by Laura Lee
I’m positioned in front of a tall, attractive man who’s assessing me carefully. I get the feeling he’s expecting me to be some mousy little thing, so I make a point to hold my chin high and look him directly in the eye. Well, when his eyes finally make their way up to my face anyway. The longer I stand here, the more I see how much he resembles his son. This Preston guy is basically Kingston in thirty years.
I resist the urge to flinch when he grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. “Why, yes, Vanessa. She is quite a beautiful young woman. It’s very nice to meet you, Jasmine.”
Bile rises in my throat when he starts stroking the underside of my wrist with his index finger.
I pull away quickly and step back. “Thanks.”
I glance up and see his son coming from behind him. If I’m not mistaken, Kingston doesn’t seem happy with his dad right now.
“Father, if you’ll excuse me so I can take my seat.”
His dad laughs. “Of course, of course. Please forgive me for causing a traffic jam. You know how irresistible I find a beautiful woman.”
Sperm Donor pats the pervert on the back. “It happens to the best of us, Preston.”
Everyone in the room chuckles except for me. Correction—Kingston’s too busy swallowing the amber liquid one of the maids just set before him.
I take a seat, thankfully in a spot far away from Mr. Davenport. Not so thankfully, the only empty chair with food in front of it was the one occupied by the other Davenport male. I risk a glance at him and his lips turn up in the corners, as if he knows how uncomfortable I am.
Fuck you, my eyes say.
He raises an absurdly sexy eyebrow before leaning into my ear. “Something on your mind, Jazz? You seem tense. Would you like me to help you relax?”
What the hell? I’d expect that comment from his horny friend, but I didn’t think Kingston Davenport was capable of being flirty. This has to be some new form of torment since he’s made it clear that’s his goal. Game on, dickhead.
I lean into his ear. “I can relax just fine all by myself. If I do ever need assistance, I’m sure your friend, Bentley, wouldn’t mind filling in.” Kingston tenses when I dig my nails into his forearm. “I will admit, that bulge of his has me curious to see if it’s as impressive as it seemed in Lit class.”
“Stay away from Bentley,” he growls.
“Why would I—”
“Baby,” Peyton whines, tugging on his other arm. “Did you hear me?”
I sit back in my chair and casually take a sip of water.
Kingston glances at me one more time before turning his attention to my stepsister. “What do you want, Peyton?”
She trails a finger up his arm. “I asked if you wanted to stay for a while after dinner. I miss you, baby.”
His jaw tics. “How many times do we have to discuss this? It’s not happening.”
Peyton glances toward me, probably to see if I’m paying attention.
I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here for the food.”
She glares. “Stay out of it, whore.”
I hold my palms up. “I couldn’t care less what either one of you do.”
Peyton presses her huge boobs into Kingston’s side. “C’mon, baby, let me take care of you. It’s been so long. I’ll even let you stick it up you know where.”
She looks directly at me as she says this, like she thinks I’d be jealous or something. One might think anal sex was a rather bold topic for Peyton to bring up in front of the parents, but we’re on the opposite end of a table that seats at least thirty. It’s the rich person’s version of a kiddie table, I suppose. She’s being quiet enough that her voice won’t carry, but it’s obvious she wants me to hear this for some reason.
Kingston scoffs. “I’d rather have my dick rot off than ever put it inside you again.”
I don’t even try to hide my laughter which makes Peyton fume. I don’t think she was expecting such a venomous response, and she certainly didn’t want me to witness it.
She discreetly flips me off before turning her attention back to Kingston. “Maybe I’ll go see Lucas Gale. He’s always interested.”
Kingston rolls his eyes. “Knock yourself out. Tell him I send my condolences.”
Peyton sits back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Ugh, whatever.”
Man, what the hell is up with these two? I guess Ainsley was right—their relationship is for appearances only. My question is, why bother?
If I thought dinner my first night here was awkward, it was nothing compared to this. Throughout the rest of the meal, I sit back and stockpile information. I’m a people watcher—always have been. You can learn a lot about someone’s true self by simply paying attention. And these people are definitely trying to hide something. Thankfully, they’re all so self-absorbed, nobody notices I’m not talking, nor do they try to engage me in conversation.
It’s so obvious they can’t stand each other. As Charles and Mr. Davenport discuss boating, or golfing, or how well their businesses are doing, you can see their minds working, trying to figure out what to say next to best the other. The two wives at the table are all smiles and laughter, but when Mrs. Davenport looks away, Madeline rolls her eyes, glares at Sperm Donor, or sends longing looks in Mr. Davenport’s direction. Mrs. Davenport has her own set of wandering eyes when she thinks no one is watching, although hers are directed toward her stepson. Huh. That’s... interesting.
As for Peyton and Kingston, those two are probably the worst. Every single time Peyton opens her mouth, Kingston’s fist clenches on his lap. When she asks him a question, he answers with as few words as possible. If she’s complaining about something or belittling someone—which takes up practically the entire conversation—Kingston scoffs or flat-out ignores her. Peyton doesn’t seem to notice he hasn’t made any effort as she prattles on and on. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. I wouldn’t be surprised by either.
I can’t get back to my room fast enough once the final course is cleared. God, why would anyone want to live like that? They’re all so toxic to one another. Are appearances really that important?
AFTER TAKING A SHOWER, I walk out of the bathroom and scream when I see the hulking figure sitting on my bed. His lips tilt in a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself for frightening me. My eyes hone in on muscular arms as he folds them behind his head, relaxing as if he has every right to be on my bed. God, he really is a perfect specimen of the male species. Broad shoulders, ripped body, full lips, and a jaw that would make Henry Cavill jealous. How can someone so ugly on the inside be so beautiful on the outside?
Kingston’s hazel eyes are his most prominent feature. Not because they’re framed by inky black lashes that women pay good money for, more so because of how much depth they hold. No doubt, this guy is hiding some major demons. After meeting his dad earlier, I’d wager that man is a big part of it. As Kingston’s gaze bores into me, taking in the fact I’m wearing nothing but a towel, chills race down my spine. Hatred wars with lust as he looks me over, causing all sorts of confusing emotions.
I refuse to let this jerk intimidate me though, so I straighten my spine and return his frosty expression. “What are you doing here, Kingston? How did you even know which room was mine?”
He eyes me with a look so sinister, I almost lose my bravado. “We need to have a little chat.”
I make a conscious effort to loosen my limbs as I walk into my closet and start searching for some pajamas. “Unless you’re here to apologize for being an asshole, I have no desire to listen to anything you have to say.”
I stiffen when I feel his hard body pressed against mine. Crap, how did he move across the room so silently?
“That’s never going to happen. We might as well get that out of the way.”
I jerk my head over my shoulder. “Well, then you can leave.”
Before I can even register what’s happening, Kingston has me turned around and pressed against the back wall of my closet. He run
s the tip of his finger across my exposed collarbone, swiping at the droplets of water left behind from my shower. I bite back a moan as tingles erupt throughout my body, making my toes curl.
He leans down so we’re face to face, holding me captive with his gaze. I challenge him with my defiance, never once looking away. I can smell alcohol on his breath as the heat from his body crashes into mine. I’m hyperaware that only a flimsy towel covers my body as he cages me in. An inferno builds inside of me as we stare at one another, wordlessly communicating something... although I haven’t quite figured out what that may be yet.
Kingston grips my chin and leans in farther until he’s mere inches away from my mouth. “Listen to me carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. Stay the fuck out of my way. I’ve worked too long and too hard to have some newly discovered bastard screw this up for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I fight a wince when his grip tightens. I’m almost certain I’ll have fingertip-shaped bruises left behind. “Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”
Kingston’s nostrils flare. “Because you distract me.”
“Distract you? And that’s my fault how?”
His eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
My jaw drops. “I’m not doing anything! What kind of fucked up world do you live in where you can just bully someone or throw around accusations like this? Are you here on Peyton’s behalf? Does she want me gone? Is that what this is about?”
“This has nothing to do with Peyton. I don’t give a shit what she wants.”
I roll my eyes. “Wow... don’t hold your breath waiting for the Boyfriend of the Year Award.”
He scoffs. “I’m not her boyfriend and we’re all well aware of that.”
“Yeah... I really don’t think she’d agree. She seemed pretty territorial at dinner.”
Kingston’s gaze lowers to my lips for a brief moment. “Final warning, Jazz.”
I laugh mockingly. “Or what? You don’t sc—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence when his lips claim mine aggressively, his tongue demanding entrance. I gasp which gives him the opening he needs to invade my mouth. Something stirs inside of me then—something purely primitive—and before I can second guess myself, I kiss him back, hard and hot, practically branding myself on his lips.
Kingston wraps his arms around me and wedges his powerful thigh between mine. Our bodies are pressed together, all of his hard edges against my delicately soft curves. Our breaths mingle while our tongues tangle. There’s so much urgency behind this kiss, as if we’re trying to crawl inside each other. It’s hungry and ferocious. Drugging and dizzying. I had no idea a simple meeting of two peoples’ lips could be so damn potent.
Desire thrums through me as his pillowy lips carve a path down my jawline, his teeth scraping along the nape of my neck. Kingston mutters a curse and picks me up, wrapping my legs around his hips. He’s tenting his pants, grinding his erection against me.
Kingston bites the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “You like that?”
My spine bows. “Yeah.”
He groans as his fingers slip beneath the towel, finding my hot flesh. “You want more?”
My head falls back as my eyes close. “Yeah.”
If I was capable of rational thought right now, his dark chuckle might bother me, but I can’t think at the moment—I can only feel. I’ve been so numb over the last few weeks, I latch on to this high like it’s my lifeline. I shudder when he brushes his fingers through my wetness. Groan as he inserts one long finger inside of me. Kingston’s breath hitches as he pumps his finger in and out, rubbing the heel of his palm against my clit.
I bite my bottom lip when he adds a second finger. Together, we develop a rhythm that screams of desperation and hunger. He studies my face, carefully cataloging each feature. Kingston is so perfectly in tune with my whimpers and moans—adjusting angles, pressure, and speed to deliver the most pleasure. It’s so intense, I come apart in record time. He slows his movements as I writhe against him before withdrawing completely. It’s shocking how bereft I suddenly feel as he pulls away, putting my feet back on solid ground.
When our eyes meet, he looks as stunned as I feel. His sandy hair is askew, his breathing is ragged, and his eyes are wild. There’s an obvious bulge in his slacks, but that seems to be the least of his concerns. Before I can utter a single word, Kingston marches out of my room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he’s gone, I glide down the wall, my legs too jelly-like to remain standing. As I comb my hands through my hair, I replay the last ten minutes in my head.
What in the ever-loving hell was that?
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAZZ
“What is going on with you and my brother?” Ainsley asks during lunch. “He’s been throwing shade at Peyton all morning and he won’t stop staring at you.”
I almost choke on my pasta primavera. “Nothing is going on between me and your brother.”
Ainsley gives me a skeptical look. “Jazz, seriously. Don’t tell me ‘nothing’ because my twin senses are tingling. Yesterday Kingston was a major dick to you and now he looks like he wants to jump your bones. Also, you have the fact that he’s not even trying to hide his contempt toward Peyton. What the hell happened at dinner last night?”
I shrug. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s bullshit. He wants something from you.” She pauses for a moment. “Or he already got something from you.”
I try fighting it, but I know I’m blushing. I can only hope my tanned complexion hides it. I can’t stop thinking about what happened in my closet last night. I’m no virgin, but I’m not a girl who easily jumps into bed with someone. I’ve only slept with one guy, and he was my boyfriend. The fact I allowed Kingston to touch me like that when I just met him is completely out of character for me. Why do I have to be so damn attracted to him? And why did it have to feel so good?
Ainsley gasps. “Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it?” She leans over and lowers her voice even more. “Did you two hook up last night?”
“No, we didn’t hook up!” I whisper-shout. “Just please drop it, Ainsley.”
She looks over my shoulder. “Oh, this ought to be good.”
I turn around. “What ought to be—”
My question is answered when I see Peyton and Kingston having a heated discussion. Her face is pinched and her arms are flailing. I turn back around when she jumps out of her chair and marches directly toward me.
Ainsley smiles sweetly when Peyton arrives at our table. “Oh, hey, Peyton. What’s up?”
Peyton parks a hand on her hip and glares at me. “Stay out of this, Ainsley. My problem is with that bitch.”
Did Kingston tell her about what happened last night?
I fold my arms, trying to appear disinterested. “Watch who you’re calling a bitch, bitch.”
I don’t mean to, but I look back at Kingston. He’s watching our interaction carefully but making no move to interfere.
She mimics my pose. “Stop staring at my boyfriend. It’s pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” I scoff. “What’s pathetic is the fact you’re so delusional you can’t see I’m not the one with a staring problem. You should be having this discussion with your so-called boyfriend.”
Her blue eyes flash with ire as her face reddens. “Kingston is mine, you whore. Stay away from him.”
I smirk. “I have no interest in being anywhere near Kingston. You should be telling him to stay away from me.”
“Yeah, right. Like that’s necessary.” Peyton cocks her head and twirls her finger in my direction. “Trash isn’t his type.”
I lift my eyebrows, ignoring her jab. “You sure about that?”
I can see the doubt set in right before a huge grin stretches across her face. “You know what? You’re right. Why are we even having this conversation? You’re my sister. The last thing we should be doing is fighting over a stupid boy.”
I scrub a hand over my face. Is this chick mental? Does she not remember warning me to stay away from her boyfriend within the first few minutes of meeting me?
“Jazz, look o—” Ainsley tries to warn me, but it’s too late.
I lift my head just in time to feel ice cold water raining down on me. Laughter echoes throughout the room, growing so loud it’s almost deafening. Peyton is grinning with my now empty glass in her hand. Okay, that’s it; I’ve officially had enough.
I bolt out of my chair and punch Peyton right in the face. My lips curl at the satisfying crunch my fist makes. Screams break out as blood sprays from Peyton’s nose, little spatters landing on both of our stark white shirts.
“I just got this nose, you skank!” She launches herself at me but my reflexes are on point so I dodge her move.
The floor is slippery from the spilled drink and we both fall down. Peyton and I grapple until I manage to climb over her and straddle her chest. I couldn’t care less that my skirt is riding up as I do. Chants of “Girl fight!” ring out amongst our gathered audience, but I do my best to focus on the target at hand. I deliver a swift bitch slap right across Peyton’s cheek before clenching her shirt in my hand.
Her eyes widen in panic as I put pressure on her chest, getting right in her face. “I fucking warned you, bitch, but you didn’t listen. I was happy to leave you alone but if you want to fuck with me, I’m going to fight back and I’m going to fight dirty.”
A set of strong arms loop under my armpits, hauling me off of her.
“That’s enough!” a deep voice growls.
I shrug out of Kingston’s hold and pin him with a glare. “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“You’ll pay for this!” Peyton screams as she stands. “You’re fucking dead, you stupid cunt!”
I lunge for her again, but I’m held back by a different set of arms. “Whoa there, kitten. Retract the claws.”
I look over my shoulder and find Bentley, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement. “Let. Me. Go.”
He tightens his grip. “Nah, I’m good.”