by Angel Lawson
“I would have been terrified to do that.”
“You? Scared?” I wipe my nail under the edge of his to clean off where it smeared.
“Hell yes. Flirting with you, in my own way, was one thing. Admitting it to you? I couldn’t take the rejection.”
“How do you know I would have rejected you?” I ask, challenging him.
“Because I know you—or knew you. We weren’t ready yet.”
“When did you know you were ready?” Even if he chickened out and never asked me to the dance and the prank with Rose happened and we’d all stopped talking, he claims he liked me back then. I want to know.
He runs his palms over my thighs, taking care not to mess up the paint.
“I started having fantasies about you,” he says truthfully.
“Fantasies?” I know my eyes are bugged out. “What about?”
“I had this whole thing worked out. I’d be in my room. And you’d be in your room. And you’d start to undress, forgetting to close your shade. Or at least you pretended to forget, really, you wanted me to see. You’d take off your shirt, then your bra, and in my fantasy, you’d look over, letting me know that you knew I was there.” He swallows. “Then you’d wave me over and we’d both come out on the roofs and kiss.”
“Like—I’d go out there without a shirt on and kiss you floating in the air?” I can’t help but laugh. “That’s not only impractical, it’s physically impossible.”
He shakes his head, but I see the pink tint of his ears and it’s freaking adorable.
“So, you had sexy girl next door fantasies about me.”
“Hell yeah, I did,” he says, squeezing my thigh. “You were the sexiest girl next door ever. Still are.”
“So would you, you know,” I look down between his legs, “get excited thinking about it?”
“About you shirtless and flying? Hard as a fucking rock.” That pleases me more than it should. His eyes flick over me like he knows it. “I spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what you were doing behind those closed shades.”
“Doing what?”
I want him to say it.
“Jerking off.”
“To me.”
“Yep.”
It makes me hot just thinking about it, like warm and damp between my legs. And one look between his legs tells me he’s turned on, too.
“Show me,” I say.
“You want me to…”
“Yes.”
Finn’s quite possibly the most secure person I know. Smart. Strong. Athletic. Skilled. But at this moment, he looks a little hesitant.
“You think this is something I can’t handle?” I ask, standing up and walking over to double check that my door is locked. It is. I turn off the overhead light and leave on the small lamp by the bed. “I’ve had your cock in my mouth.”
He chuckles and reaches for me, kissing me as I sit back on the floor. His hand dips under his sweatpants. A second later he reaches for his waistband and I say, “Wait!”
His eyes widen, self-doubt flickering across his face.
“I just want to make sure your nails are dry.” I take his hand and check. “I don’t think nail polish remover on such a sensitive part of your body would be a good idea.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he says with a chuckle.
“Just pragmatic.” I release his hands. “You’re all good.”
Our eyes meet and we’re back in the moment. He pulls his cock out, already hard, and strokes the length.
My heart skips a beat, strangely enthralled, and I lean back against the bed, watching him.
His movements are different than how I’d pleasure him. He has his own rhythm. Long and loose, thumb grazing the tip. I watch as it swells in his hand, turning a hot, dark pink. Finn’s eyes are hooded, and he asks, “You okay with this?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, then down to my chest, and he starts moving a little faster. I feel a pulse quicken down my panties. I’m turned on just watching him, seeing the long muscle in his forearm tense as he handles and teases his cock.
I’m surprised when he shifts, lowering his sweats and pulling out his balls. He cups and rolls them, jaw tightening as he brings himself closer. Something about the move encourages me, spurs me on and I lean back, dipping my own fingers beneath my panties. Finn’s eyes flick down to my hand and he lets out a low moan, before saying, “Babe,” under his breath.
I’m already wet. Throbbing. I roll the hot nub of my clit between my fingers and a shiver runs down my spine. My nipples pebble and I take my free hand and tug at the puckered flesh. Finn’s green eyes lock with mine and I’m startled by the hot, hungry desire in them.
“I can’t do this,” he mutters, dropping his cock and lunging for me.
“Fuck me,” I tell him, body aching, wanting.
He picks me up and tosses me on the bed, flat on my stomach.
“Fuck,” he mutters. I look back. “What?”
“Condom?”
I crawl forward and yank open the bedside drawer. I feel his eyes on my backside as I struggle with the box and tearing one free. I get one loose and toss it back.
“You are pragmatic.”
With two hands he tears off my panties, yanking them down my legs before gripping my ass and lifting it in the air. My belly drops and I scramble to my knees, hands planted by my pillow. I rock back, feeling his hard length run between my legs. He feels good, slippery and wet, and it hurts when he stops to roll on the condom. Soon he’s back, and I push back against him and this time he presses against me, then fills me up. I groan softly, finally fulfilled. He doesn’t hesitate, thrusting forward with a quick, steady pace, both of us already on the damned edge.
Finn rocks into me, pounding out a rhythm. I’m thankful that my bed is on the opposite side of the house from my parents, because neither of us are in a place of self-control. He holds onto my hips, pulling and pushing, in and out. His hand grabs my tit and I buck forward, feeling the wave cresting over me. I’m caught in my own head, my own body, so deep that the deep rumble in his chest is my signal that he’s about to come. He fills me and holds me, skin sticky, bodies twitching.
I’m still rocking, coming down from the high, when I feel him kissing me across my shoulders and down my spine. Slowly he pulls out and mutters a cuss. He darts across the room to my bathroom. I place a foot on the ground, not sure I can stand without wobbling. I do and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Hair wild, cheeks red, sticky cum sliding down my inner thigh.
One word flits through my mind.
Claimed.
I like what I see. Who I am. The strength and boldness.
Kenley Keene, not weak. Not afraid.
Whole.
28
Finn
I reach over my shoulder and rub the sore muscles in my neck. Sleeping on Kenley’s chair isn’t the most uncomfortable place I’ve slept—but it’s not the best. I’m too tall and after three nights, I’m not sure if my back will ever settle back in place.
Some of that could have come from the fucking, though.
Jesus.
That whole thing had been entirely unexpected. Fantastic. But unexpected. My girl is a freak and I love it.
“I told you to go home,” she says from across the aisle in Lit. Class hasn’t started yet.
“I’m fine.”
She rolls her eyes, then turns to shoot Ezra a glare. “I’m blaming you for this.”
“What’d I do?” he says, then snaps his mouth shut, clearly forgetting he isn’t speaking to her, or really any of us, right now.
“You got him all worried.”
“Justifiably,” Ozzy adds. “We all feel safer with Finn there right now.”
Kenley frowns and faces forward, ignoring all of us. Ezra catches my eye, and I see the appreciation in them. I understand he’s in a tight spot right now, caught somewhere between his father and keeping Kenley safe. He has to be cautious—at least for now.
/> Mrs. Gimple walks in, carrying her usual stack of papers and books, this time accented with a few gift bags. For some inexplicable reason, our teachers aren’t just satisfied with final exams, but they piled on homework the last week of school as well. This added to the general sense of frenzy—Christmas break around the corner. Secret Santa gifts left on desks or tucked into lockers. Ugly sweaters, silly socks, and a million other distractions come at us. The good news is that I think even Kenley has been too busy to think about the conversation she and Ezra overheard between Mr. Baxter and Regina Waller. It may be the first time I’ve been happy for exams.
But, I think, as Mrs. Gimple grabs her marker and heads to the whiteboard, I’ll be happy when this day is over. I can almost taste Christmas break, it’s so close.
“Okay, class,” she says, right as the intercom squeals. She sighs and looks up at the speaker.
“Teachers, please turn on your screens for final announcements,” Mr. Russell directs. Mrs. Gimple turns on the screen and the student news room comes into view. Juliette appears on screen. She’s wearing her purple sparkle Santa hat and a wide smile.
“Seniors—here’s the final update for the retreat. It’s happening next week! Right after Christmas! Packing lists have been posted on ChattySnap, along with room assignments and details about chaperones. Don’t forget to bring something dressy for the New Year’s Eve party.” She narrows her eyes at the screen. “Boys—that means you. No dirty T-shirts. Pack something nice. We leave at seven a.m. Don’t be late!”
With everything going on, I’m excited to go on this trip. A little rest and relaxation is something we all need—something, after the last four months, we all deserve. Especially Kenley.
After the exam, Ezra takes off, but Ozzy and I walk down the hall with her to her locker.
“Since that’s the last exam, do you want to take off for the rest of the afternoon?” I ask as she spins her lock.
“Ozzy and I have to do this Secret Santa for Valhalla,” she says, “but maybe we can meet after that?”
I nod. “I could try to get Ezra to hang out.”
“That would be nice.”
Her locker door opens, and an envelope falls to the floor. Kenley beats Ozzy, bending over to pick it up. She pauses halfway up.
“Kenley?” Ozzy asks.
She stares down at the envelope—at the writing across the front.
“What does that say?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
The name Eden is scrawled across the front.
“Give it to me,” I demand, but she holds it tight in her hands. Ozzy glances around. The hallway is packed—and more energetic than usual. Everyone is excited about the holidays. No one is watching us. “Kenley.”
She runs her finger under the flap, slowly taking out the card. It’s basic—a tree with the words Happy Holidays across the bottom. She opens it up and the inside inscription says, “Merry Christmas, Princess.”
Behind the card is another piece of paper—a photo. Hot anger boils under my skin. It’s an image of Kenley sitting on a bed.
“Is that your bed?” Ozzy asks.
She shakes her head. “No.”
It’s a different bedspread—different pillows. It’s too small. Even so, it looks familiar.
“Oh my god.”
“What?” I ask, my mouth dry.
“That’s the bedroom at the apartment—the East Point suites,” she whispers. “There was a camera on me—on us—the whole time.”
29
Kenley
I don’t think I would’ve made it through the Secret Santa exchange without Ozzy. Seeing that picture of myself in the apartment. Sitting on what I assume was Rose’s bed…the cold chill that iced over my veins still hasn’t thawed when we leave the school.
“We need to go to Chief McMichael,” Ozzy says. “We have to report this.”
“I need to go home.”
“Why?” Finn asks from the back seat.
I know what I’m going to do. What I should have done weeks ago. “I’m going home to get the rest of the evidence I have on BD, and yes, we can take it to the police. There’s a lot more than just that photo.”
Ozzy exhales with relief and reaches across the middle of the car to squeeze my leg. Finn also looks relieved.
It’s hard to admit that I waited so long on this. Alice was right, my obsession with Rose needed to stop. She’s gone, either dead or willingly gone to get away from the crazy secret life she was leading. She didn’t want me involved when she was here. She wouldn’t want me involved now.
Yet here I am, deeper than ever before. It’s ruined my relationship with Ezra. It’s put all of us at risk. I park the car in the driveway and head upstairs, Ozzy and Finn at my heels. I go straight to my bedside table. It’s time to turn over Rose’s iPod. I open the drawer and feel around. My fingers catch the charging cable and I pull it out. It’s loose—no device on the other side. I peer inside.
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?” Ozzy asks.
“The iPod. It’s how I contacted BD.”
I peer around my room. When did I last have it? It’s been weeks, I knew that. Was I at my desk? Did I forget to put it back up?
I rummage around my desk—messy as always—but it’s not there, either.
“Kenley?” Finn says, voice concerned.
“I always kept it in that drawer. Fuck,” I mutter, “did my mom find it? Shit, shit, shit… if she opens that app, I’m screwed.”
“Tell me where to look,” Ozzy says, but I ignore him, dropping in my desk chair.
I quickly open my laptop and search for the SugarBabies page. My fingers fumble as I type in the password. Denied.
I try again, retyping slower. Once again it’s denied.
“What the hell?”
Ozzy steps next to me. “You’re freaking out. Slow down. It’s probably just the wrong password. It happens.”
I move over, letting him take the seat. “Passwords are the bane of my existence. They love to say you’re wrong when you know you’re not wrong. I resubmit and go through the process all over again.”
“It’s saying there’s no account for your Eden name.”
I lean over him and enter in the details for Rose’s Rosemary’s Baby account.
“What the fuck?”
It’s inactive, too.
“It makes no sense.” I look over at Finn. He’s sitting in the chair he’s slept on for the last week. “No one knew about my account. No one, not even you guys, until recently.” I stare at the website and make the quick decision. “Open a new account.”
“Kenley you need to calm down,” Ozzy says. “What’s a new account going to do?”
“I need to see if BD still has an account.”
The boys share a look—one that says they think I’ve gone too far. Maybe I have. Maybe I’m losing my mind.
“Move,” I say, pushing Ozzy out of my way. I enter in the details.
“This feels like it’s out of hand. Let’s just take what we have to McMichael and let him handle it.”
I ignore him and a few minutes later, get the confirmation for my new account. “I just want to see if he’s still on here.”
“Why?” Finn asks.
Why? To make sure I didn’t fabricate all of this. That I’m not losing my mind. But a quick search proves nothing. It’s like he was never on there. Like Rosemary’s Baby never existed and well, same for my Eden account.
“Someone came in my room, stole the iPod, and deleted the accounts. It wasn’t my parents. And it wasn’t you.” I say, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“This doesn’t make sense, Ken,” Ozzy says.
I spin in my chair, carefully looking around my room. Did they take anything else?
The Eden book is still in my bookshelf. I get out my phone and double check that the keycard is still tucked in the case.
My eyes land on my dresser. I walk across the room and open the top drawer. I
feel around in the back for the box I’d hidden. A tremor runs up my spine, and I pull out the drawer and dump it on the floor. Socks and leggings fall in a pile. No box.
“Where is it?” I whisper. Finn stands, forehead creased with worry.
A wave of nausea rolls through me and I run to the bathroom, managing to make it to the toilet before I vomit.
The lingerie is gone.
The iPod is gone.
The accounts are gone.
Someone is covering their tracks.
Or, trying to make me think that I’m crazy.
They’re definitely scaring the hell out of me.
30
Kenley
“Babe,” Finn says, rubbing his hand over my back, “how do you want to handle this?”
“There’s no evidence to take to McMichael.”
“We still have the photo,” Ozzy says.
“Which is proof that I broke into an apartment.” I rub my arms. The level of violation I feel…“Jesus.”
“We should go to Ezra’s,” Finn says.
“Why? So he can reject me again?” Hot tears prick at my eyes. “I can’t handle anything else today.”
“No.” Finn wraps his arms around my waist. “Because he needs to know what’s going on. And we need to stick together.”
Ozzy nods in agreement. “He’s keeping away from you to protect you. But obviously, it’s not working.”
“Okay,” I agree. “But fair warning, I can’t take much more.”
Twinkling Christmas lights greet us at Ezra’s, and I’m surprised to see that it’s decorated for the holidays. I have to assume that his housekeeper or someone they paid put them up. A different sort of nausea builds as we wait at the front door. What if he turns us away?
Ozzy threads his fingers through mine, giving me something to cling to when Ezra opens the door. His gaze sweeps over us. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” Finn says. “It’s important.”
He looks at me, concern flickering in his dark eyes. Self-consciously I brush aside my hair, knowing I look like a hot mess.
