He’s consuming me, and I match his hunger with an incessant, almost desperate need that beats like a drum in my chest. Between my legs. It pushes me to yank on his shirt and pull it from where it was tucked into his trousers. He doesn’t stop me, just urges me on with the low groan that sounds deepin his chest when I touch his bare skin. I skim my fingernails along the smooth skin of his back, his side, his flat stomach, my touch making him shudder. I spread my thighs, and he nestles his hips between them, slowly pushing against me as we kiss and kiss, letting me feel him. He’s hard. Big. I’m not scared, though. I want it.
I want him.
We’re a scrambling mess as we strip off each other’s clothes. I marvel at the sight of his firm chest, and he traces the edge of my pale pink bra, his fingers making my exposed skin pebble with goose bumps.
It’s too much and not enough until eventually we’ve discarded our clothes and our legs get tangled up as we reach for each other, hungry mouths clashing, tongues tangling. Breaths panting in time to the beat of our hearts. He’s hot, his skin slick with a faint sheen of sweat, and he pauses at one point, reaching under one of the pillows for the condom he clearly stashed there earlier. He wordlessly holds it up to show me, and I nod, afraid he might say something to ruin the moment, but he doesn’t.
I reach for him, our mouths connecting, chests pressed together, heartbeats matching time. He works his way down my body, his mouth touching me in places that make me shiver. Make me moan. His fingers explore between my legs, then begin to stroke, ratcheting my need for him higher and higher still, until I’m falling apart with his name on my lips, my entire body engulfed in shivery flames.
When he rolls on the condom and finally works his way inside me, I close my eyes, my body going tense. His mouth finds the sensitive spot behind my ear, licking and sucking theskin there until a shudder shimmers all the way to my toes. “You feel so fucking good, Billie,” he whispers as he begins to move.
I let myself go, shutting my mind off, telling myself I can forget why I’m here for one night. I want this. I deserve this.
I do.
…
Iwake up the next morning confused, unsure at first of where I am. But then it all comes rushing back to me in a flood of delicious memories and I fall back against the soft stack of pillows, closing my eyes with a smile.
Last night was … amazing. Magical. We talked long into the night, until we eventually fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, but now he’s nowhere to be found.
Sitting up, I push my hair out of my eyes and look around, spotting the white rose from dinner and a note from Connor resting on his empty pillow.
Meet me in the art room for breakfast. You’ve inspired me to paint again.
X— C
Giddy, I hurriedly get dressed and head for the art room. It feels like I’m walking on air the entire way. Are the birds chirping louder than usual? Is the rising sun brighter this morning? It certainly feels that way. My cheeks hurt, and I realize it’s because I’m smiling so much. What’s gotten into me?
Connor, the naughty voice whispers in my brain, making me giggle.
Luckily, it’s early enough and hardly anyone is out yet. I can have a quick breakfast with Connor and then go back to my room to change into my uniform before classes start. I have plenty of time.
I glide into the art room, coming to a stop when I see Connor sitting at a small table in the middle of the room, his face as blank as the empty canvas nearby. On the table is Isla’s yearbook and the dossier Peter and Whitney gave me.
My heart, my entire body, is in free fall. My brain scrambles to come up with an explanation, but I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“What the hell is this, Billie?” Connor stands, waving at the yearbook and the dossier. “Who are you? Why are you at Wickham?”
“I never—I didn’t want you to find out like this.” Tears are already streaming down my face, dripping off my jaw, but I don’t bother wiping them away. I’m devastated by the look on his face. He’s angry, that much is obvious, but I can also see the hint of pain in his gaze. I betrayed him. Hurt him. After everything he said last night and what happened between us, this is how I repay him.
“Find out what, exactly? What are you, some sort of spy?”
I crack out a laugh, but there’s nothing humorous about it. “I’m—I’m Isla’s sister.”
His incredulous expression says it all. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true. Our parents separated when we were young. I went to the States with our mom while Isla stayed here with our father. Peter Vale is my dad.” I sniff, shaking my headonce. “We’re not close at all, and I hadn’t heard from him in more than ten years before he called to tell me about Isla, but yeah. He’s my dad.”
Connor looks away from me, working his jaw. I can feel the anger radiating from him, and I want to throw myself at him. Fall to my knees and beg forgiveness.
But that would be a lost cause. I can tell from his body language that he’s completely closed himself off from me. I’ve ruined everything.
“Peter Vale asked me to come to Wickham to try and figure out who hurt Isla and your sister,” I admit, hating how my voice trembles. “We don’t have much time left. Isla will be arrested by the end of tomorrow, but I know she didn’t do it.”
His gaze meets mine once more. “Who did, then?”
“I don’t know!” I throw my hands into the air. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”
