My head pounds with the kiss of regret as I wake the next morning.
The sights and smells around me are unfamiliar.
High ceilings. Filmy curtains. Giant balcony. Enormous bed.
This isn’t home.
I’m in one of The King’s lavish guest rooms.
After Jarod issued his not-so-subtle threat, there was no way I could stay in his house. I accepted the invitation to crash at the boys’ place, but it’s just a temporary solution. The next step is to get my own apartment and drag mom as far away from this mess as possible.
My body sinks into the bed as I think about my complicated life. Looks like I have to add my step-dad to the growing list of people who want to hurt me.
I close my eyes to hide from the sunlight. In the darkness, last night’s kiss explodes in my mind. I see it all. The way Zane’s mouth pressed into mine, burning, searing, taking over. The way his hand slipped up my shirt. The way I moaned. The way I never wanted it to stop.
“Last night meant nothing,” I mumble to myself, but the words are hollow. It doesn’t feel like ‘nothing’ at all.
Trying to run from my thoughts, I force myself to get up and start preparing for the day.
The masquerade ball is tonight.
There are a ton of details to take care of.
Still, I don’t just bound outside. I stop to take off my hair bonnet, run some product through my curls and slap on some lipgloss.
I’m just trying to be presentable, I tell myself.
Carefully, I wrap my fingers around the doorknob.
The hallway is clear.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I tiptoe outside and hasten toward the stairs.
At that moment, the bathroom door bursts open.
Smoke curls from the room and crawls behind Zane who’s stepping out wearing nothing but a towel.
I am not prepared.
Not in the slightest.
He’s all lean muscle, six-foot-plus of a walking work of art. Tattoos climb over arms and shoulders sculpted to perfection. His whole body is chiseled to the gods.
Large hands run through his hair, throwing tiny sprays of water and making his biceps flex. Cruel blue eyes light on me.
It takes a few seconds for my brain to reboot.
“Hey,” he says stoically.
“H-hey.” My heart is pounding hard, but I try to keep my tone stern. “Get dressed. We need to talk.”
“About what?” He flicks his hair back.
“I’ll tell you when you’re decent,” I say harshly, using my ‘teacher’ voice.
At the tone, every muscle in his face goes tense all at once.
Rebellion coils in his eyes. “I’d rather be indecent.” He stares pointedly at my shorts which are tiny and barely visible beneath my giant college T-shirt. “Come to my room.”
“Your room?”
“You can say whatever you want in private.”
For a second, my brain misfires, wondering what it would be like to talk with my body instead of my lips. To feel him over me. To wrap my fingers around him and make him moan. To…
“No.”
“No?” He arches a brow.
“I…”
“Grey.” He moves toward me.
I step back. “Here. Let’s talk here.”
“Talk about what?”
“Last night.”
His lips curl up cruelly. The hewn angles of his jaw hit the light, all rough strength and hard edges. “It looks like you want to do more than talk, tiger.”
My nostrils flare.
My heart is about to burst.
Zane has a right to be cocky. With a body like that, I’m sure he’s had more than his share of ogling girls.
Folding my arms over my chest, I say, “I’m being serious.”
“Mm.”
“Yesterday… it was an emotional night. We almost died.”
He steps closer to me.
My gaze slides down his broad chest, cut abs and the low-slung towel that teases at a sculpted pelvic bone.
Don’t watch.
It’s a fruitless ask.
I know what’s beneath that towel.
I want what’s beneath that towel.
“We also had that run-in with your dad.” I swallow hard. Heat throbs under my skin.
Zane looks at me, eyelashes bouncing sleepily, like a lion stretching after a long nap and going hunting for the easiest prey.
I keep walking back, heart skittering, antsy, breathless. “I apologize. It was wrong of me to… to kiss you. As your teacher, I shouldn’t have—”
“You shouldn’t, but you wanted to.”
“No.” But it doesn’t sound convincing. Not even to my own ears.
Zane takes my wrist and brings my hand to his chest. The contact of skin against skin makes us both inhale sharply.
I’m on edge. Stretched taut.
The fact that any of his brothers, Cadence or Viola can walk out and see us makes this moment feel even more fraught with tension.
“Touch me,” he growls.
“Zane.” I try to pull away, but he holds my hand captive, slowly dragging it down until it’s just above the line of his towel.
Warmth skims the edge of my fingertips.
I glance up and see his eyes lingering on my lips. I swipe my tongue across them unconsciously and his grip on me tightens, almost like he’s thinking about that kiss last night and wondering what it would be like if we took it further.
“I’m tired of fighting this,” he whispers. “I want to claim that tight little body of yours. Hard and fast. And then slow. So slow you’re begging me for more. I want you screaming my name. I want you groaning with need like you did that night in the hotel room when I devoured you against the balcony.”
I gasp out, my legs turning to jello and my entire body in flames.
His words are too crass. Too rude.
Too raw.
I need to think of something else to douse that heat.
Bunnies. Sick children. Horrific train accidents.
But it’s too late.
This chemistry is powerful.
I can see it. Feel it.
Every sensation of that night. The way he had me gripping the bedsheets. The way our bodies joined over and over and over again.
The wild, rough, forceful brutality to his kisses. To his invasion. Shadows stripped away in the darkness. The thick pulsing need sated by grabbing hands and whipping hips. The freedom of no names, no ages, no responsibilities.
I tasted reckless abandon for the first time in my life and I was hooked.
Then everything turned to chaos.
Student.
Step-brother.
Off-limits.
Zane Cross is the very definition of ruin.
One touch and he could destroy me.
My life.
My investigation.
Everything I’ve worked so hard for.
His head lowers slowly, his heated blue gaze stealing my breath away.
I turn my face at the last minute.
Shivering, I moan, “Zane… we can’t.”
His fingers grip my chin and he hauls my face up to his. Those rough hands are strong and almost painful on my jaw.
I squirm, but his body pins me into the wall, harder than granite, lashing up a fiery heat that’s nearly violent.
“We can,” he says.
“We shouldn’t.”
“But we will.” He leans forward, his lips poised at my ear. The scent of his body wash coils around me, lingering and mixing with the musk of my sweat and desire. “I’m going to have you, Grace Jamieson,” Zane says, his warm breath tracing over my tingling lips. His eyes are a dark shadow of seduction. “And no one is going to stop me.”
I feel my inhibitions breaking apart. All the desires and wants that have been gathering since our first night together collide in a storm. My body aches, throbbing in time to my errant heartbeat.
My head tilts up.
His sharp mouth curves into a smirk.
At that moment, a door slams open.
Finn steps out.
I push Zane off, horror mixing with the lust that made me powerless to resist him.
Zane’s brother gives us a bored look and crosses the hallway to the bathroom without a word.
An exhale skitters out of my lips. Heart screaming and body as hot as a human bonfire, I rush away from the beast who just made his intentions known.
No one is going to stop me.
Including me.
That’s what he meant.
It’s a threat.
A promise.
A vile and enticing challenge.
I’m in deep crap.
Because now I see that…
Zane Cross isn’t going to be my ruin.
The cocky bastard already is.
Everyone gathers in the kitchen. Dutch is sitting at the head of the table, fingers clenched and eyes glaring a hole into the fancy glass surface.
Cadence is at his right, her eyes full of worry.
Sol is in the chair next to her, his fingers drumming the table. There are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well.
Finn is sitting beside me. He hasn’t said much. Not that he usually does. If he has any thoughts about what he saw in the hallway earlier—his brother practically naked and pinning me to the wall—he’s keeping them to himself.
Zane is leaning against the counter, head cocked to one side, dark hair sliding across his forehead. He’s now dressed in an undershirt that shows off arms corded with muscle and ink. Those loose grey sweatpants do nothing to hide his powerful hips and thighs…
Predatory blue eyes meet mine and he smiles that dark, seductive smile of his that tells me I’m definitely about to be his prey and I might even like it.
I glance away, shaken.
“Tonight is the most important piece of our plan,” Dutch says. “We can’t afford for any step to go wrong.”
“Where are we on the details?” Sol asks, eyes hooded beneath thick lashes.
Zane makes his drumstick dance over his finger. “I already contacted the caterers.”
“And I have the camera blockers,” Finn adds.
“I’m picking up the van later,” Dutch says. “I might be late.” His eyes slice through Zane’s. “Don’t start the party without me.”
“Relax, Dutch.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No, you’re wound so tight you’re about to pop. Since when were you so anxious?”
Cadence sighs. “It’s me. I’m nervous and overthinking.”
“This isn’t like last summer,” Dutch says harshly.
“It better not be,” Finn grumbles.
“Cadey reminded me that security will be tighter because of the dance. We might have chosen the wrong night to break into the basement.”
“The masquerade ball will cover our tracks. Nothing can go wrong,” Zane says.
Dutch’s face is still tight. “Don’t get too cocky. If anyone spots us and tells Harris, we’ll lose our advantage. He already went on a power trip after suspending us. He’ll be bolder next time.”
“Harris isn’t the only one who’ll come after us if we get caught,” Finn says.
Dutch looks at him.
Sol frowns. “Who else do we have to worry about?”
“Dad.”
Zane rolls his eyes. “We always have to watch out for dad.”
“Sloane’s case.” Finn’s handsome face tightens with secrets. “I think he knows something. Something he doesn’t want us finding out. The way he spoke to Miss Jamieson at the dinner… he tipped his hand. He’s worried.”
“You think he was a part of The Grateful Project?” Cadey asks.
The boys go deathly silent. They’ve said nothing but negative things about their father, and yet seem reluctant to admit that he went that far. I guess a controlling man on a perpetual power trip is more palatable than one who was manipulating and exploiting underage girls for… who knows what?
Zane flips his stick around. “If dad was in on it, it’s better for us. We can take him down with the evidence. Kill two birds with one stone.”
“If dad is involved, it won’t be that simple,” Finn shoots back.
“Right now, we’re focused on getting those boxes out of the basement. If dad was involved or not, we’ll find out then,” Dutch says.
Cadence clears her throat. “Since Viola is sleeping, I’ll make breakfast and then wake her up to help us shop for dresses. Miss Jamieson—I mean, Grey…” Cadence blushes. “Can I call you Grey when we’re not at school?”
“Oh… sure…”
“We’re thinking of leaving around eleven. Is that okay with you?”
“Um… leaving to go where?”
“Do you have an outfit for tonight?” Cadey asks.
“I’m not going to the dance. I already told admin that I wasn’t feeling well, so they’re not expecting me.”
“I think you should come,” Cadence says. “It’s too risky if you show up with the caterers. What if someone recognizes you and asks why you’re working back there?”
I hesitate.
“At least look at the dresses? It’ll be fun,” she adds.
I clear my throat and carefully avoid Zane’s gaze. “Are the boys coming on our shopping trip?”
“No.”
I sigh in relief. An afternoon away from Zane’s intense caresses sounds like heaven.
“Then I’m in.”
