CHAPTER 5

Dorian

All I can think is I’m about to nail the most off-limits, most bottled-up girl on the planet. Feels like I just won the fucking jackpot.

The second my lips crash against hers, it’s straight-up unreal. I can’t even put into words what she tastes like, only that it’s perfection in liquid form. Then Katherine pulls back just slightly, staring at me.

Her eyes burn with disgust. She loathes me. But when she drags me into another kiss...it’s filled with venom and need all at once, like she hates my guts but craves me more than air.

It should be nothing but another score. So what if it’s the crown jewel of hook-ups? So what if it’s destined to be the filthiest, most addictive kind of hate-fueled fuck? Right when I’m about to slide inside her, she stiffens and shoots me a look. I’m not stupid. I know exactly what that shit means. I’m not trying to deal with some girl’s first time...virgins get attached, and that’s the last headache I want.

Then Kate—yeah, that’s what I called her that night, not the polished Katherine she parades around as in school. She was Kate when I was buried deep in her, Kate when I came so hard I thought my skull would fucking split, looks at me and asks if I’m gonna fuck her or not.

There’s regular sex, and then there’s the kind that rewires your brain chemistry, etching itself into your memory until you crave it like a junkie chasing a hit. The kind that gnaws under your skin, won’t let go. That’s exactly what this was.

Katherine, polished and perfect Katherine by daylight, slips out of the sheets the following morning. She tiptoes toward the exit of the hotel suite, but I stir awake just as she reaches the door. I stare at her, stunned, not because she’s sneaking out, but because I actually passed out while she’s the one getting up first.

Most guys bust a nut and crash immediately. That’s not me. I’m the type who stays awake, silently tallying how many more minutes of half-assed cuddling I’ve got to put in before I can peel myself away and move the fuck on. Opening my eyes to find one of my hookups already ghosting? That’s brand new.

“Appreciate it,” she mutters, cracking the door open. Her hair’s still tangled, and the smudge of eyeliner beneath her eyes makes her look hotter than she did the night before.

Appreciate it? Who the fuck says that after sex—after a night like that?

I’ve got no clever response, so I just grunt, roll onto my side, and listen as the door shuts behind her.

It’s just another fuck, right? Nothing worth holding onto.

Except I can’t shake her off my goddamn mind.

It ought to be legendary. I should be flaunting it, waving the scorecard in every lacrosse prick’s face. I nailed Katherine Harrison, and better yet, I popped her cherry. But I don’t breathe a word.

Graduation prep keeps the calendar packed, but even then, I swear she’s gone underground, dodging me. And I let it slide, steering clear of her too. 

Hit and quit—that’s always been my creed. The whole time I’m telling myself I just need to fuck someone else, any girl, to scrub her memory out of my brain. Start fresh.

But I don’t. Instead it lingers, festering, chewing through me like a sickness I can’t cure.

The only reason I even drag myself here alongside my mother is because I can’t resist. I’ve got this twisted compulsion to watch Katherine’s expression when she lays eyes on me.

Totally worth the trip. Katherine looks absolutely…furious the moment she spots me. She glares at me like I’m something slimy she just scraped off her shoe. And still, all I can think about is bending her over.

By the time I’ve chain-smoked my way through a second cigarette, I’m still stuck on Katherine, about to spark up a third, when a voice from the curb cuts through.

“Yo, Dorian!” The guy, rocking crumpled cargo pants with a messenger bag dumped by his sneakers, lifts his camera and starts snapping away.

I flick the lighter, inhale slow, and let him keep firing off shots. Then I throw him the middle finger. I hold my ground, flipping him off while I take one last drag, crush the cigarette out, and grind it into Senator fucking Harrison’s pristine lawn.

Reporters are bloodsucking leeches.

I figure the secret’s out…well, not the real one, not the one Katherine’s shaking over. Like I’d be so eager to announce that shit anyway.

Stepping back into the house, I catch myself weighing the option of ditching the whole summer arrangement altogether. I could just say screw it, bail, walk away from all of this.

Except my inheritance is hanging in the balance. That’s why I cut the deal with my mother. Like that old story about Faust, selling his soul for what he wanted. Ella pitched me terms I couldn’t decline. So here I am, about to play the dutiful stepson, tagging along with this shiny new family through the summer.

And really, how could I turn down months of driving Katherine insane, watching her squirm every single day?