by Emily Snow
“Mom doesn’t seem to notice what I do in my spare time, and you’re never here.”
Dad grunts, and I can picture the pissed off look he’s giving me from thousands of miles away. He hadn’t given a fuck about my suspension from school. “Your grades are excellent, why the fuck would they suspend you for attendance?” were his exact words when I approached him with the truth: I spent the majority of the year avoiding the physical act of going to class in favor of partying and bullshit.
But me leaving for North Carolina had never been a part of his agenda, so why should he care?
For once in my life, I defied Delaney tradition by choosing Duke over Harvard. My grandfather, Dad, and all my uncles went. Even my older brother, Cain, attended Harvard for a year before telling my parents to suck his dick and taking off to work as a bartender in California. My decision to go to Duke was a big disappointment, so my father welcomed my suspension. Then, when none of the favors he called in to get me into his alma mater for the upcoming semester worked, he offered me a position shadowing him for four months while I waited.
He gave me the happy news a few nights ago, as a nineteenth birthday present.
“Working for me is better experience than any degree would offer you,” he snaps. “Do you know how many young men would kill for this opportunity?”
He just opened Pandora’s Box with that one. I swing the fridge open and grab a bottle of water. “Then maybe I shouldn’t go back to school at all.”
“Don’t be a goddamn fool.”
Twisting the top off my water, I take a big gulp. “I can always enroll in community college.”
“That’s not an option.” He pauses for a moment, and there’s a scratchy noise like he’s covering the mouthpiece. He’s gone for so long, I have time to polish off my water. When he comes back on the line, he says, “Your mother says hello.”
“She’s listening in?”
“We’re on a layover in Frankfurt. Of course, she’s listening.”
I scrunch the empty plastic bottle into a ball and toss it on the counter. It lands by the flowers, tugging my attention to the letter of temporary employment Dad gave me. “So much for a private conversation,” I say, thinning my lips angrily. I love my mother—fuck, I hate myself for loving someone who rarely gives me the time of day—but she won’t let this go now that she knows what’s going on. “I thought you said you weren’t going to mention the offer to her.”
“I changed my mind.” That clenches my jaw because we heard it many times growing up. If there was one thing my father was good at—other than real estate transactions and making money—it was changing his mind. It happened with just about every “family” vacation, school event, and everything in between. “Think about it and get back to me by Monday.”
By Monday. That’s tomorrow. “Or?” There’s usually an or with Erik Delaney, and sure enough, I hear his shark-like sneer when he answers me.
“I’ll have my assistant help you search for an apartment. You’ll need a job for that, of course, since you’ve got another two years before you come into your trust.”
There it is again, dangling money over my head like I’m a goddamn zoo animal. “Got it. Thanks.”
A soft murmur coming from the direction of the hallway snaps my attention from my father. Vero. Talking in her sleep again. Just thinking about her, of her body still curled up naked in my sheets, stiffens my cock. I feel like an idiot, waiting for my father to respond while the only thing on my mind is the scent of the lotion she uses. Her sweet taste. The sounds she made when she told me to keep going last night.
I should probably be sorry for breaking my word to Mrs. P about my intentions for Vero, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t feel any remorse for what we did. Or for being the first man to claim her. That’s a memory I won’t ever forget, and I’m more addicted to her now than ever before.
“Are we done?” I finally demand. I’m sick of listening to him alternate between berating me, breathing, and chatting with my mother. They'll go back to hating each other in a week.
“There must be a girl there,” he drawls. “Liz?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. I meant what I said the other night when I told you I’m done with that shit.” When he asked me a million fucking times if I’d be spending the night with her after that stupid yacht party.
Dad takes a breath, preparing to give me another earful, but the elevator lights up.
Saved by the unexpected visitor.
“I’ve got to go—someone just showed up.” He’s about to say something else, but I cut him off by ending the call. I slam my phone on one of the counters as I storm across the kitchen to greet my intruder. Few people know the codes for the house, so I’m expecting someone from the maid service Mom employs. Instead, I’m soon face-to-face with Liz.
She drapes herself against the elevator door—black hair disarranged to look like she just got out of bed. I might actually buy that, if it weren’t for the carefully applied make-up. Her red lips work into a shit-eating smirk, and one hand is already undoing the laces on her frilly white top. It looks suspiciously similar to the one Veronica ruined here a week ago.
“I told you I was going to The Hamptons,” I say coolly.
“Obviously, you didn’t, that’s why I’m here. To give you a belated birthday gift.” Her eyes bulge when I grab her wrist before she can shrug out of her shirt. “You don’t want it?”
Fuck. I don’t want or need any of this, especially not that baby voice she's using. With my father calling just a few minutes ago, it’s a no-brainer who told her where to find me.
“I’m assuming my dad told you I was still home.”
She offers me a smoky laugh and a shake of her head. “Actually, Erik didn’t answer his phone, but what can I say?” She jerks out of my grasp to snake her hand through her hair. “I’m persistent. I called your mom and she said—”
“You shouldn’t have.” In fact, her persistence can go fuck itself. Right along with the two years we were together. Our relationship ended just before I left for Duke, culminating with her throwing a fire iron at my head on the roof and accusing me of sleeping with one of her best friends. I hadn’t, but she never believed that. I also never gave a shit that she didn’t.
We were done.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Liar, it’s too early to be in the middle of anything.” When she strokes my abs and I catch her wrist again, she sucks in a breath. “Feeling rough this morning?”
“Feeling tired,” I say through my teeth. Feeling like more Veronica. “I’m going back to bed, so—”
She tries to wedge her way inside, but I step left to block her. Not quick enough because her gaze lands on something behind me. Her green eyes narrow at whatever’s she’s looking at, so I glance behind me and hope like hell Veronica isn’t standing there in her birthday suit. Seeing that the kitchen and living area are still empty, I relax. Liz will find out sooner than later, but I’d rather it not be today so I won’t have to diffuse the bullshit bomb she’ll make out of the situation. I scan the area to find what’s caught her attention and then I see it.
Veronica’s pink cotton panties from last night.
They’re on the kitchen island, right next to the pudding.
Liz smirks. “Did that prick Graham hire you a Jello pudding-eating hooker?”
A pudding-eating hooker. I don’t know whether to laugh or groan. I settle for a cold sneer. “You and I both know I don’t need a hooker.”
“Then let me guess, it’s that skank, Veronica.” She wrinkles her nose like she smells shit. “Those panties do look cheap.”
“You ever stop to listen to yourself?” She screws up her face in confusion, but if there’s one thing Liz understands, it’s the weight of everything she says. “You’re being a jealous bitch.”
She flutters her hand over her chest and pokes her lower lip out. “That hurts.”
“It’s the t
ruth.”
“So, she is here.” She runs her tongue over her teeth. A venomous predator ready to pounce. “I just figured she had a thing for older, married men.”
I scowl. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She gives a nonchalant lift of her shoulder. “Tall, good-looking guy. He was all over her in that crappy little music shop she works at. Telling her how pretty she is. She ate that shit right up.” When I don’t say anything, partly because I’m stunned, she grins. “I hope you wrap up when you’re fucking her.”
If she only knew.
“I don’t fuck her because she’s not here and there’s nothing between us.” She starts to argue as I back her into the elevator, and her nostrils flare when I punch the button for the bottom level. “Stay away from her, Liz.”
“Are you in love with her?”
I’ve never stopped to ask myself that, but my feelings for Veronica go beyond physical. Wanting to be around her is the reason I came back this summer. After I fucked things up at Duke, I planned to stay at my parents’ place in Southampton since they weren’t going, but after a few weeks, I couldn’t stop picturing her face. Couldn’t squash down the memory of how I felt when I was around her. I came back just to see and remember.
But love?
Yeah, I love Veronica. I could have gone a lifetime without touching her, without ever knowing how she felt beneath me, without ever knowing she gave a damn about me, and I would still love her.
That’s why I refuse to let pieces of shit like Liz ruin this for me.
I square my shoulders. “Drop it, do you hear me? Go home. Leave me alone and stop harassing Vero.”
“Vero.” She seethes. The elevator doors open, and she staggers off. “Most guys wouldn’t beat their best friend to a bloody pulp over some slut that’s nothing.”
“You misheard. I never said she was nothing.” I back against the elevator wall and cast her a tight smile. “By the way, most girls begging for a second chance wouldn’t fuck my best friend either, but here we are.” She has the good sense to look contrite, but I ignore the apology already pouring from her mouth as the doors shut on her.
It’s not like she means it.
When I get back upstairs to the second level, I freeze when I spot Veronica in the kitchen. She has one hand on the counter to support her weight as she slides her panties up her legs with the other. Ice pierces my chest. “Where are you going?”
Startled, she peeks at me over her shoulder, and I take in the sight of her flushed cheeks. “I should get home, I—”
She stops, breath stuttering, when I reach her in a couple long strides. I grasp her hip to turn her around and pull her body against mine. “Don’t.”
Closing her eyes, she lets out a hitched laugh. “I’m trying to decide whether she’s really in love with you or if she’s just doesn’t want to admit defeat and let you go.”
“I don’t care either way, she knows we’re through.”
She takes a few seconds to digest that, but then she opens her eyes and flattens her lips into an agitated smile. “So that’s why you celebrated your birthday on her father’s yacht? Because that's typically the way I handle my exes.”
Ah, shit. “It wasn’t like that. Her parents and mine planned it a long time ago, and I promised to go. Graham didn’t even come because he said he can’t stand the sight of Liz’s face. I only went to keep my word, that's all.” Her smile softens, so I continue, cupping her face between my hands, “I’m sorry she bothered you at work.”
“It was nothing. She bought a bunch of stuff, so that’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah, well I know how she is.” I stroke my thumb across her delicate cheekbone, feeling a tug in my gut when she sighs and opens her lips slightly. “She said there was a guy … some older man. Your boss?”
Her head jerks back. “Bennett Delaney, is that jealousy?”
“No,” I growl, “But I don’t share. I’ve never been good at it.”
“I remember. You used to drive my mom nuts fighting with Graham and Cain over everything.” When my expression doesn’t change, she sighs. “It was a model scout.”
“A model scout?” I repeat, and she arches her eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that, Veronica. Fuck, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met—I’m just surprised, is all. Was he legitimate?”
She nods. “I looked the agency up. I don’t know if I’ll drop off headshots or any of that because—”
“You should.” She gasps as I lift her up, wincing when I set her on the edge of the countertop. I sink my fingertips beneath her green dress, tracing them up her smooth thighs. “Even if I do hate the thought of other men looking at you.”
“So that is jealousy.”
“I was your first, V. I need to be your last, too.”
A slow, teasing smile forms on her face, so I retaliate by skimming my knuckles along the center of her panties. They’re already clinging to her pussy, and I groan at how wet she is.
“I assume this means you’re not leaving?” Holding her hostage with a hard look, I pull her panties to the side and nudge one finger deep inside. The slick walls of her cunt tighten around me. Wriggling against me, she squeezes her eyes shut and moans. “Are you sore, Veronica?”
She pumps her head up and down, and I match the rhythm with my finger. “A little,” she pants. “Mmm ... very.”
I remove my finger, loving the way she shudders as I take a step back to examine her. “Maybe I should take you home. Let you rest. Give you time to—”
Desire punches me square in the throat as she scoots off the counter and saunters off, heading toward the hallway to my bedroom. She shimmies her panties down her hips, pauses, then casts a look over one shoulder.
“You’re so full of shit, Bennett Delaney.”
CHAPTER 10
VERONICA
“Do you know what my favorite thing about you is?” Bennett questions from between my legs two weeks later. I sit up, bracing myself on my elbows and shaking my head. He buries his nose in one of my thighs and inhales sharply, then releases the breath against my skin. “For starters, it’s your scent.”
“That’s your favorite thing?” I clench one hand in his soft sheets and press my tongue to the roof of my mouth as a smile builds on my features. He turns his attention to my other thigh. Skimming the tip of his nose along my skin, he angles a hungry look at me. “Last night you said it was my ultra-tight—”
He nips my thigh, and I give a loud gasp. “Where’d you get such a filthy mouth, Veronica Jane Palmero?” He tries to sound outraged, but his laughter vibrates my flesh.
“You bit me without letting me finish! I was going to say my ultra-tight abs.” I suck in my belly button and sweep a hand over my stomach. He catches my fingers in his, pinning both my hands at my sides so he can inch his way up my body.
“I’m not even capable of naughty language,” I say. “I’m practically a virgin.”
“Sure, you are,” he drawls, stopping once we’re forehead to forehead, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. I swallow hard. Arch my back when he releases my wrists to spread his fingertips over the hollow of my throat. He wedges his other hand between our bodies, thumbing my clit and grinning against my lips. “But the answer is everything. I love everything about you, Veronica.”
“Everything?” I whisper, and he nods slowly, dark blond hair brushing my cheeks and forehead and nose. He slides his erection against my opening, and I throb around him. “Your mother will be home soon,” I moan, casting a quick glance at the clock by his bed. It’s eleven already, which means she’ll be home from what Graham’s always called her “monthly fashion show at church” sooner than later.
He leans his head back and cocks an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about that?”
“She doesn’t know about”—I shiver all over when the thick head of his cock probes my entrance—“us yet. I swear to God, Bennett—”
“I can tell her the truth. That I’ve been inside of you all
over this apartment. The couches. The shower. The kitchen. I can tell her I can’t get enough of you.”
But nobody knows the full truth—not yet. Graham and Charlotte are too busy with each other, and Erik and Monica have been in their own world since returning from Australia last week. For the first time since I met Bennett, I’ve relished their absence. It sounds so greedy, so entirely screwed, but that’s my truth, my secret.
I have a piece of Bennett Delaney all to myself, and I’m terrified that the moment anyone else knows, it will all fall apart. I tell him this, and he feathers his knuckles over my cheek.
“You worry too much; you always have,” he says, the low hum of his voice twisting my stomach into a delicious knot. He sits back, resting between my legs. Gripping the insides of my thighs, he stares at my pussy then groans and kisses my kneecap. “You’re like fucking heroin.”
“Thanks, I’ve always wanted to be compared to a drug that ruins lives. Now, are you going to let me up before she gets home.”
“I’m trying to. I’m also trying to come up with a better comparison, but I’m empty right now.” He must not be trying too hard on the former because he bends his face between my legs and flicks his tongue over my clit. I pulse. I squirm. And I complain that I need to shower, that I’m sweaty, but then he guides his strong hands beneath the backs of my thighs and positions my legs over his broad shoulders.
“You’re sweaty from me, V. There’s nothing sexier than that.”
I come fast and hard, panting his name in broken syllables. I’m still unsteady when I come out of the shower a half an hour later and redress in the white tank top and jeans I wore over this morning. While I left him in his bed, he’s nowhere to be found now. After dragging the comb I locate in one of his bathroom drawers through my tousled hair, I creep out of the bedroom to figure out where he went.
“Hey, I’m going to go home before the succubus—” I cry out when I’m swooped off my feet by strong, tanned arms. From the tattoos on the hands attached to them, I know it’s definitely not Bennett. I beat against the other man’s chest, and panic when laughter shakes it.