She bites her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me to not lean forward a few inches and pull it free with my teeth. She stares at me, at this face that has gotten me so many things I have desired over the years. She is not smiling like most of them do, but she’s not immune either. Her pupils have dilated since she first saw me and a faint flush creeps down her throat like vines stretching in the sun. She may not like it, but she wants me.
Welcome to the club, beautiful.
She shakes her head, pulling her cellphone out of her clutch. The cellphone doesn’t belong with the dress or the new money. It’s from her old life, covered in stickers and that sequin shit girls like to put on everything
“Okay,” she nods quickly. “I am going to call 911. You are obviously experiencing brain damage.”
I drop my hand from her hair to her phone, my fingertips brushing against the inside of her wrist.
“Maybe I hit my head when you fell from Heaven and landed on top of me?” I offer.
A flash of amusement sparks in her eyes, but then, as if she remembers what I said this morning, how I violated every inch of her space, it dissipates like smoke in the wind.
This isn’t working, and I need to get it through her skull before it’s too late. Tomorrow starts a new day, and rules are rules. I lean in so close she has to tilt her head up to look at me.
“I want to fuck you like you’re the last meal before my execution,” I breathe.
Her jaw falls. She is obviously not used to anyone talking to her like this, but I don’t miss the flash of desire that darkens her gaze or how the pulse point at the base of her neck jumps wildly. Her mouth opens and closes as she searches for a retort. Much to my delight, it doesn’t take long.
“Did you lose your filter when you hit your head? Because you need a parental advisory warning.”
“Jesus.” I crack a genuine smile for what feels like the first time in ages. I lift my hand to run over her bottom lip. I’m invading her space, but she doesn’t back away. “You’ve got a mouth like a firecracker.”
“Only socially acceptable on major holidays?”
I shake my head. “Pretty but fucking dangerous.”
She smiles, and I’m certain I am doing things to her insides no one’s ever done before.
“Sit with me,” I say again.
She levels her gaze at me. “Is Molly invited?”
I scoff. “No.”
What the hell? Can’t the girl see that she’s chosen the wrong side?
“Then, here’s to not seeing you around, NC-17.” She pretends to scratch her eyebrow but clearly gives me the finger.
Fuck. I smirk as she sashays over to the table at which the Thing sits. I like this girl.
— Harlow —
It’s a coin toss between whether my heart will give out before my stomach makes a debut. Ian smelled like cardamom, earthy and slightly sweet, just like he did this morning. The heat blazing low in my belly wants to find out if he tastes just as decadent.
Fire is dangerous though. I should know better. He would devour me, incinerate me to nothing with his flames.
He wears a black suit and a slate-colored shirt that matches his eyes. He looks like a Calvin Klein model or a Hollywood movie star, but most of all, he looks like a fallen angel, so beautiful you sin just by looking at him.
Molly gives me a sad smile from her table. Two boys and a girl have joined her, but they are careful to not sit next to her.
As I make my way to my friend, my mind drifts back to Ian freakin’ Beckett.
He walks to the other side of the room, his strides languid and long. I feel him staring at me, even though I don’t look at him as I take my seat.
My mother and my grandmother had insisted on packing a large garment bag full of formal wear. I had laughed and asked if every weekend was prom. Then my grandmother had said Voclain required it, and I stopped laughing. I am grateful for it now though because anything less would have immediately resulted in a demerit, judging by the cackling boy at the table to the left of us who busted out laughing the moment Headmistress DuMonte’s hand wrapped around his khakis-and-polo clad wrist.
You would think he’d worn pajamas or a swimsuit as much as the students tittered when she dragged him from the ballroom and commanded he go change. Khakis are apparently the rich person’s version of mucking it up.
I take my seat beside Molly, and across the hall, Ian stares at me. A gorgeous redhead whispers in his ear. She’s wearing a navy blue dress that hugs every curve with matching sapphires at her ears and on her throat. They look good together, and I can’t help but wonder if we would look as beautiful. She smiles, her lips curling upward beautifully, but I can tell just by looking at her that under that pretty mask is an ugly thing.
A pretty girl stares across the table along with me. Two boys flank her sides, and her smile is kind. “Don’t let her face fool you. She’s so two-faced she sees double when she looks in the mirror.”
I laugh, and Molly even joins me as she pokes her salad with her fork.
“I’m Raven,” she says, greeting me with a little wave, which I return. Molly opens her mouth to say something, but the girl silences her with a finger. “I don’t want to hear it, Molly. We follow their stupid rules every other day. They can deal with it for one night.”
“But…” Molly begins.
Raven cuts her off. “But nothing. Aurora wants Daddy’s jet to go to Milan next weekend. It will buy us a night of peace.”
Molly resumes stabbing her salad.
“You’re sisters,” I breathe, and suddenly I see
