by Ivy Fox
“Not everyone is bad, Rome.”
“No, Elle. You mean not everyone is good. And Holland West is not good. Stay away from her.”
I pull back and look him in the eye, even though I have to crane my neck all the way back to do it.
“Rome, I love you. I really do, but sometimes you can be a real heartless prick. She’s a seventeen-year-old girl with Vivienne for a mother and a dead father. I think the world has played her for the villain all her life by giving her such a family. I’m not going to add to her baggage.”
He rolls his eyes, mimicking my go-to move when I hear bullshit.
“Murphy has put rainbow goggles on you if you’re spewing that load of crap,” he says, and instantly my defenses rise with the mention of the boy I love.
I open my mouth to take my big brother down a peg, but he holds on to my arms and gives me a little shake.
“Listen to me, Elle. That girl right there might look like an angel with her doe eyes and sad smile, but she’s not. It’s all a game to them.”
I cock my brow and stare him down.
“For someone who says she’s our enemy, you sure have paid a lot of attention to how she looks.”
He lets me go and scoffs.
“You are so damn stubborn.”
“I wonder where I got that from?” I tease him.
He shakes his head, dragging his hand through his dark hair.
“Elle, don’t do something stupid.”
“Stupid? You mean like be friends with Holland West?” I counter.
“Precisely.”
“Too late for that, big brother. She’s family now. Our sister and I are going to welcome her into the fold with open arms.”
He points the finger at me but then loses steam when I tilt my chin up, silently provoking him to go for it.
“You are incorrigible. You, more than the twins, will give me gray hairs way before my time.”
He shakes his head before stepping back up to me, clasping one hand in mine, with the other on my waist so we can continue our dance.
“Speaking of which, where are Asher and Oliver anyway? I haven’t seen them since the wedding.”
Rome sucks his teeth.
“You’re asking the wrong person. That question is better suited to the new member of our family.”
“You mean Vivienne?” I arch a brow.
“No, Elle. I mean the girl you’re so anxious to call sister.” He then looks over to Holland, his whiskey-colored eyes taking on a darker shade. “One thing I can assure you, Ollie and Ash will never call Holland that. And neither will I.”
Chapter 27
Chad
Junior Year
When Elle walks into Lace’s party, it’s like someone opened a window and brought light back into my life. It takes everything in me not to hug and kiss her senseless. Between me having gone off to Haiti and Elle away in the Hamptons, I was sure that once we both returned to Manhattan that we’d spend the remainder of our summer with each other. But that hasn’t been the case. Not on account of her father unexpectedly getting remarried and Elle gaining a new stepsister out of the deal. It wouldn’t be Elle if she didn’t try to make Holland as comfortable as possible in her new home and lavish her with attention.
I must admit, I’ve been envious.
I’m not used to spending so much time apart from Elle.
And honestly, I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
“I’m parched,” Elle shouts over the loud music after we’ve been dancing for an hour.
“Huh?” Holland stutters, looking preoccupied with something other than dancing.
“I said I’m going to get us something to drink. Do you want anything?”
“Water,” Holland croaks out with a meek smile. “Water’s good for me. Thanks.”
“Okay. Be back in a jiff,” Elle beams, but before she has time to leave, I gently squeeze her shoulder, thinking this is the perfect time for us to have a little alone time away from everyone.
“I’ll come with,” I interject, but then my heart sinks to my stomach when Elle throws a worried glance over to her stepsister, not liking the idea of leaving her alone, her amber eyes pleading with me to stay.
“Hey, wanna dance?” I hear Trevor ask Holland beside us.
Both Elle and I look at each other worriedly when Holland accepts.
“She’ll be fine. I doubt Trevor can do much harm with so many witnesses here,” I whisper in her ear as she continues to eyeball Trevor.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” she snarls, but in the end, she concedes. “Okay, Holland. I’ll be right back. Don’t try anything funny, Manning. I got my eyes on you,” Elle warns, giving Trevor yet another menacing stare.
Knowing this will probably be the only chance I’ll have to get her alone tonight, I pull Elle away by the hand before she changes her mind.
“We should really hurry back, Chad. I don’t like leaving Holland with that asshole.”
“And we will. But first, I want a proper homecoming hello.”
“Is that so?” She giggles, more relaxed than she was a second ago.
“Come here,” I growl, squeezing her hand in mine, taking her away from the dancefloor, and bypassing the kitchen entirely.
“Where are we going? Drinks are that way.”
“Just come with me.”
I look around the crowded house and find an empty, dark corner in one of the hallways, guaranteeing us some privacy. I gently lift her off the floor and sit her down on a console table, immediately wrapping my arms around her, my tense shoulders instantly relaxing in her embrace.
“I missed you,” I whisper in her ear, my head at the crook of her neck.
Elle’s body relaxes against mine as she runs her fingers through my hair. It’s the moment of peace I had been deprived of since school ended.
“I can see that,” she whispers hoarsely, making my cock harden with each stroke she gives my hair.
Elle is warm, soft, and inviting, setting my body aflame with such need that it makes it hard to think clearly. Deep down, I know I should pull away, but I can’t.
“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I thought you were having tons of fun in Haiti and then hanging around with Saint all summer.”
I pull back, my palms on her cheeks.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss the fuck out of you.”
A shy smile crests her lips, warming me from within.
“How much did you miss me?” Her amber eyes sparkle.
I know she feels the hardness of my cock against her belly.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes,” she whimpers.
My gaze falls to her luscious lips, and against my better judgment, I lean in and kiss them. My lips soak up all her light, all her warmth, and everything else she is willing to give to me. On a sigh, she opens her mouth, my tongue breaching her parted lips to devour her sweetness. All logic evaporates as she deepens the kiss, her need reflecting my own.
“Elle,” I croak breathlessly, kissing her neck, her cheek, her mouth, anywhere she’ll let me.
“Don’t stop,” she says, and right now, I’m too vulnerable to deny her.
When her hand lightly brushes up against my swollen cock, my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Elle,” I plead for mercy.
“Shh, Chad. It’s just me,” she coos, biting my neck.
Anyone could come down this hall at any minute, but right now, I don’t care if we get caught or not. I keep kissing her, my hands desperately roaming her body. She lets out a gasp when one hand falls to her breast, my thumb and index finger toying with her nipple until her breathing comes out in quick bursts.
“I want you to touch me,” she whimpers, annihilating whatever resistance I still had.
Slowly I lift up her skirt, my palms inc
hing up her thighs. My heart beats like a drum in my chest when I find her panties already wet for me.
“Touch me, Chad. Please,” she begs on a shallow breath, her nails digging into my scalp.
I wish I had a rope to tie her up and bind her by the wrists so I could have my way with her.
The image of Elle’s bound state in my mind only spurs me on, making me pull her panties to the side, groaning when my fingers touch her wet slit. My lips never detach themselves from hers as I toy with her sensitive nub, imagining it’s my tongue lapping at her juices.
I’m so caught up in the fantasy that I’m not prepared when her inquisitive hand pulls down my zipper, freeing my engorged cock from its confinement. When her attentive hand wraps around the base of my cock, I see stars.
“Fuck.” I groan, loving her small delicate hands on me.
I keep playing with her pussy as she begins to teasingly stroke me into oblivion.
“I want to feel you,” she whimpers again, her golden gaze a furnace of desire.
We’re both in so much pain.
Needing the release to remind us we’re only whole when we’re together.
“Put your feet on the edge of the table for me, Elle.”
My heart proudly thumps when she does as she’s ordered. I pull her closer to me, and when my steel rod finds her wet core, it takes inhuman effort not to breach her tight opening. I lift her ass off the console just enough so I can coordinate our little dance. I begin thrusting between her thighs, my cock rubbing against her soaking core, making sure the tip grazes over her sensitive clit. Her teeth slice into her knuckles, biting into them, so she doesn’t scream.
“Does that feel good?”
“Yes.” She sobs.
Just the smell of her arousal is creating havoc inside me.
“Are you going to cum, Elle? Rubbing your pussy against my cock?”
Her arms wrap around my neck, giving her the balance she needs to keep up with the excruciating tempo all on her own. With my hands now free, they sink into her waist, imagining myself pounding into her like I want to.
I’m so fucking close already.
So, fucking close.
“Chad… Chad…”
“Cum on me, Elle.”
Her mouth crashes into mine, a muffled cry leaving her lips as her whole body trembles in my arms. Unable to hold back another minute, I cum right along with her, seeking nirvana in her kiss.
This was reckless and impulsive, but the satisfied glow on her face makes it all worth it.
“I should go away more often,” the little vixen has the nerve to say.
I pick up her chin and kiss her with every bit of passion she just showed me.
“Don’t. Every day that I’m not with you feels like I’m half of myself.”
Her eyes go half-mast, softening at my admission.
She holds me tightly, my cum still dripping down her thighs.
And with that knowledge in mind, another forbidden image assaults me—one where Saint is on his haunches, licking her thighs clean as I watch—making me hard all over again.
Fuck.
Why does he always have to sneak into my head when I’m with her?
Why does she have to be so present in my mind when I’m with him?
“Chad? Are you alright?” she asks, the concern now ruining that perfect afterglow.
“Everything is fine. Just wondering if you have anything that I can use to clean you up.” I point to her thigh and my still leaking cock.
Her cheeks turn a beautiful scarlet red at the vestige of what we’ve just done. She opens her little purse, grabbing some baby wipes for me. I take them out of her hand, taking care of wiping her down first. Once I’ve tucked my cock away and fixed up her skirt, I place her back down on her feet and wrap her in my embrace.
“Welcome home, Elle.”
She lays her head on my chest, hugging me tightly.
“There is nowhere else I would rather be.”
I wish I could just keep her here in my arms and forget the world around us exists for a minute longer, but Elle’s protective nature puts a damper on those plans.
“I really need to get back and check up on Holland.”
I nod, both proud of her altruistic nature and disappointed in my selfish one.
My guilt only intensifies when we find Holland being torn to shreds by the very girl Elle and I warned her against earlier in the night in this very kitchen. Addison is airing out all of Holland’s dirty laundry in front of kids she will have to face come Monday morning when school starts. And by the way they are reacting to the knowledge of Holland being the late Craig West’s daughter, she isn’t going to be making friends any time soon.
The only one who stands up for the girl is none other than Elle herself—who goes up against Pembroke High’s queen bee and her mute older brother, Rome. Not wanting Elle to stay here a minute longer or risk her getting into a fight, I tell both girls that I’ll take them home pronto.
As we make our exit from the Manning’s clusterfuck of a party, I scan the place to see if I catch a glimpse of Saint to tell him I’m leaving. When I don’t find him, I send him a text, to which I get no reply.
I take both girls home, trying my best to cool Elle’s temper down the whole ride over. She’s not only disappointed in Rome and mad at Addison for going after her stepsister in such a way, but I can tell she feels responsible for what happened after leaving Holland all on her own.
And if she’s to blame, then so am I.
Shit.
I don’t know what came over me tonight.
The need to have Elle all to myself was overwhelming, and poor Holland paid the price for it.
But she’s not the only one hurt tonight by my actions.
It’s only when I get home that I’m able to check my phone to see if Saint has texted me back. But surprise, surprise, he hasn’t. He’s throwing a tantrum because I spent most of my night with Elle. It’s his way of reminding me of the choice I still refuse to make.
And again, for the millionth time tonight, a pang of guilt weighs down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Am I ever going to live a day where I’m not cowering under these intense feelings of culpability and shame?
Will there ever be a time in my life where all I’ll feel is liberated and free?
Or is that type of life not in the cards for me?
Are small stolen moments of joy all I have to look forward to?
These thoughts torment me all through the night, and it’s only when my phone rings beside me that I realize I must have dozed off.
When I answer it, a shaken Elle is on the other end of the line.
“What’s wrong?” I’m on high alert, worried sick something awful has happened.
“I need you.” She stammers between sobs.
“Where are you?”
“At Liberty General.”
“Are you hurt?! Elle, what’s wrong?” I ask, already grabbing my coat and car keys.
“It’s my father. He’s had an accident.”
Although there are tears in her voice, I know none of them are for him.
She’s crying because of the same gut-wrenching feelings I have been wrestling with for most of my life—guilt, and shame.
“I’m on my way, baby. I’m on my way.”
Because when Elle suffers, so do I.
Chapter 28
Saint
The fuck am I doing here?
I must be out of my fucking mind.
Those are the words running through my head as I walk within Liberty General’s bleak hospital corridors. Everything in my body tells me that I should turn around and leave, but instead, I find myself heading over to the nurse’s station to ask for directions.
“Are you family?” the nurse asks, eyeballing my neck tattoo once I tell her who I’m here to see.
“What do you think?” I arch a sarcastic brow.
<
br /> Do I fucking look like I’m in any way related to the Graysons?
Hell no.
Am I going to let that stop me from checking up on Princess?
Not a fucking chance.
“If you’re not family, we can’t let you in,” the no-nonsense nurse retorts when I don’t give her the reply she’s looking for.
“I’m his nephew. The black sheep of the family. Can’t you tell?”
She curls her lip in disbelief.
“Look, just give me a break, will ya? It’s my girl’s dad up there. I just need to make sure she’s okay.”
She continues to size me up but, in the end, tells me which floor Judge Grayson is on, pointing me to the elevator. As I make my way up, it dawns on me that the explanation I just gave for being here felt like the truth to me.
I mean, why am I here?
Elle didn’t call me to tell me what happened to her pops. She called Chad. He’s the one she wanted by her side. Not me. And why should she have called me? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. I’m no one to her, and she’s no one to me.
So why the fuck do I need to see her so badly?
When Boy Scout delivered the news today about her pops being in a coma over lunch, I wanted to punch a wall or break something. I hated the fact that I was the last to know what was happening in her life.
But then again, that’s probably on me.
If I hadn’t spent most of my weekend licking my wounds, then I might have known what was up.
But when Elle arrived at the Manning’s party, instead of welcoming her back from her summer vacation, I decided to be a total dick to her. And all because I was fucking jealous.
Jealous of her and jealous of him.
Chad looked at Elle that night in a way he has never looked at me. Like the sun had finally returned to him to cast out all the darkness in his life. It only served to remind me that I’m the black void in his perfect little world, the one he keeps hidden away in the shadows.
I hated her that night.
But I hated him more this afternoon.
They have something I can never touch, no matter how hard I try to weave myself in between them.