A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: A Lancaster Prep Novel
A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: Chapter 39

I HOLD her close and let Wren control the kiss at first, sensing that she needs it. That semblance of control, of being in charge of her life, which I don’t think she experiences much. Her sadness is obvious, palpable. About to steal all of the oxygen out of the damn room until I distracted her.

She needed that. Needs this. Me. My hand slides up and down the perfect curve that is her ass, her tongue darting out to lick at mine. I hum my approval when she sucks on my tongue, and then I can’t hold back any longer.

I take over, my hand going to the side of her face, angling it for a deeper kiss. Our tongues dance, our breathing quickens, and she slides her hands up my chest, curving them around my shoulders, so she can cling to me.

This entire day has been foreplay, Wren-style. Shopping, eating. Lots of eating, which drives me out of my damn mind. Watching her face light up when she oohed and aahed over the Christmas decorations everywhere. The determined look that took over her face when she spotted that small lingerie store and came out of it not even fifteen minutes later, clutching a tiny red bag in her hand.

I can’t wait to see what she got there.

There is so much more to this girl than meets the eye, and I like that she’s comfortable enough to reveal those things to me. I’m trying to be more open with her too, and I wonder if she realizes that.

If she knows how much she affects me.

Wren is unlike any girl I’ve ever known, and I want to know more. I feel as if I’ve barely scratched the surface, and tonight’s mini-rant was telling.

Though I shouldn’t call it a rant. She was being real and raw and vulnerable. Something she’s done with me often, which I like.

Damn it, I like everything about this girl, and that’s scary as fuck.

I don’t let people into my life, especially a girl. I have friends, but I keep most of them at surface level, worried to let them get close. I don’t trust people, even guys who are almost as rich as I am.

But no one I know is as wealthy as my family, and it’s hard to let them into my inner circle. Every girl who’s ever shown interest in me I always figured was after my money.

Shitty but true.

Not Wren though. She wanted nothing to do with me at first, but I guess I wore her down. It’s as if we can’t help ourselves when we’re around each other.

And now that we’ve gone this far, I’m not about to let her go without a fight.

She breaks the kiss first, her chest brushing against mine with her every breath. “I have a surprise for you.”

I raise my brows. “Does it have anything to do with that bag over there?” I incline my head toward the cluster of bags she left on the coffee table.

She nods, biting her lower lip. “I hope you don’t think it’s stupid.”

“Anything involving you and whatever you found at that store, I know it won’t be stupid.”

Her smile is small, her gaze locking on mine. “I’ve had so much fun with you today.”

I don’t think anyone’s ever called spending time with me fun before.

“And I’m so glad you convinced me to come with you, even though I was scared.” Her hands tighten on my shoulders. “I like how you push me.”

I run a hand through her hair, cupping the side of her head. “I don’t think you know what you’re capable of.”

“I’m starting to realize, thanks to you.” Her smile grows and then she’s ducking out of my hold and practically running over to the bags, plucking up the one from the lingerie store before she heads for the stairs. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Meet me up there in thirty?”

“Sure,” I tell her, smiling at her before she zooms up the stairs.

I settle onto the couch with another slice of pizza, checking my phone while I wait. I have text messages I’ve been avoiding. Ones from Malcolm and Ezra, both of them asking where I’m at. One from my sister, asking if I’ll be at the house for Christmas Eve.

I shoot her a quick text, because I never ignore Charlotte. She’s my closest sibling and I’ve been worried about her ever since she married that Perry dude.

There’s an ominous message from my father, one that fills me with dread.

We need to talk. Call me when you get a chance.

I consider ignoring it, but realize quickly that avoiding my problems is not the answer.

I bring up his number and call him, hoping he won’t answer.

Just my luck, he picks up on the second ring.

“Why didn’t you tell me detectives interviewed you yesterday?” he barks at me.

Damn it, I’m probably going to need alcohol after this conversation.

“You already knew about the situation, so I didn’t think I needed to call you. Plus, I’m eighteen. An adult,” I remind him.

“I deserved a call. That way I’m not caught unaware when some asshole reporter reaches out, looking for a reaction from me.”

Shit. I didn’t expect that.

“Why would anyone care? This doesn’t really involve us.”

“Because we’re Lancasters, son. And what we do, people pay attention to, even when we’re only involved on the sidelines,” Dad explains, his tone rough. I can tell he’s losing patience with me.

“Well, it was nothing. I was interviewed, I told my side of the story and what I saw, and that’s the end of it.” I glance upwards at the loft, hearing the telltale sign of the shower running, and I imagine Wren standing under the hot spray of water, her slick, naked body shrouded by steam.

Reaching between my legs, I readjust myself.

“The reporter was kind enough to tell me the story is hitting the papers Monday morning. You will be named as a witness. You will most likely have to testify in court when it goes to trial. I hope you’re prepared to make an appearance,” Dad says.

“I look forward to it. Anything to put that slimeball away for good.” I relish the thought of Figueroa behind bars. It’s what the asshole deserves.

“Where are you anyway? I saw that you used the jet.”

Damn. Busted.

“Vermont.”

“With who?”

“A friend.”

“Don’t you have finals next week?”

“Yeah, so?” I sound like a fucking little kid, but this is what happens when my dad does this sort of shit to me.

I revert.

“So I don’t think it’s wise that you’re out partying the weekend before finals,” he says, anger lacing his tone. “You can’t be a fuck-up during the important moments in your life, Crew. You have to straighten out sometime.”

I press my lips together to keep from saying something I’ll regret.

“You should go back to campus,” he continues. “Study for your finals and make sure your grades are in good shape. You’ve applied to colleges and I’m sure they’re watching you.”

I doubt that. Every single one of them will let me in if my family donates a building in our name or whatever the fuck.

“Right,” I tell him, just to get him off my back. “Okay.”

“Go home,” he asserts. “Tomorrow.”

“Will do.” That was always the plan.

“And keep out of trouble.”

“Always.”

He goes silent for a moment. I’m sure I’ve made him angry. “Are you being flippant with me? You should know better, son. I don’t like it when you give me attitude.”

“I’m agreeing with you. That’s all,” I say, my voice hollow.

Kind of like my heart.

“As long as you understand then. Good night.”

“Night,” I say to nothing.

He already ended the call.

Pocketing my phone, I go to the kitchenette and pull out the bottle of vodka from the fridge, then grab a glass from the cabinet. I pour a healthy amount into it and take a deep swig, swallowing hard before I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.

Fuck, I need another.

Talking to my father always leaves me full of doubt, and I hate it. He goes from completely ignoring me to questioning every move I make, and I end up feeling like a complete fuck up.

I’m not. I’ve got my head on straight, and for the first time in my life, I know what I want.

Wren.

I’m falling for her. I’d do anything for her. Does she know that? Does she realize how important she is to me? I should tell her.

I should. Tonight.

I’ve had a couple of glasses by the time I hear Wren’s sweet voice calling from the loft.

“Crew? Where are you?”

Taking one last swallow directly from the bottle, I leave it on the counter and head up the stairs, pushing my father from my mind. My family. All of it.

I want to concentrate on Wren. No one else but her matters.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I come to a stop, watching Wren as she stands by the foot of the bed, wrapped in one of the hotel robes. Her hair is down, falling far past her shoulders, and her face is scrubbed clean save for a shiny red lip-gloss that’s been applied to her lips.

My dick stands at attention.

“Is that what you got at the store?” I tease her.

She glances down at herself, her mouth curved in a smile. “Not quite.”

“Show me what you got then.”

Wren returns her gaze to mine. “You really want to see?”

I nod.

She reaches for the front of her robe, toying with the cloth belt. “It might surprise you.”

“I love a good surprise.”

Her laughter is soft. Sexy as fuck. “I hope you like it.”

“Drop the robe and let me see, Birdy.”

With shaky fingers, she undoes the belt, the white terrycloth parting slightly, giving me a view of sexy legs, a flat stomach and plumped-up tits. She shrugs out of the robe completely, so it falls in a puddle around her feet, and I stare at her, all the air from my lungs sticking in my throat.

The bra she’s wearing is made of the palest, sheerest pink trimmed with red lace. I can see her nipples. The panties match, and I can see her pubic hair too. She may as well be naked, but fuck, she’s not.

She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“You like it?” Wren asks shyly.

Nodding, I start to approach, pausing when there’s still a few feet between us. It’s now or never. I want to pounce, and I assume she wants me to, considering what she’s wearing, but fuck.

I need to make sure.

“I love it.” The gentle curve of her stomach, that small indentation of her belly button…I want to stroke her there. With my tongue. “I’m afraid once I get my hands on you, I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something unfamiliar shimmers in her gaze, and she licks her lips. “That was the reaction I was hoping for.”

Her permission given, I go to her, settling my hands on her hips, toying with the thin lacy waistband of her panties. “You make me feel out of my fucking mind, Birdy.”

She tilts her head back, smiling up at me, though her eyes are wide. I see fear in them, and I want to banish that. Banish everything that scares her so she feels safe with me. “I like that you make me feel confident.”

I pull her into me, her body colliding with mine. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes flare with heat.

“I can see you.” I cup her left tit, gently squeezing, making her eyelids waver. “Your nipples.” I place my hand over her pussy, the heat from her body radiating, coating my palm. “Your pussy. You wanted me to see you.”

She nods, her lips parted.

“And your mouth.” I touch the corner of her lips, pulling away to replace faint red gloss coating my fingertips. “You remembered what I said.”

“I want to do something,” she whispers. “Will you let me?”

“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate.

Whatever she wants, I’ll give her.

Wren shifts away from me to go grab her phone off the nightstand, her ass cheeks jiggling as she walks. My dick surges against my jeans, and I reach between my legs, cupping myself. Trying to get comfortable.

“I want to take a photo,” she starts, and I lift my brows.

“You fucking serious?”

She seems mildly aggravated. “Let me finish. I want to take a photo of you. And then me. Us. Together.”

“That’s called photographic evidence, baby.”

Her smile is sassy as she approaches me. “I’m not scared. Okay, take off your sweater.”

I do as she says, whipping it off over my head and letting it drop. Her appreciative gaze skims over my shoulders. My pecs. Dips down to my stomach. All that wide-eyed wonder as she takes me in makes me want to rip off my jeans and show her what she really wants to see.

“Okay, hold still.” She takes a few steps toward me, her mouth close to my left pec. Pursing her lips, she leans in and presses a long, sticky kiss to my skin before pulling away.

Then she snaps a photo of the mark she left.

“Trying to brand me?”

“Making a memory with you.” She kisses me again, in a different spot, yet close enough to the first one. She takes a photo of that as well, then checks it out, her brows furrowed in concentration as she studies the image.

“How did it turn out?”

“I need darker lipstick, I think.” She holds the phone out to me.

I check out the photo. “You do. I can see it, but not very well.”

“I’ll wear a darker one next time,” she murmurs, her voice loaded with promise.

“You want to do this again?”

“There are lots of things I want to do with you.” I see the emotion shining in her eyes, and I realize this is my moment. I need to be open with this girl, and tell her how I feel.

“I want to do a lot of things with you too.” I pull her into my arms, just holding her. “You know I care about you, right?”

She blinks up at me. “You do?”

“Well, yeah. I—don’t do relationships. Not normally. My parents…” My voice drifts and she waits patiently for me to continue. “They aren’t the best example. There wasn’t a lot of love in my house growing up. Just money.”

Always money.

“We’re not our parents,” she murmurs, and I wonder if she’s thinking of her own.

“Yeah, but they influence us, and how we act. My dad was—is—such a controlling prick. He’s not a nice person.” That’s putting it mildly.

“You are though.” When I start to argue she shakes her head, and I go quiet. “You are. You’re sweet and kind. With me.”

“That’s because I like you.” Those words don’t seem big enough for how I really feel about Wren. It’s more than like. Or care. It’s…

I don’t want to put a label on it. Not yet.

“Then I guess I should feel honored.” She laughs, the sound soft.

Sexy.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I kiss her until she’s out of breath, my tongue doing a thorough search of her delectable mouth. Fuck, I can’t get enough of her. This feeling is so overwhelming, it almost fucking hurts.

Even worse? The thought of losing her. That’s downright unbearable to even imagine.

When she pulls away, she smiles, thrusting her phone in between us and taking a photo of me.

“What the fuck, Birdy?”

She’s already opening up the photo, smiling. “Your lips are covered in gloss.”

When she shows me the photo on her phone, all I see is a lust-filled idiot who’s left in a daze by the girl who just kissed him. “I look stupid.”

“More like stupid hot.” She tosses the phone on the bed, smiling up at me. “Thank you for indulging me and my little project.”

“Are you done?”

“I think so,” she says shyly.

“Good.” I lean in closer, stealing a kiss. Then another. “Because now it’s my turn.”