I’m sprawled across his warm body, a few hours later, listening to the comforting beat of his heart, watching his chest inflate and deflate in slumber, wishing I could stay here in this little beach cabin with this beautiful stranger for eternity.
But I know that’s only wishful thinking. A fantasy I can’t entertain. Bringing anyone into my life risks theirs, and that’d be a poor way of rewarding this man who has given me a night I will cherish for the rest of my life.
Although I hate to leave him like this, it’s for the best.
He can’t know who I am or understand the implications of what we’ve just done.
Reluctantly, I ease out of his warm bed and his life, feeling a pang of overwhelming sadness as I get dressed, preparing myself to leave him behind. He looks peaceful in slumber, like a tattooed guardian angel, arriving at the perfect moment to help put things in perspective.
If I’d followed through tonight, they would have won, and I know my dead mother wouldn’t want that for me.
I’m stronger than that.
I might be a pawn in a game I don’t want to play, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win.
I need to strategize.
To plan my victory so I can escape the tortured future lying in wait for me.
Determination surges through my veins, and I smile adoringly at the beautiful man who has given me so much more than his body. “Thank you,” I whisper, blowing him a kiss. I wish I could taste his lips one final time, but I don’t want to wake him. It’s better that I leave like this.
My hand is curled around the door handle when I spy a pencil and sketchpad on the coffee table. Without stopping to second-guess myself, I tear a strip off the end of a blank page and pen a brief note.
You can’t possibly know this, but you saved my life in more ways than one tonight. You have reminded me why it’s important to survive. Given me the strength to fight for what I want. And you have given me a precious memory I will hold close until my dying breath. Thank you. A.
As I close the door and head back toward my car, back to a life I despise, I know I’ll be reliving this special night every day for the rest of my life.
But I had no idea that sleeping with this stranger would set certain things in motion. Things that couldn’t be undone. And I certainly had no idea that I’d come to hate him and desperately resent giving him my virginity.
CHAPTER ONE
“GET YOUR HANDS off me!” I shove at Trent’s broad shoulders, pushing him back a couple steps. He immediately reclaims the space, thrusting his face into mine. “This fucking frigid act is getting old, darling,” he sneers, enunciating the last word so I’m left in no doubt of his derision.
Aesthetically, Trent is a gorgeous guy—golden-blond hair, striking blue-gray eyes, strong masculine jaw, high cheekbones, and an impressive body that is ripped in all the right places—but the person behind the exterior is repulsive and totally beyond redemption.
Believe me, I’ve tried. Once I realized I was stuck with the douche, I did my utmost to bring out the best in him.
But you can’t extract something that doesn’t exist.
Trent isn’t a nice guy.
Trent isn’t a decent guy.
Trent embodies everything wrong with the society we live in and everything I want to run screaming from.
But I have no control over my life, and I’m on this speeding train regardless of how badly I want to jump off.
His hands dig into my hips, and he thrusts his obvious arousal into my stomach. I work hard to swallow my disgust. Although it’s tempting to push his buttons more, he’s been drinking, and I remember what happened the last time we got into it when he was hammered. A shiver tiptoes up my spine at the memory of him shoving his cock into my mouth while he had me pinned on the bed, his ass pressing down on my chest, as he fucked my mouth with no mercy.
How can a guy look so angelic and be so evil? Trent grinds against me, pawing at my chest and slobbering all over my neck.
At first glance, his mouth is utterly kissable until he opens it, shattering the illusion with the venom that regularly spews from his mouth.
Trent is the stereotypical rich kid. Spoiled, arrogant, and smarmy. He has sailed through life, handed everything on a silver platter, and he thinks his shit doesn’t stink. Most everyone trips over themselves to give him everything he needs, especially the posse of women who fight for a temporary place in his bed, and his ego is floating somewhere in orbit.
Which is why he can’t fathom my lack of interest and my disdain. Especially since we’re engaged and scheduled to walk up the aisle next year.
“Stop!” I push his chest, forcing his vile mouth away from me. “My father’s home, and all it’ll take is one scream,” I threaten.
He narrows his eyes, and his mouth twists into a malevolent grin. “Have you forgotten Daddy Dearest is the one who brokered our marriage deal? Or the reason he’ll do anything to ensure it goes ahead?” He takes a step forward, reclaiming the space between us again.
I prod one finger in his firm chest. “Have you forgotten your father was the one who insisted I remain a virgin until our wedding night?” I take his evil grin and throw him back a smug one. “Or has he changed a generations-old rule because you can’t keep your grabby hands to yourself?” I tilt my chin up. “Call one of your fuck buddies. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to suck your dick.”
Trent smirks as he extracts his cell, holding it to his ear. I fold my arms across my chest, waiting for the charade to play out.
The funny thing is, he genuinely thinks I care.
News flash—I couldn’t care less.
“I need your ass,” he barks into the phone, not even attempting to disguise it’s anything but a booty call. “No, Rochelle. I literally mean I need your ass. I’m filling all holes tonight, baby. Be ready.”
Asshole. He knows how I feel about that bitch.
Grinding my teeth, I work hard to keep my annoyance at bay.
I know Trent fucks around. A lot. And, I honestly couldn’t give two shits. I shudder to think what’d happen if he didn’t have his fuck buddies. Although Christian Montgomery made it a condition of the marital agreement negotiated with my father when I was ten—yes, ten—that I remain a virgin until my wedding night, Trent has been badgering me for sex for the past two years. I’d rather skin myself alive than willingly give myself to him, so I’ve spent two years fighting him off.
Occasionally, I’ll feel generous and blow him.
Usually, he’ll just take what he wants.
But he’s a selfish bastard with no regard for my needs, so it normally means he fucks my mouth, forcing me to swallow, while he tugs at my breasts, sometimes making them bleed.
It’s much worse when he’s been drinking, so I have some idea of what lies in wait for Rochelle when he arrives at her place.
But I can’t find it within myself to feel sympathy. Rochelle is the closest I have to an arch-nemesis at Rydeville High, and Trent knows how much we despise one another, which is why he deliberately called her in my presence.
Keeping up appearances is nonnegotiable if you’re a descendant of one of the founding families. It’s something ingrained in Trent, Drew, Charlie, and me from the time we were little. And my father is the perfect example of how to act like a raging manwhore behind closed doors while presenting as the perfect law-abiding citizen.