calm that I need, and reopen locked on Evan’s. I lift my hands, covering mine over his, and begin to pry his fingers from my shirt. His eyes widen as I pull easily against his efforts to keep them in place. He flexes the muscle in his jaw with his strain, but it’s of no use. There was a time when Evan was stronger than me, but that’s long since passed.
Gripping both his hands violently, I take a step forward, causing him to step back from me.
“This is the only warning I’ll give, Evan.” I thrust his hands down back toward his body and stare him down. “The next time you put your hands on me, I’ll be the consequence. I’m not ten, or twelve, or even fourteen. There’s a price for challenging me. Make sure you can pay it.”
Fear replaced by rage is all I can see in his eyes before I smooth my shirt and walk out of his office, leaving the door open.
Donovan
Ernie: Where’d you go after practice today?
Straight to hell with all my thoughts.
Me: Homework…how was the rest?
Bert: Open your bedroom door, and we’ll tell you.
What? My feet scramble against my bed to get me to the floor but halt as I start to run. Shit. My head swings around the room, looking for the things I don’t want anyone to see.
No dirty laundry or open journals. Perfect.
I finish my small sprint to my bedroom door and yank it open. “Hi.”
My smile matches theirs, and I can’t help but feel a little swoony. Grey’s leaned against the doorjamb, thumb running across his bottom lip, and Liam’s standing behind, just barely, a hand gripping the back of his neck and his other holding a small white square box.
It should be illegal for them to travel together.
Grey leans down, kissing my cheek, using my waist to push me back into my room. Liam follows, kissing my other cheek, and hands me the box that smells delicious.
“What’s this?” I question, turning around and watching them explore my room.
“You know what it is, Cherry,” Grey answers, pulling my eyes as he makes himself comfortable.
“Hold on. How’d you guys get up without a keycard?”
They look at each other and smirk leaving me without an answer as they invade my space. Whoa, this is weird. The last time Grey and Liam were here, they were twelve. It’s definitely a different vibe now. Friendship isn’t the right word for us, even though it is. We find comfort in each other’s company, in a way we can’t achieve with any others, but it’s the craving we all feel that brought them here tonight. The same craving that had us crossing lines at the lake. The thought gives me pause before I inevitably sink just a bit deeper into us.
Grey toes off his shoes and relaxes back on my bed, grabbing the remote control. My teeth find the inside of my cheek as I quietly remind myself he’s off-limits. He pats the bed, and I nod, but first open the box to see it’s my favorite chocolate chip cookie from Levain Bakery on Third. I can’t help but breathe it in, squeezing my shoulders upward and letting the memories fill my senses.
“Your room’s the same. It’s a trip, Van,” Liam says, running his hand over the horseback riding awards that still occupy the bookshelves.
“It’s weird to have you in it again. Last memory I have is you letting me paint your nails. Remember that?” I giggle and close the box, more interested in watching Liam look around my room.
He looks like even more of a giant than he usually does, walking alongside the memory of him.
Liam passes me, stopping just as he does, and leans down, whispering in my ear, “I’d let you paint more than my nails now.”
So much for keeping it together. I hold the small box in one hand and rub my other hand on my neck, hoping to rub my blush away as I attempt to change the subject.
“Perv,” I tease. “What are you guys doing here? It’s a Wednesday night. Don’t you have homework?”
“We’re good.” Liam smiles, stepping away.
“Is it a crime to want to hang out with our best friend?” Grey adds.
I smile, shaking my head, and turn around to walk to the bed, climbing on next to Grey. He’s staring at the television, but I don’t think he’s actually watching it. Something’s off. My eyebrows draw together as I scoot closer to him. “You okay?”
Grey keeps his eyes on the cooking show as he lifts his arm for me to cuddle. I don’t even hesitate, molding myself to him, hearing him release a breath.
“I am now.”
I want to push, find out what has all that worry nestled in on his forehead. But his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with the ends of my hair as he lets out a more relaxed breath. So I give him more of what he needs and lay my head on him as I reopen the box.
“You have to share, though,” Liam directs, standing at the side of the bed and looking down at me.
“Yeah. We both get a piece,” Grey says to the television, dragging his attention to my face.
I know they’re talking about the cookie, but for a moment, everything inside of me melts into mush. Damn, I’m the perv.
“Totally.” I smile, breaking it into three pieces. “Here, friends.”
Liam laughs as I enunciate the last part and shoves his whole piece almost entirely into his mouth before he reaches over his shoulder and drags his sweatshirt over his head. His T-shirt underneath lifts, showing his cut stomach and a light brown happy trail that disappears into his low-hanging warm-ups.
“Is it everything you remembered?”
My eyes blink, and I press my tucked lips together, trying to hide my embarrassment as I turn to Grey’s questioning face. He glances down at my cookie and smirks before looking back to the television.
“I was asking if you liked the cookie, but you haven’t taken a bite yet.”
“Oh.” I take a quick bite, chew, and try to swallow it down my dry throat, partially wishing that I’d choke to death to avoid my cringey moment.
I hold my arm out over Grey’s chest and wiggle my fingers for the water on my nightstand, putting it to my lips the moment he hands it to me. Liam climbs on top of the blanket next to me, tugging my pajama-covered legs over his lap and resting a hand on my calf. The three of us lie there, mesmerized, watching a woman try to recreate a French recipe she doesn’t know how to make.
“What the fuck
are we watching?” Liam finally asks, making me giggle.
Grey looks over with a hilariously serious expression. “Total idiots try to make five-star recipes and get voted off when they suck more than the others. I don’t remember the name.”
We all look back at the TV as the woman starts to cry when she’s voted off.
“Do they win something if they last until the end?” I ask, confused as to why she’s being so dramatic.
“Ten thousand dollars.”
Liam steals my water and chugs it down, handing it back almost empty. “I’ll give you ten thousand tomorrow to find something else.”
I smile at Liam, and Grey grins as he backs out of the show and goes back to browsing.
“American Ninja Warrior” is yelled out by Liam and me simultaneously, as Grey scrolls past, then moves back to click on it.
My head pops up off Grey’s shoulder. “Hey, I almost forgot to ask you guys. I heard in my last period today that there’s a party this weekend. What time are we going?”
Liam and Grey both exchange a look before Liam answers.
“No. We’re Netflixing and chilling.”
My brows raise, and Liam quickly adds, “The platonic kind.”
I knew what he meant. That’s not what surprised me. They just told me I wasn’t going to a party? It’s as if we’ve never met.
“Cool, then maybe we can hook up after you guys finish because I’m going to the party.”
Grey twists his head toward me, looking at me grumpily. “Funny girl. You aren’t going either.”
“Why? Because you say so?” My laugh escapes before I’m done speaking. “You’ve confused a period with a question mark. I wasn’t asking.”
Both guys sit up, causing me to plop back on the pillow, and stare up at them.
“Then stay because we like you,” Liam offers, in that sincere way only he can. “And if that’s not enough, stay because we’d rather hang out with you than anyone else.”
Shit. There’s no way I’m saying no to that speech and his damn face grinning down at me. But I have to put up a bigger fight, or they’ll know how to work me over for everything. And in this friendzone, they don’t get to choose for me. Ever.
Filthy Little Pretties Page 16
