I can’t make sense of him.
Dutch went to all that trouble to contact me.
He chased me into the night.
And now he has me alone.
We’re in an elevator. My skin is buzzing from being this close to him, but he’s staying a respectful distance away.
If I weren’t in this red wig, would he have such self-control? I close my eyes and picture the times he threw me over his shoulder in school. Or when he backed me up against the coffee machines. Dutch never seems to know what personal space is when he’s with the other me.
The real me.
Awkwardly, I lick my lips and glance at him. He’s dressed in all black, as if he wants to blend into the shadows. But a guy that looks like him could never blend in anywhere. His eyes are two bright, golden suns peering out of a face crafted to perfection. His body is a weapon of mass destruction. Tats climb up and disappear under the sleeve of his shirt. His muscles bulge when he folds his arms over his chest.
Dutch glances at me and holds my eyes. There’s no hint of discomfort. He’s cocky as always. Annoyingly at ease.
This isn’t what I pictured when he told me we were going to a hotel. I expected a key card and a beeping sensor. I expected his hands all over me, finding the soft places, the quiet places. Exploring parts of me that I’d never exposed to anyone before.
Didn’t we both know what his invitation meant? Didn’t I accept it?
I was ready. Willing, even.
Anything to escape the pounding dread that’s gathering like storm clouds in my heart.
The darkness I’ve run from my whole life is breathing down my neck. It crept out of the shadows when I saw my brother. Rick’s eyes when he admitted to not being able to afford our rent and his is embedded in my mind.
Yet another soul crushed by mom’s selfishness and irresponsibility. Yet another weight I have to bear now that I know the truth. How much more until it buries me? Until I’m a mangled mess?
My skin feels too tight. Like I’m about to pop out of it. My heart is hammering behind my ribs. I know what I’m running from. Mom’s ghost. She’s haunting me tonight like a bad spirit. Dark shadows in every corner. Secrets threatening to spring out like snakes.
I grab Dutch’s hand before we get to the rooftop. “What are we doing up here?”
What I mean to say is… why aren’t we in one of those hotel rooms?
I don’t want to feel right now.
I need him to get rid of my thoughts.
I need to feel his skin so I forget that mine doesn’t fit anymore.
Isn’t he the prince of Redwood? He’s probably popped more cherries than he can count on his fingers and toes. Are we really walking up here to gaze at stars and talk about our feelings?
I don’t want to do that. I want to escape into something that’ll take my breath away.
“You’ll see,” he says, smiling slightly. Taking my hand, he leads me forward.
On the rooftop, lanterns strung from lights flutter in the breeze. Flower bushes lift their faces to the sky. In the center of it all sits a grand piano. Moonlight glints against the shiny black paint.
I stop in my tracks. “How… how did you get this up here?”
Dutch releases my hand and takes a seat behind it. Without a word, he starts to play. His fingers are long and slender, perfect for the piano. They drift over the keys without hesitation.
I recognize the melody. It’s a slowed down version of the piece I did at the show case just before I started Redwood Prep.
Uncertainty grips me by the throat when I realize I’m in way over my head. I thought Dutch would touch me physically, but he’s gone much darker. Much deeper. Because he couldn’t be satisfied with just taking my body tonight. He’s trying to touch my heart.
As he continues to play, I approach the piano. The buzzing that I felt between us in the elevator jumps another degree.
With his head bowed and his eyes closed, he looks like a sculpture come to life. Warm. Magnetic. Alive. He’s nothing like the cold, obnoxious Dutch that prowls the halls of Redwood Prep.
Tonight, his guard is lowered. There’s darkness, yes. But there’s something else. Brokenness. Emptiness. A longing for more. He’s letting me see the rawness that lingers just beneath the surface.
Something shifts inside me.
“I didn’t know you could play piano,” I say.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says with a low laugh.
I smirk. “You’d be surprised how wrong you are.”
“Tell me then. Who do you think I am?” he challenges.
“Someone who always gets his way.” I take the seat beside him and begin a duet. With my fingers drawing out the music, teasing a new layer to the melody, the piece turns full and haunting. “Someone who doesn’t take no for an answer,” I add. I think of what he did to Mr. Mulliez and to me. “Someone who isn’t afraid to be cruel.”
“You think I’m evil.”
“I think it’s easier to choose darkness than light.” I play the dark keys to prove my point. “That way, rather than being hurt, you’re the one doing the hurting.”
He takes one hand off the keyboard and I impulsively fill in the missing notes.
“You’re right. I’m not a good person.” Dutch’s eyes are hot on my face. “But if there’s any light left inside me, it’s all drawn to you.”
A burst of air hits my lungs and I look up at him, suspending the chord.
“You’re in my head.” He keeps one hand on the keyboard, stands and places his other arm around me, playing with me between his arms. “And what I hate even more,” Dutch whispers into my hair, “is that I can’t tell if I’m inside yours.”
A sick feeling wrenches my stomach. Because… he is.
I have no idea when things started to change, but I’m drawn to him. To the brokenness in him. Maybe there’s a dark, twisted part of me that thrives on it. That loves how even someone like Dutch—rich, handsome, and with the world at his fingertips—can be impaled by life.
“Tell me you don’t feel this too.” His breath hits the shell of my ear, sending skitters of desire racing up my spine.
It’s a challenge.
My eyebrows tighten. “You must be very popular with the girls if this is how you repay your debts.”
His gaze slides down to the piano. A low chuckle rumbles through his chest and since he’s right behind me, I feel every vibration. My heart does a strange flip, but I maintain my cold expression and keep my focus on the music.
I play softly, choosing my own chords rather than the ones that belong to this piece.
“No other girl comes close to you,” he says with dark confidence.
Caught off guard by the frank confession, I sweep my gaze in his direction.
“Now that your doubts have been addressed,” he continues, his lips skating from my ear to my cheek, “do you have any other questions for me?”
My body feels languid. I press my fingers to the piano, but I’ve already forgotten what song we’re playing. All I can think about is the memory of our last kiss. The heat of his mouth on mine. Rough callouses on my sensitive flesh. A wet tongue sliding below my collar.
He’s lying.
There’s another girl.
Me.
My heart stutters. “Why me?”
Why not Cadence Without Makeup? Is it because he’s into red heads? Or green eyes? Is it because I’m a fantasy?
“Because your music speaks to me.” He leaves one hand on the piano and the other presses a chord into my back. “Because,” he shifts his hands lower “when I hear you play, it makes me feel. It’s been a long freaking time since I’ve felt anything. It’s been forever since I’ve felt everything.” His hands skate back to the piano and he finishes the note that I’ve left hanging. “You force me to face the truth, even if the truth is more cruel than I could ever be.”
His touch is a drug. I’m melting into him, seeking the warmth of his chest. The hardness of his abs. The promise of his kiss.
Still, I make a half-ditched effort to keep control. “How would I even know if you were telling the truth?” I ask.
His laughter is low and gripping. The music shifts again. My fingers are digging deeper into the keys. It produces a different kind of sound. One full of decadence, as if we’re approaching something thrilling but dangerous.
“I guess you’d have to call my bluff,” he says.
“And if I did?” I turn my face to the side, breathing heavily.
He lowers himself over my shoulder. Abandoning the piano, his coarse fingers grip my chin.
My heart races until I’m sure it’ll burst out of my chest.
Dutch leans down and speaks right against my lips. “Then I would have to show you how much I want you.”
I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until his gaze drops to my lips and I exhale on impact. The moment he sees my mouth part, his amber eyes go dark. Then his lips crash down on mine.
Every vein in my body comes alive at the feel of his mouth parting, caressing, and teasing.
My hands leave the keyboard completely and band around his waist to drag him closer. He holds still, lingering, as if he wants me to get used to him being there. As if he’s giving me time to push him away if this isn’t really what I want.
He’s dragging out the moments.
Torture.
I need friction so much it’s tearing me apart. I want to scream with it.
“Wait,” I whisper.
He eases back immediately, looking down at me.
“Don’t touch my hair,” I demand. Then I surge forward and kiss him.
Even if all he can offer is pain, I want to get lost in Dutch tonight.
DUTCH
I press my mouth to hers and hold steady.
I just want to feel her for a heartbeat. Two.
Then she kisses me the same as she did in the changing room.
My resolve to be a gentleman shatters.
She gasps when I grab her hips and thrust her on top of the piano. Discordant notes play. Her fingers press into the keys while she wildly tries to find her balance.
I steady her with a hand on the back of her neck, pushing her into me so I can deepen the kiss. Her hand pushes against the keys as she meets my passion with her own.
More disjointed notes burst from the piano.
Pure chaos.
The tension before the crescendo.
“This is so…” she sucks on my bottom lip, “disrespectful… to the piano.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I breathe her in. “Be a bad girl tonight.”
My thoughts dissolve as my tongue explores her mouth. She groans low in her throat and I grip her tighter, needing to hear that sound again. Needing to be closer to her.
It’s not enough. I need more of her skin.
I try to step between her legs and bump into the lid of the keyboard instead. Frustrated, I grunt and ease back to assess.
She looks up at me, eyes half-closed and mouth wet. Moonlight shines on top of the red hair that’s off limits. Her green eyes are dark and sultry, like a cat about to pounce.
She’s sexy as hell, but I realize her perch on the keys isn’t the best for what I need to do. Determined, I grab her thighs. Her squeal of surprise makes my heart trip.
Lifting her higher, I set her on the desk of the piano.
“Better?” I growl.
She swings around so her legs are dangling off the side. “Maybe.”
Heat sweeps over my entire body. Wrapping my fingers around one ankle, I tug decisively until she’s at the edge of the piano and step between her legs.
“You’re a hard girl to please,” I mumble.
Her eyes are dark. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re not doing too bad right now.”
My pulse hammers in my chest when she curls her leg against my body to pin me in place.
I crash into her again. Then, ripping my lips away from her mouth, I press kisses down her neck while my hands work to free her from her blouse.
Her fingers skate against my scalp and over my back. A burning sensation skitters everywhere she touches.
Throwing aside her shirt, I chase the trail of goosebumps prickling down her shoulder. Her skin is softer than a lily. I need this so much I’m almost going blind.
Mine.
Mine.
She has to understand that after tonight.
Her fingers grip and tug at my hair as I remove her bra. The taste of her is familiar. So are the sounds she makes.
Her little pants make my tongue move faster and I focus on the moment. It’s just her in my head. No one else. She can’t be compared to Cadence. I won’t allow it.
When I feel her slender hands tugging on my T-shirt hem, I release her just long enough to tear my T-shirt off. Her eyes widen, but I don’t give her time to admire my tattoos. She’ll trace each of them, know them all by heart, by the time I’m done with her.
When we kiss again, breaths damn-near erratic, I guide her hand to feel me. Electricity skitters everywhere her hands touch. I guide her over my pecs. My abs. Lower. Lower.
She rips a groan from me and then she smiles like she just found a new toy.
I growl out a warning, “Careful now.”
Her eyes are flashing with lust. One side of her lips curls up in a sexy little smirk. I hiss when she cups my face in one hand and presses her full, red lips against my pulse, as if she’s a vampire trying to suck the life out of me. It drives me freaking insane.
My mouth collides with hers and I tip her backward until the upper half of her body is flat on the piano desk. Her eyes fall shut when I unclip the button of her pants.
My desperation makes my hands tremble.
I’ve never felt like this before. I’d give it all to her.
Everything.
Let her sink into all the places where only music was allowed.
The zipper is loud when I drag it down. The sound makes her bite down on her bottom lip.
“You okay?” I ask, noticing.
“Yeah.” Her voice trembles.
I bend over her so my upper body is flattening her on top of the piano and my hip is pinning in her place. The feel of her naked chest pricking into mine makes my head spin.
“Have you done this before?” I ask gravely.
She swallows and her delicate throat bobs.
I slide my fingers into hers and pin her wrists on either side of her head. The surface of the piano is cold and I rub on her for friction and warmth.
“Answer me.”
“N-no,” she admits, her face flushing an even deeper red.
Damn it. I don’t deal with virgins. They place way too much stock on their first times. Build up fantasies in their heads about spending their lives with me.
But there’s only a moment of hesitation before I throw those worries away.
“You want to do this with me?” I growl.
She gives me a nervous nod.
I didn’t think she could make me break any more of my rules, but here I am. Eager as a freaking bee to get into a honey trap.
I’m rolling her jeans down when my phone vibrates in my pocket. At first, I ignore it. I’m concentrating.
But the phone doesn’t stop ringing.
I squeeze my eyes shut, annoyed as hell.
“Maybe it’s important,” she says.
I look into her face, unsure if she’s trying to push me away so she doesn’t have to do this.
Her hand disappears into my jeans like she owns it and I stare at her with a dazed expression when she takes my phone right out of my pocket and shoves it at me.
I want to throw that buzzing thing off the roof, spread her legs and play her like an instrument until she screams louder than my guitar.
But I can’t.
Because the name flashing across the screen is my brother’s.
Finn wouldn’t call me nonstop if it wasn’t an emergency.
I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Dutch.”
I stiffen instantly. My brother’s never been the cheerful one of the three of us, but he’s also never sounded that unhinged.
Redhead must sense something in my expression because she sits up right away and closes her legs. The monster inside me grunts in displeasure. I want her to keep those legs open. I want to be her first. I want to get inside her pretty little body the way she’s gotten into my head.
Instead, I grip the phone tighter.
“It’s Sol, man.” Finn sounds panicked. “He tried to commit suicide.”
Everything inside me shuts down.
I can’t wrap my head around those words. Sol? Suicide?
“Zane’s at the hospital,” Finn says. “I’m heading there now too.”
My heart drops out of my chest. “I’m on my way.”
When I turn around, Redhead’s already hopped down from the piano. She’s bending over to collect her clothes.
I help her out, handing her the bra that somehow landed on the piano bench. Then I locate my shirt and drag it over my head.
“I have to go,” I tell her.
“I gathered that. Is something wrong?” She looks concerned rather than shy.
“Yeah. It’s…”
Sol… suicide.
I can’t even finish the sentence. There’s no way Sol would hurt himself. No way.
The world is spinning. Guilt chews me alive. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gotten him into this mess over summer break, if I hadn’t abandoned him, if I hadn’t taken my time to deal with Cadence, none of this would have happened.
As I’m spinning out, something grounds me.
I glance down.
Pale fingers slide over my hand and hold me tight. For a second, I just stare at her hand.
I’m not the guy who does the walk on the beach, holding hands crap. But her hand in mine feels right, so I don’t pull away.
We sprint to the elevator and I use my free hand to dial Zane on my phone.
He finally answers. “Dutch.”
“How’s Sol? What are they saying?”
“He’s okay for now, but it’s bad, man.” His voice cracks and it sounds like he might be on the verge of a mental breakdown.
I know my brother and when Zane feels helpless, he does one of two things—bang his drums or bang a chick. Since he’s stuck at the hospital, there’s no possibility of doing either of those things.
“Calm down—”
“Don’t freaking tell me to calm down,” Zane explodes. “Sol tried to kill himself. And if he’d succeeded, it would have been our fault.”
I glance at Redhead. She’s staring up at me. I know she’s probably hearing Zane’s loud screams and wondering what’s going on.
I squeeze her hand and then I turn slightly away. “You’re right. I’ve been dragging my feet with Cadence. But I’m done with that.”
Redhead’s hand slips out of mine.
“What are we going to do?” Zane asks.
“What I should have done from the start.” I huff out a breath, my mind alert and churning with all my next steps. “You stay with Sol and his family. I’ll be there when I’ve handled business.”
Cadence has been tearing me up inside, but I can’t afford to be hesitant any longer.
Sol’s life is at stake.
The elevator opens.
I gesture for Redhead to leave first. Her eyes are wide and her face has gone pale. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but my phone rings again.
It’s Finn.
“Any update?” My brother asks. “I’m stuck in traffic.”
I give him the update and then add, “I’ve decided. It’s time we deal with Cadence for good.”
I pause. It feels like someone’s glaring at me but, when I turn to see if Redhead is watching, she quickly glances away.
“What do you want us to do?” Finn asks.
I step through the glass doors of the hotel and jog down the stairs with Redhead beside me.
“We get her scholarship revoked.” I lower my voice. I don’t want to scare Redhead, but this needs to happen. Tonight. “Get the IT guy to flub her grades. I’ll tell Christa to get her dad involved.”
“You think that’ll work?”
“There’s no way she’s getting out of this.” I slip the phone back into my pocket and touch Redhead’s shoulder. Even in the midst of my panic and fear, there’s a hint of affection for her. “I’m sorry about tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”
Her face turned, she waves me away. “Go.”
Something doesn’t feel right, but I don’t have time to follow up on it. My steps are slow as I back away from her, but she doesn’t even look at me as she hurries around the corner.
I’ll definitely make it up to her, I promise myself.
And then I turn and sprint straight to my car.
