“Let’s go. Dig in,” Liam bellows from behind me.
The muscles in my jaw tense, from the strength produced throughout my body, as I lean in and pull back.
Donovan’s eyes meet mine, and I focus in on her. All my determination, my power, all of it, directed right at her. The longer we stay locked on each other, the more her breath begins to mimic my rhythm, rising and falling in unison. Can you feel that, Cherry?
Each movement increases the intensity, and I feel hyper focused, unstoppable. My mind is on a singular goal. I’m fueled by some animalistic need to make her feel this, the pure fucking bliss of this experience. Her lips part, and I want to lean in, thrust my tongue inside, and explore. Instead, an arrogant smirk graces my face, and I break my eyes from hers, letting them drift over her body. She feels this too. I can tell because everywhere my eyes touch her skin pricks with goose bumps.
I want to touch you.
Grunts and hard breaths come from behind me, and Donovan’s eyes shift to Liam, holding there for a moment, then back to mine. Heat flushes her cheeks, making my dick jump. Dirty thoughts for a dirty girl. A growl pulls from my throat with each thrust of my oar into the water, and she swallows hard.
I want more of that reaction.
I want to grind harder, push more, make her fucking feel it.
I want to watch her eyes stay hooded, and her teeth remain embedded in that suckable bottom lip. Donovan’s hands grip the wood harder, and my eyes drop to her lap. The tiny plaid skirt she’s wearing has blown up her legs. The only thing keeping her decent is the material squeezed between the apex of her creamy thighs, right where I know she tastes the sweetest.
“Big push” is yelled out, breaking my concentration, and I know that we only have a few yards to go.
We all dig in harder, tugging and grunting, until we’re physically spent, dropping back to lie splayed out as we cross over the invisible finish line. I sit up quickly and reach out with my free hand and slowly pull her skirt from the middle of her thighs and spread it back over her legs. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do since it’s my fault it’s raised and maybe even wet.
“Was it worth it?” I question, my sweaty chest still heaving as my fingers drift off her thighs.
Donovan licks her lips, brushing her hair from her face, and leans back, tipping her head up. “More than.”
I had to take two showers, the minute I got home. One to wash off my day and the other to wash off the memory of Donovan. Fuck if I can’t get that damn girl out of my head. My fingers crawl out and touch the screen of my phone, debating whether or not to call her. If I do, it’ll give away who I am, but I’m tempted. She bailed the minute we let her off the boat, but I could still smell her cherry lip gloss after she left, that and her sex—cherries and cream.
The phone in my hand feels heavy as I tap it gently against my desk and squint my eyes as I stare down. She likes this game. And I like her. It’s not time to clue her in, but I need to see her tonight.
Damn.
My head is foggy, and I can’t make sense of what’s going on anymore. But what I do know is that I like Donovan and I want to keep her around—hand in mine, eyes on me. I type out a quick message and grab my shoes.
Me: Go to Levain’s bakery, for her favorite. I’ll meet you at her place in twenty.
Liam: I like the way you think.
I pull on my sneakers and stand, making my way out of the door. A grin graces my face knowing that she’s going to be giddy over what we’re bringing her.
Taking two stairs at a time down to the main floor, I cut a corner around the railing toward where the garage is located. The house is silent, seeing as it’s only Caroline and myself, and since we’re barely speaking, it’s especially quiet. And most of the staff are either gone for the night or in their quarters. That’s the regular schedule after we’ve had dinner, but as I walk down the darkened hall, a light calls my attention.
My father’s office.
Nobody uses his office, or even enters it when he’s gone. So that means Evan must be home. This should be fun. I rap on the door before I push it open, knowing that will piss him off, but not caring if it does. He’s the kind of bastard who expects people to cower once he’s given a direction, and I stopped doing that a long time ago.
“Grey.”
“Evan.”
He doesn’t look up as he says my name. Instead, he keeps reading from a file folder as I enter the room and walk toward the sizable Chippendale desk he’s sitting behind. Two plush chairs are situated in front, but I choose to stand. Placing my hand on the back of one, I push my keys into my pocket, hearing them jangle. His dark eyes finally lift, giving me a bored countenance, as he leans back in his throne-like leather club chair.
“Isn’t this a tad bit late for you to be heading out? Children should be in bed. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”
Dick. My hand draws across the cool, smooth fabric of the chair as I smirk.
“I haven’t been a child for a long time. Granted, you missed much of my youth, but I would’ve thought you’d have a firm eye on when I’m turning eighteen.”
Silence. Usually, we spar for longer before really twisting the knife, but I’m in a hurry. Let’s go, Dad. Might as well get how much you hate me out of the way now.
A sneer graces his indelicate features as his finger taps the desk. “How could I forget the date of our family’s destruction?”
Our? Last I checked I’m the sole heir to this fortune. The moment my mother died, she made sure of it. Now it’s just a countdown to my eighteenth birthday—the day I become the majority shareholder, and he becomes just some dick who got fucked by another McCallister. Me being the second one.
“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Father.”
I can’t help but sarcastically enunciate the word father, because that’s not something he’s ever been to me, and my mother’s death just highlighted what he’d always felt toward me—competition. Talk about a hard pill to swallow when you’re a kid—knowing that your father hates you. Or that he would’ve gotten rid of me if he could’ve, for his own selfish gain.
It’s still hard.
“That’s not the only vote you won’t get. If I have it my way, you’ll lose many.”
His hand drifts over the manila folder in front of him, and I can see his thoughts swirling. What are you up to, Evan? When he looks at me, it’s smug and arrogant, but there’s a hint of something I can’t quite place. Indecision? Fear? No. It’s bullshit. He wants to sell me on the idea he has control.
My scrutiny lowers to the folder and back to him. I’ll play, Evan.
“You’ve been at this for years. Why not accept the inevitable and walk away? It’s not without a handsome compensation.”
I turn away, not waiting for his answer, and walk toward the bookshelves that line the wall.
“All I need is one fuckup, Grey. Then you’re done.”
My shoulders jump as I huff out a laugh, but it’s all for show. My father is actively seeking to ruin my future, and he’s unashamed of it. That’s not something that makes me want to laugh.
“Is that the best you’ve got? That I’ll rue the day? You sound like a cartoon villain.”