Dirty Prince
Page 15
“But you almost put Nav in the hospital when you found out about him and I.”
“Because Nav had no right touching you at all. We all knew Lev had been in love with you since he was eight years old. Nav kissed you to piss him off.”
“What?” I sniff and turn to my brother. “He told me King dared him to.”
“Those fuckers. They left that part out in the version they told me.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s not to say Nav didn’t fall in love with you, eventually. Hell, maybe he’d always felt something for you too, but I beat the shit out of him because he used you to hurt Lev.” Saint leans back against the headrest and turns toward me. “So, what are you going to do, Peaches?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I suggest you figure it out, because you have about five seconds before he opens your door.”
“What?” I turn and see the shadowy figure through my window. Lev is decked out head to toe in black motorcycle gear. He opens my door and a blast of freezing winter wind assaults us.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Saint says and exits the car.
Lev holds out his hand and I place mine inside his gloved one as he pulls me from the vehicle.
“I didn’t hear your bike.”
“It’s early. I didn’t want to wake anyone, so I cut the engine and wheeled it up the drive.”
“Oh.” I swipe the tears from my cheeks and try to stop my teeth from chattering from the cold. Lev removes his gloves and slides them onto my hands. I press them to my lips. They’re warm and smell like him.
Saint crosses the yard to the garage but turns before heading inside. “Fox?”
Lev glances at him and swallows hard. I don’t follow suit; I can’t take my eyes off the dark stubble on Lev’s cheek and chin, or the harrowed look in those golden eyes that were filled with so much passion and emotion only a few short hours ago.
“Do the right thing, or this time I will fucking kill you,” Saint says and turns his back on us.
“I’ve seen you with a switchblade, I don’t intend to be on the receiving end of it.” Lev’s gaze slides to mine. “You skipped out on me.”
I steel my jaw, tilt my chin a little higher, my nose in the air. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Did you come last night just to punish me, or because you actually missed me?” he says. I open my mouth to answer, “A little of both”, but he clamps his warm hand over it and my eyes widen. “And before you give me shit—because I know you will—know this; last night was the first time I truly felt alive since I first kissed you.”
His hand slips from my mouth, but I don’t have a snide comeback prepared. I can’t. It hurts too much to go on hurting one another. I lower my gaze to his throat and stare at his bobbing Adam’s apple because it means I won’t have to see his response. “I came to hurt you, and realized halfway through that the only person I was hurting was me.”
“That’s not true.” He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my face up to his. “You broke my fucking heart when I woke this morning and you were gone.”
“You said yourself it was one night.”
“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. And since when did you start listening to anything I say?”
“I’ve always listened. I just never gave you what you want,” I whisper as he lowers his lips toward mine. He doesn’t kiss me though—he just studies my gaze. “What are you waiting for?”
“You to show me your vulnerability.”
“Why?” I search his gaze. “So you can use it against me?”
“So you can let me in, and I can finally fucking love you the way I was supposed to.”
“I let you in once and you broke my heart.”
“And I’d die before I ever did it again. Did you hear nothing I said last night?”
I search his gaze, but I know this is no longer a game to either of us. Our hearts are on the line, bleeding, raw, beating for the other, and all it would take is for one of us to give in.
So, I do.
I open my mouth and whisper, “I love you, Lev Fox. I love you so much it hurts me. I love you enough to let you win.”
Before I can say anything more, his lips are on mine, his tongue in my mouth, massaging my own. I throw myself into the kiss, wrapping my arms around him, even as the tears stream down my cheeks. He slides his hand up my side, over my neck, and he cups my face in his hands as he pulls away.
“You already won. Don’t you get it? I’ve loved you since I was eight years old, Cub.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve got a whacked-out way of showing it.”
“Boys will be—”
“Assholes.”
“I was gonna go with the C-word, but that works too.”
I shake my head. “How are we supposed to do this? The whole school thinks I’m a tramp, and there’s Nav to think about.”
“It doesn’t matter. Fuck the school—”
“They think I already did.”
“We know the truth, and that’s all that matters. You’re still a queen, Scout. Who gives a fuck if your crown is a little tarnished? You’re my queen.”
I frown. “Marie Antionette was the queen of France, and look what happened to her.”
“She wasn’t nearly as clever, or as ruthless as you.”
I give him a wan smile. “You forgot pretty.”
“I forget everything else.” He exhales on a sigh. “You’re all I see, Cub.” Lev cups my face and kisses the tears that roll down my cheeks. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. It’s freezing out here.”
“W-well, I didn’t want to r-ruin the moment,” I say through chattering teeth. “But I think my vagina has frostbite.”
He chuckles and throws his arm around me as we walk to the house. “I’ve missed you, Cub.”
“I’m not kidding.” I smile up at him. “And I’ve missed you too.”
EPILOGUE
Lev
Four years later
I enter the apartment I share with Cub and laugh as I see her on a stepladder, paint roller in hand, wearing a pair of shorts so tiny they should be illegal, and a blue football jersey knotted at the waist with FOX printed across her shoulders and the number fourteen.
Fourteen for the years I’ve loved her, fourteen for the years I’d prayed she would be mine. Fourteen was also the number of victims attributed to Carl Eugene Watts, The Duisburg Man-Eater, The Vampire of Zagłębie, The Doodler, and The Monster of Florence.
What can I say? I’m sentimental like that.
I study the wall behind her. Really, it’s a wonder I can see anything else while she’s wearing those fucking shorts.
“Cub, what are you doing?”
She jumps, the ladder wobbles, and in two long strides I slam my body against hers, pinning her to the ladder and subsequently, the wall she’s just painted—albeit badly.
“Great. Now you’ve ruined it.”
I take the roller from her hands and toss it in the tray. Royal blue paint splatters over the parquetry floors. She turns in my arms. There are speckles of blue over her nose and cheeks, like she was dusted by a fucking Smurf.
“What the hell are you doing, Cub?”
“Painting the wall ‘Giant Blue.’ Duh.” She pouts.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Why?”
“Because I want to celebrate your win. I want you to see this wall morning, noon, and night, and know that you, Lev Fox, you got drafted to the New York Giants. Do you know how incredible that is?”
I grin down at her. “Pretty sure the constant ache in my muscles is reminder enough, but I appreciate the gesture.”
“Plus, it’s pretty close to the color of my eyes, right?”
“Mmhmm. Know what else this color resembles?”
She studies my face, and when I bend and kiss that tender spot on her neck that makes her knees weak, she moans. “Oh.”
“My balls.”
“Well, we can’t have my rock-star athlete boyfriend die from b
lue balls before he even makes the playoffs.”
“About that,” I say and pull the box from my back pocket. I’d considered doing this on the field, a spectacular display, just the way Scout would have predicted, but I don’t want to share this with the world. No. This moment belongs to us and us alone.
“I was thinking maybe we could ditch the boyfriend title for something a little more ... permanent?”
The corners of her mouth tip up in an uncertain smile as I drop to one knee and open the little white box.
An Asscher-cut diamond on a double-pavé band sits nestled into the velvet cushion. I picked it because it looks just like the bird’s eye view of her favorite place in the world—the Central Park Zoo. Or at least, the view we have of it from our 5th Avenue apartment, and yes, we have been back to see the snow leopard since that day four years ago, and I did give her a better experience than when I tore her heart out.
“Oh my God!” She presses one paint-covered hand to her gaping mouth.
“Scout Taylor, Cub, you had my heart and my respect from the second I met you. You lit up my whole world—still do. Everything I have, everything I am, is nothing without you. You’re already mine, you’ve always been mine, but will you do me the honor of becoming mine forever?”
She shakes her head, and I feel my face fall. “I don’t know what to say.”
“For the love of God, say yes.”
“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Oh, thank fuck!” I push the ring on her finger and stand to my full height. She jumps into my arms and I slide my hand beneath her ass and squeeze. I walk us toward the wall, and she shrieks when I push her up against the wet paint.
“Hey! You’re ruining my jersey and my paint job. I worked hard on that.”
“I’ll get you another, and no offense, Cub, but you should leave the painting to the professionals.”
“Actually, I was thinking if this whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out once I’m done with college, that I could have a career painting houses.”
“Don’t give up on your dream, Cub. I don’t need to share you with a bunch of hot and sweaty tradesmen.”
“Jealous?” she taunts in a whisper.
“Always, when it comes to you.” I sink my teeth into her neck. She cries out, and slips her hand between us to cup my dick. I unzip my fly and she pulls me free. Her shorts are threadbare and it only takes one solid rip to dissolve the crotch completely. She isn’t wearing any panties, so I slip inside. She groans, and I pound her tight little pussy into the living room wall, ignoring the paint, the fact that we’re right by the open windows of our apartment, shutting out the entire world while I make her mine. Just like I said I would. Just like I always knew she was.
Her kisses belong to me.
All of her kisses.
Forever.
Scout Taylor is mine.
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V is for Vixen, Vamp, Vexing, and Veronica—because I’m so NOT a Betty.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank all the incredible people involved in the process of bringing this bad boy to life, but it’s a long list so I’ll keep it short and sweet.
Lauren Clarke from Creating Ink, you and your team are incredible. This book would be a big pile of mush without your expertise. Thanks for your unwavering patience and support.
Ben from Tall Story, working with you on both my logo design and the covers for the Scarsdale Royals has been freaking awesome. Thank you for bringing my boys to life so beautifully.
To my betas—you know who you are—thank you so much for putting up with my neuroticism, for your time, and for all of your support. I love you all dearly.
To Kylie, Jo, and all the girls at Give Me Books, thank you for everything.
YOU ARE WONDERFUL!
To the reader, thank you for taking a chance on a new-to-you author. I hope you love this bunch of degenerates as much as I do, and that you’ll continue to follow the Scarsdale Royals throughout the rest of the series. I’m so excited to bring you more of these lovable, damaged misfits.