Queen of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  It’s not a comforting thought.

  “I trust my son has played the part of gracious host and made sure you have everything you could desire?”

  Ha!

  Gracious host indeed...

  It takes willpower to rein in the snort.

  “Yup.” I force another lie from my lips. I’m loath to ask anything of this man, but I have to at least try to appeal to his conscience.

  If he has one.

  “I hope you realize this wasn’t necessary.” When he quirks a brow, I rush to add, “Me living here. My parents weren’t trying to cheat you out of your share of Hawthorne Industries. All they wanted was a fair resolution to the situation that didn’t include forcing Kingsley and me into marriage.”

  He nods, a thoughtful expression flickering across his face. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve reached him and he’ll allow me to return home. He and my mother can straighten out the company business between themselves instead of tangling their children up in the mess.

  “I’m afraid, my dear, that your parents sealed your fate when they attempted to break the contract.” He steps closer, invading my personal space. “I’m sure you can understand that I had no choice in the matter. I won’t allow anything more to be stolen from my family.” He reaches out, trailing his knuckles along the curve of my jaw. “You, unfortunately, are nothing more than a pawn.” His pupils dilate. “Although, I have to admit that you’re a very pretty pawn. My son is a lucky man.”

  Fear slithers through me as my mouth turns cottony. Both his touch and words have me jerking away as if I’ve been burned.

  He smiles as his hand drops to his side. “Do not fret, Ms. Hawthorne, you’ll find living here quite palatable. Mrs. Fieber is an excellent cook. Dinner is always served promptly in the dining room at seven.”

  Before I can tell him to go to hell, he saunters away, leaving me alone in the echoing foyer. The breath rushes from my lungs as I tighten the strap of my backpack against my shoulder and race up the stairs, trying to remember the way to the bedroom. Maybe I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs this morning.

  It takes a few attempts before I finally stumble across the room that is now mine and slam the door shut before twisting the lock. Only then does the tightly coiled tension drain away, leaving me to feel weak in the knees.

  It’s so tempting to allow the tears to well in my eyes, but falling to pieces won’t solve a damn thing. I have to keep it together. I take my backpack and head to the balcony before settling at one of the small tables and spreading out my homework. For the next couple of hours, I plow my way through two missing calculus assignments from last week and then spend the rest of the evening studying for an AP psychology quiz.

  As submerged in my studies as I am, I can’t help but nervously eye the time on my phone. When seven o’clock comes and goes, the tension gradually seeps from my body. After Keaton mentioned the evening meal, I was afraid they might force me to dine with them. It’s doubtful I could deal with both Keaton and Kingsley at the same time. I’m barely able to handle them separately.

  Around eight o’clock, I pause and stretch my hunched muscles, glancing around the outdoor space. The balcony off my bedroom at home is cramped, but it was enough to have a tiny cafe-style table and two chairs. This deck stretches across the entire back of the mansion. About twenty feet away, I spot a telescope. Surprised by the discovery, I sit up a little straighter and study it from afar.

  Curiosity piqued, I rise from the chair and pad to where the object is set up by a stone baluster before running my fingers over the sleek black metal. Even though money isn’t an issue for the Rothchilds, this is an expensive model, designed for advanced astronomers. It looks shiny and brand new without a scratch on it.

  At no time in the past month has Kingsley ever mentioned an interest in the solar system. In fact, when we’ve been in the backyard, I’ve always gotten the distinct impression he didn’t know anything about astronomy.

  For a split second, I consider the possibility that Kingsley bought this for me before dismissing it with a bitter laugh. He’s gone out of his way to make it clear that he can’t stand the sight of me. If I had to guess, I’d say that his new mission in life is to make mine miserable. So far, he’s succeeding with flying colors. This kind of generous action doesn’t fit in with that modius operandi. So, obviously, it was here last night, and I overlooked it.

  It was dark.

  I was upset.

  It’s easily explained away.

  Unable to help myself, I remove the lens cap and gaze through the eyepiece. The sky isn’t nearly dark enough to see properly. I’ll return later this evening for a look. It’s the splash of water from below that has me straightening to my full height before peeking over the railing.

  My breath gets wedged in my throat when I find Kingsley arrowing from one end of the pool to the other. His muscular arms surge from the water as his feet propel him forward. The sinewy strength of his back flexes and shifts as he moves easily through the clear liquid. Even though there’s a distinct chill to the air, I imagine that his pool, much like our own, is heated.

  As he reaches the wall, he flips over gracefully before pushing off the tiled edge and shooting forward. My fingers bite into the stone railing as I watch him swim from one end to the other. There’s something captivating about his athletic prowess.

  He really is the perfect male specimen.

  Broad shoulders, powerful chest, and a tapered waist. Is it any wonder I fell so hard for the guy? The first time I saw him was like a punch to the gut. I don’t think I ever fully recovered from that.

  With him unaware of my perusal, I’m free to eat him up with my eyes. Even after everything that has happened between us, I find myself incapable of looking away. I’m mesmerized by the sight of him.

  Once he finishes with his laps, he rises to his feet in the shallow end. Water sluices off his half-naked body and my mouth turns bone-dry as I stare. The muscles of his biceps bunch as he raises his arms, plowing strong fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. His movements have my belly hollowing out. The attraction that pounds through me is undeniable. Much to my consternation, there isn’t a switch to flip off.

  It would be so much easier if there were.

  Before I can consider backing away and disappearing into the shadows, his face lifts, gaze skewering mine. A shiver of desire explodes in my core and I squeeze my thighs together to extinguish it.

  He remains still. We both do as the moment stretches and lengthens until sexual tension dances in the air. It would be one thing if it were only lust filling his eyes, but hatred and distrust flood through them. It’s the last two emotions that crack my heart wide open. Silently I back away from the railing, breaking the connection before gathering up my books and disappearing inside to the relative safety of my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It’s the scrape of sharp teeth against my aching clit that has a moan escaping from my mouth as I twist restlessly against the sheets. My fingers tunnel through thick hair, holding him in place as his tongue dances across my core. Pleasure suffuses every cell of my being as my body tightens, searching for release.

  “Please,” I whimper, arching against his seeking mouth.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  It’s those husky words that have me hurtling to the surface from what I assumed was a dream. My eyelids flutter open and in the shadowy darkness of the room, I realize Kingsley’s head is buried between my thighs. Unable to help myself, my fingers tighten around him, digging into his scalp. If I were thinking clearly, I would shove him away. But how can I do that when so much pleasure is crashing around inside me? Before I was even conscious, he stripped away all of my resistance.

  It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

  When it comes to Kingsley, I am totally and completely at his mercy.

  And he has none.

  Especially where I am concerned
.

  He drags the velvety softness of his tongue across my flesh and a thick shudder of ecstasy slides through me, pushing me to the edge of my sanity.

  His head rises until our gazes can collide before he nips at the plump flesh. “I asked you a question.”

  There’s no point in pretending. “You,” I admit. “I want you.” That, at the very least, is the truth. Under the cover of darkness, when my body is already splintering apart, our battle of wills no longer matters.

  As if pleased by the response, his tongue skates over my throbbing clit. I groan and widen my legs, allowing him more access. Where he’s concerned, I’m weak and pathetic. A slave to my hormones. Those thoughts are so disturbing that I do the only thing I can and shove them from my head, wanting to focus on the here and now. On the pleasure unfurling in my body. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to berate myself.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Yes,” I whimper as his tongue continues to lap at me, carefully stoking the ecstasy until it’s a raging inferno that threatens to scorch me from the inside out.

  “Admit that you like the way I touch you.”

  “You know I do.” As the truth slides from my lips, an orgasm explodes, and I scream out my release.

  Kingsley torments me until every drop of joy has been wrung from my body. Just as my muscles loosen, sinking into the mattress, he grabs my hips and flips me over before jerking me to my knees.

  With one large palm splayed at the center of my back, he drives deep inside my heat. I whimper as his other hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back. His hips jerk against my backside. Every thrust of his cock sends my eyes rolling inside my head. Even though I came moments ago, pleasure sparks to life for a second time.

  After the pain of the last week, this is the only thing that seems real. That makes me feel something other than grief, sorrow, frustration, and anger. When he’s filling me, forcing me to submit, I can forget about all of it and concentrate on the animalistic pleasure.

  His grip tightens on the length of my hair, and even though my scalp stings from the pressure, it only heightens the arousal pumping through me. Another orgasm, this one stronger, builds inside as he continues to thrust rhythmically.

  It doesn’t make sense for our bodies to be in such perfect synchronicity when we couldn’t be any further apart. When his muscles tighten, his movements becoming more frenzied, mine follow suit, matching every thrust with a parry. The long guttural groan that escapes from him forces me over the edge. My inner muscles clench around his thick cock, squeezing it as he slams into me before collapsing with a huff of breath that feathers against my back.

  For just a sliver of a moment, everything feels right between us. Instead of being leagues apart, his harsh breathing fills my ears. And just like our fucking, it feels as if we are in perfect harmony. As if we are two pieces of the same whole, finally coming together.

  With him buried inside me, his body covering mine, it feels as if we might find a middle ground and work through our issues.

  Is that even a possibility?

  Can he shelf his anger long enough to hear me out?

  To put himself in my shoes?

  It was never my intention to lie. I was put in an untenable position. One I couldn’t win. Either I betrayed Kingsley or my parents. Like everything regarding our relationship and family history, it’s complicated. When it comes down to it, Kingsley had a choice in the matter. He could have walked away from this arrangement. Instead, he chose to go through with it.

  He chose me.

  But I wasn’t given the same opportunity. It was—marry Kingsley or have the family company taken away and get buried alive under a mountain of debt.

  How is that any kind of choice?

  All I want is for him to see my side and cut me a little slack. He doesn’t need to forgive me or even agree, just understand.

  I moisten my lips. “Kingsley—”

  The sound of my voice shatters the fragile peace that had fallen over us. Silently he slides from my body, leaving me to feel empty and alone, before rolling from the bed. I bite my lip to keep from begging him to stay as he slips through the balcony door. Any hope filling me bursts like an over-inflated balloon, leaving nothing but despair and anguish in its place.

  Whatever Kingsley and I once shared, if it was ever real, is gone. The only thing I can do is pray that Mom finds a way out of this mess.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I’m jolted out of a dead sleep by the incessant buzzing of my alarm. One hand snakes out from beneath the down comforter to swipe my phone from the nightstand. It takes effort to focus on the small screen.

  What the hell?

  How is it half-past six?

  Normally, my alarm goes off at precisely six and that gives me enough time to jump into the shower and get ready for school.

  Fuck!

  With one swift motion, I toss off the covers and leap to my feet. As I do, a wave of nausea crashes over me. With a soft grunt, my hand flattens over my belly to still the sickness roiling inside.

  It doesn’t work. If anything, the illness only gets worse as I stumble to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time before everything from last evening makes an encore appearance in the white porcelain.

  Gross.

  Once my belly has been completely emptied, I spend the next ten minutes dry heaving until tears sting my eyes. I grip the toilet basin as if hanging on for dear life.

  Where the heck did that come from?

  My limbs weaken as I stay hunkered in place, focusing on my breathing. As one minute stretches into two, and my stomach doesn’t continue to revolt, I rise unsteadily to my feet before lurching toward the long stretch of marble countertop to run the faucet. With my hands, I rinse the acidic taste from my mouth before scrubbing my teeth. My gaze gets drawn to the reflection in the mirror.

  Sheesh. I look terrible. I’m pale and more drawn than normal. There’s a hollowed out look in my eyes.

  Is this stress or am I coming down with something?

  Like I need to deal with that on top of everything else.

  I splash a few handfuls of cold water on my face before drawing in a deep, calming breath. Once all my emotions have been locked down tight, I head to the bedroom to dress. As I’m pulling the tartan skirt over my hips, my phone flashes with an incoming text.

  I don’t have to glance at the screen to know who it’s from.

  Five minutes. Then I’m coming up.

  A growl of frustration builds in my throat. I’m tempted to hurtle my cell out the window. Unfortunately, destroying my electronic device won’t stop Kingsley from stalking up the stairs, tossing me over his shoulder, and carrying me kicking and screaming to the car.

  My guess is that he would probably get off on it.

  Not bothering to dignify the message with a response, I tuck my shirt into the loose-fitting skirt and pull up the socks before sliding my feet into chunky heels. Then I grab my backpack and head for the hallway. As I race through the second-floor gallery, I spot Kingsley lounging near the front door with his phone in hand.

  His head is bent, a wayward lock of mahogany-colored hair slides over his eyes. My heart spasms as longing bursts inside me. Those feelings only irritate me further. Whatever emotions he’s sparked to life, I want them gone. I want to feel nothing where this boy is concerned.

  When my phone chimes with a second text, I don’t bother to read it. Kingsley must hear the high-pitched sound as it echoes off the cavernous walls because his head jerks up. The way his gaze licks over me feels very much like a physical caress. One that heats me from the inside out. My breath stalls and I remind myself to exhale before descending the staircase. It would be an error in judgment to show him exactly how much he’s able to burrow beneath my skin.

  He grabs the same travel mug from yesterday off the credenza before passing it to me along with a peanut butter and chocolate protein bar. The aroma
of freshly ground arabica beans permeates the air and nausea explodes inside me again.

  Instead of reaching for the offering, I shake my head and take a step in retreat as if to distance myself from the overpowering scent. “No, thank you.”

  “You need to eat,” he says in a sharp tone. “You skipped dinner last night.”

  “Actually,” I shoot back, “I ate with my mom.” The mere thought of food is enough to make me nauseous. My belly spasms and I’m half-afraid I’ll throw up all over the polished-to-a-high-shine marble floor. If I don’t get out of here and into the fresh air, I won’t be held accountable for what happens next.

  “You look like shit,” he comments with a slight frown marring his handsome face.

  “Thanks.” I suck in an unsteady breath before forcing it out again. “If you’re finished sweet talking me, can we leave? I don’t want to be late.”

  He grunts in response as I stalk to the front door. I’m almost surprised when he doesn’t force the breakfast down my throat. Once outside, the chilly morning air slaps at my overheated cheeks, immediately settling something deep inside.

  In silence, I slide into the passenger seat as Kingsley starts the engine. Avoiding eye contact, I focus my attention on the greenery that passes by as he pulls out of the subdivision and onto the main road. What happened last night sits uncomfortably between us. Maybe it’s easy for him to turn off his emotions and screw, but it’s not like that for me. I can’t have him inside my body and not feel something for him.

  This is such a messed-up situation.

  One I have no idea how to navigate.

  As much as I want to discuss what happened, I refuse to broach the subject. I’m unwilling to risk being shut down for a second time. My pride has already been ground to a fine pulp beneath his heel. I can’t take much more.

  As we pull through the gate and onto school property, I clutch my bag, counting down the minutes until I can escape Kingsley’s presence. I need to get my head on straight and I can’t do that when forced to spend so much time with him. As he parks the Mustang and cuts the engine, I hoist my bag onto my lap and reach for the door handle.