Privileged

by Carrie Aarons

  Backing me up against the wall, his eyes never leave mine and his fingers dig into the material of my dress.

  And then he does.

  Tilts his head, drags his tongue across his bottom lip, smirks the slightest bit, and covers my mouth with his.

  The shock hits me first, coursing through my bones while they seize up and my heart gallops at a champion filly’s pace. I’ve never had another person’s lips touch my own, aside from my mothers. Never a boy, one with a man’s build.

  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that the boy who torments and entices me would be the one to grant me my first kiss.

  Asher’s mouth pries at my unmoving lips, his warm, wet taste sending fireballs of lust rocketing between my thighs. When I don’t respond, he increases the pressure, trapping my head between his rough hands and delving deeper into the kiss.

  That sets me off, the hunger he’s feeding me from his own body. My lips move, tentatively at first. But then my whole body gets involved, the storm of fire picking up like brush catching the wind. His skill gives me the education I need, his body meeting every curve of my own and pressing in all of the right places.

  A moan rumbles through my throat and past his lips, and an answering growl vibrates past my tongue, lighting me up from the inside out. He’s stealing my breath, making it hard to breath between his deep and exploring taste of my mouth. He keeps his hands on my hips, even though I want them to move up and down my body. Besides his hands and lips keeping my locked into place, no other points of connection are being made between us. In a deep part of my brain, the part that isn’t dazing out on the drug of his kiss, I find it odd that he isn’t pressing this further.

  Had I challenged him to this? Had I known that all along we would end up here? I would be lying to myself if I said that I hadn’t.

  “Stroke. That’s why I’m so good at it.” His accent is dark and stormy as he pulls away.

  I’m not sure what he looks like at this moment, because I can’t seem to open my eyes. I just feel for the wall, hoping it will hold me up as my knees knock together.

  Asher’s breath hits my ear. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

  And then his hands are gone, the raw scent of male leaves the room. After several seconds of focusing on nothing but gulping air in and blowing it out, I open my eyes.

  I run on facts and logic. Theories and conclusions.

  But what just happened in this room defies all of that, leaving me feeling as if I’ve never truly known anything in my entire life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nora

  Assuming the natural progression of life, I always thought that my mother would be the one helping me plan a wedding someday.

  But with her high-profile engagement and laissez-faire attitude about the grand event that would be her nuptials, I found myself pushing her along to pick out the noteworthy details. And some not-so-noteworthy details.

  “Honestly, sweetheart, I could marry Bennett in the back garden of this place and call it a day. Just two rings, an ordained person, and I’d be happy as a clam. I already am. I don’t understand why everyone is interested in what thousand-dollar designer gown I’m going to wear.”

  Mom slumps into her hands, samples of taffeta and napkin colors piling up over her head.

  This is how she’s been about the entire wedding ever since the paparazzi attacked her viciously the first time we set foot on European soil. She simply followed the man she loved, and was being harassed and judged at every turn. I knew I was too, but Mom was bearing the brunt of it and I felt sad for her. It was supposed to be one of the happiest times of her life, and she was all but canceling the whole big shebang.

  I had always been the one out of both of us who organized life in general. She made the real money and all of the property was in her name, but I paid the bills. I had a schedule set up for auto-withdrawals and direct deposits. When the cable or Internet went out, I called the company. If the electricity bill seemed too high, I was the one who argued with the idiots on the phone until they gave us a credit. I made the dentist appointments, I monitored when the car needed an oil change. Not that my mother wasn’t an adult, she was a fully capable woman who supported us. But I was also a part of the family, and I wanted to contribute in the way my brain best allowed me. Honestly, I enjoyed keeping the books, so to speak.

  “Because you’re their fairy tale, Mom. You are the woman every little girl wants to be, getting swept off of her feet by the handsome prince.” I do a little flourish with my hands.

  She looks up, tears threatening. I know how stressful this has been on her.

  “Come on, look. You’re getting an all-expenses paid day to live out your wildest dreams. The world’s biggest names when it comes to catering, dresses, shoes, makeup … they all want to be a part of it. I know it’s tedious and every decision you make is scrutinized, but come on. Who cares what those people think?! You get to pick whatever you want, go as extravagant as you please. And then, at the end of the day, it will still be about two people who fell in love. So let’s do this, have fun with it!”

  I put an extra sparkle in my smile to get her mood up. Finally, she sits up straight, some of that Randolph confidence filling out her slim form.

  “Okay, you’re right. Gosh, how did I raise such an awesome kid?”

  “It was all you, Mom. But I must say, I’m pretty fab.” I shrug like I just can’t help it.

  She reaches over and puts her arm around my shoulder. “We are blessed, and I need to stop complaining about the gifts we’ve been handed because some people are arseholes.”

  Her use of the British phrase makes me crack up, because she’s been working on her accent which is terrible.

  “Yes, we are, now which color do you want these linens to be?”

  We go through samples of everything from linens to dress fabric to flower colors and arrangements for the next half an hour. Mom actually seems excited about some of the choices, one of which includes a mini-Philly cheesesteak as an appetizer for the cocktail hour. We insisted on having some of our own culture and traditions included, and Bennett was nothing but supportive.

  “So, how about the guest list?” Mom looks up as I’m scrolling through my phone looking at the options for tiaras that the royal jeweler sent to my email.

  “What about it?” I’m distracted, so I don’t see or hear the hint in her expression.

  “Did they give you a plus one?”

  This makes me put my phone down. “Why would they give me a plus one? I’m going to be running around like crazy just keeping you calm and happy.”

  Mom frowns. “It’s a day for you to enjoy and celebrate in as well, and if you really need to be doing those things for me, then it won’t be a good day. Plus, it looks like you might have a … friend that you’d like to celebrate the day with.”

  Her expression is all coy and sneaky, and my apprehension rises. I don’t like where this is going at all. “Um, I barely have any friends here.”

  “That’s not what it looked like at the regatta.” She sips her tea, her eyes sparking with curiosity.

  I roll my eyes, staring down at my own tea. One of the waitstaff brought it in, something they did every afternoon regardless of whether we asked for it or not. I was actually starting to get used to it, and the act of afternoon tea was calming.

  Except for right now. “Asher and I are not friends, Mom. I just … know him from class.”

  She makes a sound that says she’s not convinced. “That was not a boy who looked like he was just ‘in your class.’ He’s interested in you, honey. And he’s cute, like really cute. That makes me a cougar or something, but I say it in the most non-weird way possible. Maybe it’s time that you let yourself have a little fun. I also sound like the worst parent in the world suggesting that, but you live your life more responsibly than most forty year olds I know. You need to go a little crazy.”

  I can’t help but snort out a laugh. “Who would have thought t
his would ever be a normal mother-daughter conversation that we would have?”

  But her words do hit me in a part of my heart that feels so unexplored, it is basically another planet. For the thousandth time since I’ve moved here and started at Winston, I question why I haven’t ventured outside of my safe little intellectual bubble.

  Mom leans over, taking a hold of my hand. “We are not the normal kind of people. Look at us.”

  She points to the ballroom we sit in, the one placed right in the middle of Kensington Palace. You know, the place that we live.

  “Maybe you’re right … but I’m not saying yes to a plus one.”

  Mom puts on her singsong voice. “But you’re thinking about it!”

  She was right. I was thinking about it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Asher

  Getting to someone’s weak spot, or exploiting their inner most need, has become an art form for me.

  I’m exceedingly good at reading people, at knowing their motivations and personality within the first five minutes of meeting. It’s like a gift and a curse; I can instantly tell which kind of people I will like, or at least respect, and which will drive me bloody mad until the day I can get away from them.

  One of the things that drives me absolutely bonkers is that I can’t get a read on Nora Randolph. My first mistake was assuming that she was the typical brat who comes into fame and fortune. As I’ve found out, she could care less about the money. In school, on the trip to Paris, any of the other times I’ve interacted with her … she’s not once talked about expensive shoes or jewelry or trips to far off places. Nora had only wanted to see the Eiffel tower, or watch the boat race, or study.

  The second mistake I made was in letting her convince me that was all she was. Because I may be a good liar, but Nora was a decent one too. She masked her real personality, hid her intellect and her opinions. Her anger was always thickly veiled, and any mention of her former life is nonexistent.

  I’d gotten cocky in my haste to take down her stepfather, but I needed to do more recon.

  Which was exactly why I’d semi-stalked Nora on the way home from school today. I’d noticed a while ago that she’d begun ducking her security detail and walking home through the park by Winston Academy. Which just so happened to back right up to Regent Street, the main shopping district in London.

  “Hi, princess.” I stroll up next to her, making sure to turn on my extra-charm smile.

  At first, she tries to ignore that I’m even there, but that familiar electricity crackles between us. That’s fine, I like the challenge. And now that I’ve misjudged her, I want even more to expose her soft spot.

  Something feels different, though. Typically, the girls I pursue play hard to get as an act, and I know the whole time that I am the one in control. But after that kiss … bloody Christ could that girl kiss … I felt a little … off my game. She seemed to have some knowledge over me now, and maybe I’d gone too far with the kiss after the race. It was making me second guess all of my moves, and I silently cursed myself for letting a girl like Nora get in my head.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around all day like a lovesick puppy?”

  Her snarly tone went straight to my balls, and I knew I was sick and twisted for it but I didn’t care.

  “Actually, love, I don’t. You’re the most interesting thing in all of London, or didn’t you know?

  “Coming from the self-proclaimed con-artist of the foggy city, I guess I should take that as a compliment.” Her tongue burns almost as hot as the color of her hair.

  And it’s as if she sees right through me. But Nora could never guess my real motives for growing close to her.

  “Exactly. So how about it, let’s go on a date.” I catch a strand of her hair in the wind, the silky lock slipping through my fingers.

  She yanks away. “Don’t you know anything about personal boundaries? And no, I am not going on a date with you.”

  We head onto the busy street, one packed with tourists and Londoners alike, popping in and out of the trendy shops lining the pavement.

  “Okay, I get it. I’m good enough to snog, but not good enough to date.” The corner of my mouth flicks up at the memory of pinning her against the wall in the boathouse.

  Nora stops as if someone has completely yanked her chain, and then gets real close, waving a finger in my face. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are the one who has pursued me. You are the one who kissed me. I’ve wanted none of it. And what the hell is wrong with you anyway? The first day of school, you basically threatened me. And now you’re trying to date me? You’re psychotic.”

  I’d been called worse. “Maybe we should kiss and make up then?”

  Nora throws up her hands and stomps away. “You drive me batshit crazy!”

  Increasing my pace to catch up with her, I chuckle. “Maybe that’s what you’re looking for in a lad. How about this? Hang out with me this afternoon, and if you don’t thoroughly enjoy yourself, I’ll leave you alone.”

  My words dangle between us, the honk of cabs and whoosh of red double deckers around us the only sounds that register. My idea is just crazy enough to work, but if she accepts, I need to pull out all of the stops to hook her for good.

  Those hazel eyes seem to work around the idea, and I can practically hear the cogs in her brain digesting it. That brain, God I would love to learn more about that.

  “Fine. But this is it. After today, you take a hike.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and my eyes flit to the small opening in her uniform blouse.

  “Don’t be so sure about that. But, it’s a deal that I’m willing to take. Come on then, we’re almost there.”

  I walk ahead, waiting to hear her black chunky school shoes behind me. I skirt tourists and look for my destination, knowing it is the one place that she’ll be vulnerable with me. If I’m going to succeed in pulling her closer to me, then I can’t take her to a fancy restaurant. She would never sit somewhere like a coffee shop and chat about the nonsense of our lives. No, we need fun. Interaction. And judging from that kiss, as hot as bollocks as it was, Nora is naïve. Inexperienced.

  “This is where you really want to go?” She peers up at the sign of the store I’m stopped in front of.

  “You’re not a proper Londoner until you’ve bought your first toy from Hamley’s. So, this is where we are going.”

  A toy store is the perfect place to arse off, and if this can’t get Nora to loosen up around me, I’m not sure what will. And although she still has a sourpuss expression on her face, I can see the childlike interest in her eyes. Finally, I’m making some inroads to figuring this bird out.

  We enter the store, the staff smiling and welcoming us. I used to come here all the time as a boy, but haven’t stepped foot in a toy store since I turned thirteen and a girl’s baps were the most interesting toys I wanted to get my hands on.

  Seven stories of wonder and awe, starting with the ground floor of every stuffed animal you could possibly think up. I know that further up, there is a floor worth of Harry Potter merchandise, and a Lego floor that even sparks my interest.

  “Pick anything you’d like, it’s on me.” I have to laugh a little at her face.

  Nora looks like she just walked into Christmas morning itself. She’s probably too overwhelmed to be cheeky right now, because she just ignores me and begins to walk around.

  Meandering through the shelves, she stops and picks up a pink spotted stuffed hippo. “I used to have one just like this.”

  I catch the look of homesickness that winks around the corner of her eyes, and the arsehole inside of me feeds on that insecurity.

  “It must have been tough leaving the States …” I want her to open up to me, even if it is for my own ill gains.

  “Yes, sort of. But I love my mom, so it wasn’t so hard.” Not the soul-professing answer I was looking for, but at least she isn’t biting my head off.

  As we walk, I study her body and movement. Sh
e’s long but lean, like an elegant gazelle. Nora moves almost silently around the store, and if she were any other person, the customers in the store would be all over her. I’m surprised that no one has recognized her yet, but she sinks into the racks and blends so that barely anyone notices her. I find it fascinating yet alarming, how a girl this beautiful can go unseen; takes skill and practice. Those long legs under the uniform plaid skirt, skin I just want to run my hands over and watch blush with desire.

  Wordlessly, she moves to the escalator and I follow, not having gotten anything out of her but the one sentence.

  “What was your favorite board game growing up? I was a Monopoly man myself, you know snatching up property and money has always been my thing.” I wink at her as the escalator goes up.

  Those peach lips tip up. “You would. No, I was more of a Clue girl. Figuring out the mystery, using logic. And I have always loved a good thriller.”

  “Ah, okay. So you fancied Nancy Drew then?”

  Nora scoffs. “Try Agatha Christie.”

  “Are you the type of person who reads the last chapter and spoils the book?” Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Of course not, that’s cheating. But really, what was the last book you even read?” She walks onto the second floor and almost steps on the large train set lining the floor.

  I catch her elbow, the feel of her beneath my fingers like silk and something forbidden.

  “Oops, thank you.” She looks sheepish but I know that I’m slowly making her warm up to me.

  “And for your information, I am a big Dan Brown fan. So don’t think I’m some big tosser.” I fold my arms over my chest, and I notice when her eyes shoot down to study my pecs through my uniform button up.