In Control (The City Series)

by Crystal Serowka

  Copyright © 2013 by Crystal Serowka

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Angie Fields, i love it design studio

  Editor: Wise Owl Editing

  Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at www.facebook.com/AuthorCrystalSerowka

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Bitch. Whore. Slut. Those were just a few of the names I’d been called since I began growing breasts. The boys all stared, gawking at the exposed skin above my navel. Their eyes followed the length of my bare legs, expressing their desire with a smile in my direction. No matter how hard they tried at getting my attention, boys were never my thing.

  They were fragile.

  Inexperienced.

  Full of hope.

  Girls were envious of my beauty. They disguised their jealousy by taunting me, laughing and pointing when I hopped into different cars after school. They never understood why I did the things I did, why I made it my mission in life to seduce men and then toss them aside like yesterday’s garbage. Instead of trying to understand, they chose to spread shameless rumors.

  These girls never got under my skin like they were hoping they would. I loved the attention. In fact, I loved it so much that I started going after their boyfriends. They had no idea that whatever name they called me, whatever they wrote on my locker, it wasn’t ever going to bother me. I had been shattered a long time ago, and the shards of my former self were so sharp, nothing else could ever harm me.

  I’d been thrown away; kicked to the curb like a stray mongrel no one wanted. I’d let my guard down too many times to count and promised myself that I’d never be vulnerable again.

  I was never any good at keeping promises.

  His lips touched my neck, bringing me back to the moment. Wren lay next to me, his skin melting against mine. A drop of sweat fell onto my lips and I tasted the saltiness of our exertion. I’d been in this bed so many times now that I knew the softest spots on the mattress. I’d memorized the smell of Wren’s pillow, the delicate fabric bursting with the scent of cedar and vanilla. It was October when I first visited his home, and now, with the trees dressed in bright green, I lay here in his bed, my head and heart at odds. I wanted to let myself fall for Wren, but the one time I had allowed my heart the freedom to feel, I was betrayed. I wasn’t sure I was ready to give my heart away.

  Again.

  I studied his bare chest, my fingers roaming over the patches of freckles.

  “Making constellations again?” he asked, resting on his elbows to watch my busy fingers.

  “Just Perseus.”

  “You’re the first person that’s ever pointed that out.”

  “That’s probably because all of your other girlfriends were dumb as rocks and didn’t know a thing about constellations,” I retorted.

  Wren laughed quietly, not denying my words. We’d only discussed exes once before. He knew of Porter, but not everything that he was to me. Explaining Porter to someone who’s the complete opposite of him would be an impossible task.

  We lay in silence, my fingers not wanting to leave his skin. We’d been in Wren’s bed since this morning, and I could have stayed wrapped in his embrace forever. Tangled in his blood red sheets, I was safe from the evil that lurked outside. In this bed, I couldn’t run into anyone from my past.

  “Think we should get up? We can grab some food before I head to Jay’s.” Wren turned on his side, his fingers leisurely roaming my skin. His effortless touch made my insides tremble, forcing me to take a few calming breaths.

  I hated leaving him. I hated that I was slowly becoming one of those girls. The kind of girl that had nothing else to talk about but the guy they were dating. The kind that became so obsessed with her boyfriend that she scheduled her whole life around him. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I couldn’t possibly be turning into one.

  “You already had me for breakfast and lunch; might as well fill up on me for dinner, too,” I suggested, knowing it would keep him from leaving.

  A devious grin formed on Wren’s lips. “Suddenly I’m starving.”

  In a matter of seconds, he was on top of me, trapping my arms and legs with his own. Typically, I liked being in control, but once in a while it was fun to act helpless.

  “You’ve got me pinned. Now what?” I fixed my eyes on his, concentrating on the chills that were shooting through my body.

  His eyes met mine only for a moment before traveling to our linked fingers. His grasp tightened, bringing our hands above my head. Wren’s jaw set and I knew my submissiveness had turned him on. He leaned down near my ear and whispered, “Now I fuck you so hard you forget your name.”

  I exhaled, waiting for him to make his move. Wren began teasing me, his fingers exploring the curves of my body, making a point not to touch me anywhere that would put me over the edge. He caressed my upper thigh slowly, then the back of my knee. His tongue grazed my earlobe and my stomach clenched in anticipation, craving so much more than what he was giving.

  “Fuck me already,” I demanded.

  “No.”

  It wasn’t just his calm and collected answer that almost drove me to the edge. It was in his featherweight kisses, his fingers sweeping curls from my face, and the way he blinked slowly as he took me in. I exhaled again, anxiously waiting to see which part of my body he’d set on fire first.

  “Spread your legs,” he whispered, his breath teasing my earlobe.

  I quickly conceded and felt the softness of his fingers stroke the inside of my thigh. Between the motion of his hand and knowing what was coming next, I was ready for him. Two fingers gently slid inside of me and our eyes locked together, filling me with a hunger I’d only experienced with him. From the very first night, Wren had instinctively known the most sensitive parts of my body. He understood it better than anyone ever had, and just knowing that his fingerprints were left on my skin made me feel as if I’d won.

  “Please tell me this isn’t all I’m getting?” The edge in my voice made him remove his hands from my skin.

  “Keep talking, Kingsley, and this is all you’ll be getting.”

  It took everyt
hing in me to bite my tongue, swallowing my snappy comeback.

  “Good girl.” He pulled me onto his lap and the rough hair on his jaw grated against my shoulder, leaving a pleasing sting in its wake. “Put your legs around me,” he ordered.

  I obeyed and his fingers knotted through my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck to his lips. Wren’s tongue trailed the skin of my throat, slowly moving toward my ear.

  “Plan’s changed. Now you’re going to fuck me.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  Without answering my question, Wren pulled my face to his, forcing his tongue inside my mouth. I sat up on my knees and guided him inside me, watching as his placid expression disappeared. He cupped my ass, pushing our bodies closer together, filling me even more. I yelled out his name like we were the only two people left in the world.

  “Fuck, Kingsley,” he groaned.

  Leaning back on my hands, I began to move my hips along to a silent beat in my head. Back and forth. Up and down. I bit down on my bottom lip with enough force that a small trickle of blood seeped into my mouth, leaving behind the faint taste of salt and metal.

  Wren pulled me back into his chest, our bodies trembling from head to toe. It was in those last few seconds, when every nerve ending in my body felt like it was going to explode, that I felt closest to him.

  My heart was beating fiercely, and as I rolled off onto my side, I felt the cool mattress beneath me tremble with its force. Wren’s hand found mine in the rustled sheets, squeezing it twice. The comfortable silence we shared was a new experience for me. I studied his shadowed profile, the perfect slope of his nose, his lips half-parted and exhaling short breaths. He had cheekbones that were so high, even I was envious. But his eyes were my favorite part, dark and tempting. They reminded me of the rich chocolate cake I always longed to taste, of whiskey on the rocks. His eyes expressed his feelings even before he had a chance to say them out loud.

  “K,” he turned on his side to look at me, “can I talk to you about something?”

  “Is it going to ruin the moment?”

  “Depends on your answer.”

  “Go for it,” I warily replied.

  He sat up, clearing his throat as if he were about to make a long speech. I had no idea what he was going to say, but I had a feeling it was going to change everything. Wren and I hadn’t outwardly declared our feelings for each other, though sometimes when he looked at me, his eyes screamed the three words I never wanted to hear again.

  The last time I had heard those words, I believed them. My heart sputtered against my chest. It wanted what it couldn’t have. There was no way I’d ever allow those words to pass my lips again.

  “Will you come to the Hamptons with me?”

  As soon as the question left Wren’s mouth, my lips immediately formed the answer that would make his day. I forced my mouth to close, practically choking on the three-letter word. I couldn’t say yes. Accepting Wren’s invitation meant finally admitting to myself that I was serious about someone. It meant turning off my bright, neon vacancy sign and sleeping with both eyes closed.

  It meant I was ready to give my heart away.

  I reached for his hand, my fingers caressing the black, inked letters on his knuckles. Wren displayed the word love proudly, whereas I could barely mutter it.

  “Say something. Give me an answer. Please?”

  “I-I can’t,” I faltered. “I’m supposed to spend some time with Trish. Visit London. Learn how to be British or some shit like that.” My brain commanded my mouth to shut up, but the message got lost in translation.

  “You can’t or you won’t?” Wren pulled his hand from my grasp, folding his arms in his lap. His tone went from hopeful to bitter in seconds.

  “You know I would go if I could.”

  “What I know is that you’re lying to me and yourself,” he said harshly, rolling out of bed and walking to the far corner of his room, disappearing into his massive closet.

  My lies were wrapped in cellophane, and he could easily see through each and every one of them. I fixed my gaze onto the vaulted ceiling, my eyes focusing on the blades of the fan. I began counting the number of times it spun around. One, two, three...

  Wren stood at the foot of the bed, dressed in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants. Each of his arms were covered in tattoos. Vibrant blues, purples, and greens wrapped around his sun-kissed skin. His face showed no sign of emotion as he stared down at me.

  “You don’t give a shit that I’m pissed, do you?”

  I focused on the single black swallow tattooed on Wren’s chest, its wings spread as if it were ready to fly away. At that moment, I wished I had a set of my own.

  I looked into his sad eyes and fabricated the reasons behind my answer. “It’s not like I’d be missing much. Drunk girls and guys groping each other on the beach. Rich housewives gawking at the young boys they can’t have no matter how much plastic surgery they pay for. It’s just not my thing, plus I don’t want to let Trish down.”

  I was lying about London. Trish mentioned the idea months ago, but we hadn’t discussed it since then. If faking an overseas vacation would get me out of going to the Hamptons, then so be it.

  “You’re lying to me, but fine. Go to London.”

  He said London in air quotes, and I could feel my bones shaking under my skin. Wren had to understand that I couldn’t say yes. He had to know that I wanted to, I just couldn’t.

  I rolled my eyes and lied through my teeth. “Thank you. I will.”

  “You know what, Kingsley? Forget I ever fucking asked you!” Wren yelled, stalking off to his living room and slamming the bedroom door on his exit.

  I reluctantly climbed out of bed and pulled on my thong and tank top, then strutted out to the living room with the sweetest smile I could muster. If this seduction tactic didn’t work, I’d have to start questioning my abilities.

  “Wren!” I called out sweetly. I turned the corner to see him sitting on his black, leather couch, a book in his lap. “Are you seriously ignoring me?” I made my way around the leather sectional and stood in front of him with my hands on my hips. I was barely clothed, so I doubted the cold shoulder act would last long.

  “I’m tired of your bullshit, Kingsley. We’ve been doing this thing, whatever the hell you want to call it, for nine months now, and anytime a serious discussion is on the horizon, you get all cold and distant,” Wren said, continuing to study the words on the page.

  “You knew what you were getting into the moment you fucked me. It was obvious I wasn’t going to be the type to fawn all over you every second of the day.” My voice rose. “I’m not a serious discussion kind of girl, got that?” Anger surged in the pit of my stomach. I could hear the front door screaming my name.

  Wren threw the book down on the coffee table, the glass shaking from its weight. When he stood, his face was nearly touching mine. “You think I don’t know what the hell I was getting into when I met you? I knew I’d be putting myself out there. Maybe it’s fucked up that I continue to deal with it, but that’s what I’m doing because I care about you! Can you honestly tell me I’m not what you want? Because if that’s the case, then maybe I’ve been wasting my time.”

  I backed away from him, shaking my head vigorously, hoping that it would erase the screaming thoughts that were commanding me to confess my feelings. I quickly walked into his bedroom, his footsteps trailing behind me.

  “Oh, look at that—she’s running away from the problem.” His voice was growing deeper the angrier he became.

  I threw on my pants and walked to his nightstand, grabbing my phone and purse.

  “Talk to me!” he demanded. Wren grabbed my entire body, swinging me around to face him. “Admit it! I don’t know what you’re afraid of, but please, just admit that this,” his hand motioned between our bodies, “has turned into way more than just fucking.”

  I was ready to explode with anger. It was only fucking. That’s all that I’d ever allow it to be. I was so ma
d at myself for blurring the lines I’d drawn. From the very beginning I wasn’t going to get close, but now it was all I wanted. Wanting had always let me down. I’d wanted a family. I’d wanted to erase my past. These things I’d wanted were all permanently sketched on my skin and in my heart, so there was no way I could make the mistake of wanting something ever again.

  “Don’t ever grab me like I’m your property!” I exploded. “Get your fucking hands off me!” I pushed Wren away and heard his body hit the wall. “Have fun in the Hamptons!”

  I walked as fast as I could to the front door, listening as he called my name over and over. The pain in his voice was so evident, I could practically feel it in my own bones. Before turning the doorknob, I pivoted back around, glancing at the walls that encased my happiness. For just a second, I allowed my eyes to drown.

  Quit it! Quit it! Quit it! Four tiny fists were banging on the bathroom door, demanding me to hurry up. This spot, the cold tile underneath me, was the only place I could find solace. Every morning I had ten minutes to myself. Four minutes to shower. Three minutes to brush my hair and pull it into a bun. Three minutes to brush my teeth and get dressed. Within those minutes, I’d make myself presentable. I’d wear a smile that imitated hot, sunny days and glasses of sweet tea. It was hard to fake a happiness that I’d never felt, but I couldn’t reveal my secrets to anyone.

  My classmates thought of me as the quiet girl that always had her nose in her notebook. My teachers sensed I was troubled, but none of them ever asked about my personal life. By flying under the radar, no one had any clue how sad I actually was.

  I sat up, wiped my tears away, and opened the door like I did every morning for the past two years. My bare feet padded down the carpeted steps, taking each one slowly, not wanting to walk into the kitchen any earlier than I had to. It was happening already. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson were raising their voices, arguing about how they were going to pay the bills.

  “We have mouths to feed in this home! How do you expect me to do that if you’re cutting work every other day to gamble?” Mrs. Henderson exploded.