A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(64)

“For what class?”

“Psychology. My partner is Crew Lancaster.” I close my eyes at my mistake. Why did I mention him again? For the thrill of saying his name? Knowing what we shared earlier? Despite my shame over what he did to me, I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s forefront in my mind—what we did together is too. And while I know I shouldn’t allow myself to be found alone with him again, I know deep in my heart, I will most likely let it happen.

Maybe I can’t be trusted. Maybe I’m too gullible, too easily swayed to be left to my own devices.

“Why does his name keep coming up lately?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s my friend?”

Daddy is quiet for a moment, and I’m about to say something when he beats me to it.

“I very much doubt Crew Lancaster is your friend, Pumpkin. He’s a hot-blooded boy just like the rest of them, chasing after a sweet, innocent girl.”

I remember the sensation of Crew’s hot mouth on my neck, the way he licked my ear, and for the first time in a while, I have to agree with my father. “It’s just a project, Daddy.”

“I know, Pumpkin. Just remember, you’re too young to get serious about boys right now. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I know.” I have heard those same words repeated back to me so many times over the years, I can say them right along with him.

“They only have one thing on their mind anyway,” he continues.

Hmm. Maybe I do too.

“I don’t like the Lancaster family. You can’t trust them.” His tone turns bitter.

“What have they ever done to you?” I’m genuinely curious, though knowing him, he won’t really tell me.

“We’re in the same business. His older brothers have a real estate firm and they’re shady.” He clears his throat. “None of that should concern you. Just—stay away from Crew Lancaster.”

“I have to work on my project with him,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“You know what I mean.” Daddy sighs, sounding exhausted. “I’ve got to go. Have a good night. Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“Love you too.” I end the call before he does, tossing my phone aside before I flop backward on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Frustration ripples through me, reminding me that I’m not making the best choices, but are they really that bad?

So what if I snuck into a room with Crew and kissed him. Let him touch me. Let him slip his hand inside my panties…

God, how am I going to face him tomorrow in class? After what we’ve done? It’s going to be weird, looking into his eyes and knowing what he did to me. How much I enjoyed it.

Did he think I looked dumb, clinging to the window and practically begging him to keep touching me? Does he think I’m a pathetic little creature who’s suddenly addicted to his touch, his mouth?

Because that’s how I feel. Addicted. Overwhelmed. Needy.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’ve got this. I can face him tomorrow and act like nothing ever happened between us.

I can.





TWENTY-FIVE





CREW





I’m waiting out in front of Wren’s dorm building, wrapped up in my thickest coat, a beanie, gloves and a scarf, and I’m still cold as fuck. The sun shines brightly overhead, doing little to warm my bones. The entire campus is covered in a thick layer of snow and thank Christ someone got up at the crack of dawn to shovel the walkways.

She still hasn’t come out yet, and I’m getting worried. The bell is going to ring soon. She’s usually heading for the school entrance by now, and my friends won’t stop texting me, asking me where I’m at.

I ignore them. All I can think about is Wren. How she ran out on me yesterday afternoon. How traumatized she looked when her dad called, interrupting us. I’m sure that fucked with her head, made her feel like a sinner or whatever, though her purity promise has nothing to do with religion, from what I can tell.

It’s merely a promise she made to her father, and herself, not to stray with the first guy she’s hot for.

If her promise did have religious meaning, then I guess I’m the devil who’s leading her straight into temptation.

I can’t stop thinking about her. How incredibly responsive she is. The eager way she kisses me. How fucking wet her pussy was—she was turned on yesterday, that was obvious. And that virgin pussy was so tight, so fucking soft and hot…

I’m surprised I didn’t explode in my trousers.

Of course, when the word Daddy flashed across the screen right in the middle of me getting her off, that was a surefire way to kill a boner.

My phone buzzes, and irritably, I check it. Another text.

Malcolm: Where the fuck are you? Class is going to start soon.

Me: I slept in late. I’ll be there. Don’t worry about me.

Malcolm: Someone has to.

Not bothering to respond, I pocket my phone, my gaze on the double doors of the dorm building. At this point, I’m practically willing Wren to appear, and when the right door swings open and she appears, I nearly sag with relief. She’s as bundled up as I am, with snow boots on her feet instead of her usual Mary Jane’s and thick wool tights on her legs, a giant puffer coat wrapped all around her. She has one of those hats on that the girls love to wear with a giant fur puff ball on top of her head and matching gloves and scarf. I can barely see her pretty face.