It’s the first time, perhaps, that Margaret has called me by my first name, and I hate the way it sounds so damn ominous on her lips.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Only, as much as I want to misunderstand and pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about, I do know.

  I totally know.

  She’s telling me that there are people in this house who will turn me in to my dad if they so much as have a guess that I might like Adalee as more than a friend.

  There are people who will hand me over to the dogs for looking at her the wrong way or at the wrong time.

  I know that Margaret is sharp as a tack, and she’s got my back in everything. This is no exception. She’s one of those people who was always loyal to my mom. Even now, I know that Margaret misses her, and I’ve always kind of had the idea that Margaret’s loyalty transferred not to my father, but to me when my mom died.

  “I understand,” I finally say.

  Margaret looks at Adalee, who nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  “Watch your backs,” Margaret tells us. “Not everyone is a friend.”

  Just then, Tamara comes into the room. She’s another employee of my father’s. I don’t really know what she does. Secretarial stuff, maybe? She and Natasha work together to do basically anything my dad needs. Tamara and Natasha are both total snobs and completely stuffy and stuck-up. They waddle around the house in stilettos for some reason. Do they think those look good? Because they definitely don’t.

  “Lunch?” Tamara asks. She ignores me completely. Adalee, too.

  “Try speaking in a complete sentence,” I snap before Margaret can reply.

  Tamara turns to me and narrows her eyes. She’s obviously prepared to offer some sort of shitty response, but then she seems to recognize that it’s me: her boss’ son.

  “Oh, Harrison!” She squeals, hurrying into the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were here!”

  She moves so quickly that she doesn’t notice some of the soup that’s spilled on the floor. She seems to be hurrying over to hug me, but she inevitably slips and goes flying into the air. I catch her easily, holding her tightly, but I’m completely disgusted with the way she’s gripping me. Her breasts are heaving against me, and she looks up at me all doe-eyed.

  “Harrison, you saved me,” she says.

  “I think you would have been just fine.”

  “You’re a hero.”

  “Stop,” I say, and I push her away so she can steady herself and stand once more. “And you need to be more careful,” I add before she can say something about the kitchen being a mess. “We’re cooking in here, and I’m not a good cook. Margaret is giving me lessons, and I just spilled that soup right before you walked in.”

  Tamara looks like she doesn’t believe me at all, but I don’t give a shit. It’s not her job to believe me. It’s her job to look pretty and suck up to my dad.

  “Is that so?” She finally says.

  “That’s so. Now what did you want? Complete sentences,” I remind her.

  Adalee and Margaret are completely quiet. They’re still standing by the giant pot of soup, stirring it carefully. Neither one of them seems to mind the fact that Tamara is here. They’re acting completely normally and like this is a common occurrence, but it’s not.

  At least, it shouldn’t be.

  I don’t want Tamara in this house at all. She’s just another reason that the winter break is going to be fucking hell on Earth.

  I want to spend time with Adalee. I want to lose myself in her.

  I don’t want to be fighting off my dad’s bimbos.

  “Oh, as I was saying,” Tamara says, smoothly her dress. It’s much too short to be wearing at work. I’m certain that Adalee and Margaret both got an eyeful of Tamara’s panties when she fell. “I was wondering if lunch was almost ready.”

  She turns to Margaret, but before the old woman can respond, I interject again.

  “Almost. Like I said, I’m cooking today, and it’s taking me a little while. I asked Margaret to help me because I keep messing it up. Give us twenty minutes.”

  “Make that ten,” Margaret says with a wink. “I think we’ve just about got things sorted.”

  “Hmmph,” Tamara makes a flouncing noise and leaves the kitchen. Her heels clack noisily as she moves away. Finally, she’s gone, well out of earshot, and Margaret turns to me.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Harrison,” she says, once again calling me by my first name.

  This time, it doesn’t feel bad.

  This time, it makes me feel like she really believes in me, and she doesn’t think I’m just some loser rich kid.

  That feels pretty damn good.

  Chapter Eleven

  Adalee

  After lunch is squared away, I make my way upstairs. When I’m sure that no one is looking and that there’s no chance of me being spotted, I knock on Harrison’s door. I hope that if anyone is watching the security cameras, it will look like I’m stopping by with some sort of homework question. I have a notebook with me just in case. It’ll be a good excuse, and an easy way to express why I bothered showing my face at his place.

  Harrison opens the door and lets me inside. As soon as it’s closed, he pushes me against the door and just starts kissing me.

  Everywhere.

  He kisses my ears and my neck and moves down to my breasts. I drop the notebook, no longer keeping up any sort of pretense as to why I’m here, and he slips a hand between my legs and starts rubbing me over the clothes.

  It doesn’t matter what’s happened in the past.

  It doesn’t matter that this thing between us can’t last.

  The only thing that matters is right here, and right now, and what I want, more than anything else, is Harrison inside of me.

  I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for his pants. He stands perfectly still as I unbutton his pants and pull them down. Tugging his underwear to his ankles, I look up at him. He’s watching me, but I’m totally focused on his dick.

  Seriously, that thing is fucking gorgeous.

  I reach forward, pressing my lips to his cock, and I start sucking. He groans, bracing his hands against the door, and I smile to myself. There’s nothing quite as wonderful as making someone groan and moan. I love it. I love that. I love all of the noises he’s making right now as I touch him.

  I suck harder, deeper, faster, but soon he steps back, pulling himself away from me. I groan in protest, but Harrison comes down to the floor and grabs me, kissing me.

  “I want you,” he whispers.

  “I want you, too.”

  “Adalee...I want you to ride me.”

  So, it’s something I’ve never done before, but that’s okay, right? There’s got to be a first time for everything. Besides, I’m not about to tell him that I’ve never done this before.

  Karen has a saying: fake it ‘til you make it. I don’t know that I’ve ever actually implemented this before, but I’m more than happy to pretend that I know what I’m doing if it means getting him off.

  Well, and getting myself off, too.

  I push him back on the floor, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I just fucking look at him. It’s not fair that Harrison is so damn beautiful. He’s gorgeous, which is totally unfair for a guy. Guys are supposed to be normal looking.

  They aren’t supposed to be so very pretty.

  I kiss Harrison, and as we’re kissing, I wiggle out of my clothes. I hope I’m being seductive with this, but I don’t know if I am or not. Either way, I’m getting out as quickly as possible, and as soon as I’m free from my own pants and panties, I climb over him, straddling him.

  Harrison and I have a bad habit of not getting all of the way naked before we make love, but that’s only because we waited so damn long for this. Now it seems like anything that causes us to wait even a little bit longer becomes impossible.

  “Adalee,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  With that, I slide down onto him. He fills me up, and I lean down and kiss him. He grabs my hips, pulling me down and pushing me back up in time with his own thrusting. I grab his shoulders as we kiss in this moment, and somehow, this feels like the most intimate damn thing we’ve ever done.

  More intimate than the blowjob.

  More intimate that making love in the attic.

  Somehow, this moment between us is everything I’ve ever hoped for and so much more.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

  “You like that, baby?” I nip at his ear before sliding my tongue down to his neck. I kiss him there, sucking. I shouldn’t leave a mark, right? I shouldn’t leave a mark.

  Oh, but I want to.

  He thrusts harder, faster, deeper, and I hold onto him in this moment. He slides a hand between us and plays with my body as I ride his dick. This is the type of moment I’ve always dreamed of. This is the kind of thing I’ve spent the last million years fantasizing about.

  “More,” I groan.

  I’m so close.

  I’m trying so hard to be quiet, and not to cry out, but damn, I’m so fucking close. My entire body seems to tighten as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper.

  And then it hits me.

  My entire world seems to crash and burn before my eyes and Harrison cleverly reaches up and covers my mouth as I come. He groans through his own release as he fills me up, marking me as his own, and then I collapse on the floor beside him.

  He holds me, stroking my hair, whispering sweet nothings to me, and all I can think about is how I never want this to end: any of it. I don’t want a single damn part of this to end. I want him to hold me and touch me and kiss me forever.

  Is there any way to make this happen?

  I haven’t told Harrison that his dad has been blackmailing me for years. I haven’t told him that his father seems to think I owe him. Frank believes I carry the family debt of my mother, but I don’t think I’ll ever be free from that.

  Unless Harrison can free me.

  Unless I can free myself.

  Is that the problem I’ve had for years?

  Have I been so caught up in the idea that there’s nothing I can do about my situation that I’ve let Frank bully me?

  Well, I’m sleeping with his son now, and I’ve never felt so damn wonderful. Nothing has been as pleasing or as perfect or as special as touching and playing with Harrison. Nothing has been quite as wonderful.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Harrison whispers.

  “About us.”

  “What about us?”

  I don’t think this thing between us can realistically last.

  We’ll go back to school at the end of the holiday and we’ll go back to our separate friend groups. Harrison will get sucked back into the world of girls like Dana who will do anything just to touch him. He’ll get swept away with her kisses and her attention, and he’ll get caught up in the bad-boy drama.

  Me?

  I’ll go back to being the invisible girl no one thinks about, but what happens if I don’t want that?

  What if I want this?

  Right now?

  What we’re sharing?

  I swallow hard. Am I going to be a brave badass or am I going to be a coward? I could lie to Harrison or I could tell him what I’m actually thinking.

  He’s strong enough to handle the truth, right?

  But if I lie, we can definitely spend the next two weeks making love to each other. I can return to school with a sore, sated pussy and he can return knowing he finally bedded me after all of this time.

  Or I could be strong.

  What would Mom do?

  My mom isn’t exactly a role model. She hasn’t exactly been the epitome of bravery or strength. She walked away, and even though she’s dead now, I’ll never forget that she did whatever it took.

  Maybe she struck a deal with the devil because she was on drugs. Maybe she gave me up because she thought I’d have a better life. Maybe she was tricked into giving me up. I have no idea, and I know that I’ll never know, but...

  But this is my chance to make my choice.

  “I’m wondering what’s going to happen when we go back to school,” I finally blurt out.

  Harrison stills, and instantly, I know that was the wrong thing to say. Okay, so maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy, at least in my case.

  “What do you mean?” He asks.

  “I mean...are we going to be together?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Again, honesty.

  I haven’t gone after what I wanted...ever. Not until this week. And you know what? Going after Harrison felt good. It felt so fucking fantastic that I want to do it again.

  “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  My voice sounds tiny and frail and weak, and for a second, I think he’s going to laugh at me, but he rolls over and looks at me. We’re lying on our sides, facing each other, and he reaches for my hair. He touches me gently, stroking my curls, and then he asks me a hard question.

  “What do you like about me?”

  “Everything.”

  “Specifics.”

  “Harrison, I like that you’re brave. You go after what you want. You don’t give a shit what people think about you.”

  It might be cheesy, but it’s the truth.

  “Funny. I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  His words shoot straight to my heart, and I hold them there. I’m never letting these words go. Never ever.

  “You were?”

  “Something’s changed in you lately. I always thought you didn’t like me, that you were totally unattainable. And honestly, you always kind of came across to me as a good girl who was scared of everything.”

  “In some ways, I’m still like that.” I shake my head because I know that change doesn’t happen overnight. I’m not suddenly going to be incredibly brave all of the time. I’m showing pockets of bravery: little snippets of what I could be.

  “I’m not so sure about that. The Adalee I know is making a comeback.”

  “A comeback?”

  “When we were kids, you used to be so fucking brave and bold. You’d do whatever you wanted if you thought it would make someone smile or someone laugh. In middle school, things kind of changed.”

  That was when Frank started laying down the law. I was going through puberty, so I had a new role. I had to learn what was expected of me, and falling for Harrison?

  That was so not expected.

  “Now, though, it’s like I’m getting to see a little bit of the old Adalee.”

  “And you like that.”

  “Well, I did just fuck you on the floor,” he chuckles. “Didn’t even finish getting undressed.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Yeah, princess,” he says. “I like that.”

  “Do you think we can...you know?”

  “What? Date?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know, Adalee. Do you want to be known as the girl who dates the bad boy?” He smirks.

  “Is that what you are? A bad boy?”

  “I’ve been known to be a bit of a troublemaker,” he admits.

  “And what about you? Would you want to date someone who’s a little bit shy?”

  “I don’t think you’re shy.”

  “No?”

  “More like, misunderstood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have a lot of layers, Adalee. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, and if my calculations are correct, I’d guess that you have a lot of secrets and no one to tell them to.”

  “That might be right.”

  “I could be that person.”

  “What person?”

  “Your secret keeping person.”

  “Is that what you want to be to me, Harrison?”

  “I want you to tell me all of your secrets,” he smiles. “I want to know everything about you, Adalee. I want to know the good, the bad.”

  “The ugly?”

  “There’s nothing ugly about you. You couldn’t be ugly if you tried.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I whisper.

  “Well, you should know this,” he says. “Yes, Adalee. I want to date you. More than anything else, I want to call you mine.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Harrison

  I AM NOT A ROMANTIC sort of guy.

  Not me.

  That’s not my style, and it never has been, but when Adalee whispers to me that she wants to be my girlfriend, it’s all I can do to keep from making love to her again and again.

  Boyfriend?

  And girlfriend?

  Us?

  My head is spinning just thinking about it, but yeah, that’s exactly what I want.

  And no, I will never tell my father.

  He can’t know.

  My dad has a lot of secrets from everyone. He plays his cards close to his chest: probably because he’s a total prick. If he found out about Adalee, well, that would be the end of Adalee. He’d do something shitty, like force us to break up or stop paying her tuition. At least, he’d try.

  What he doesn’t know is my mother has a failsafe in place for Adalee’s protection. That’s something she confided to me long ago. She was dying, and she knew it. We all knew it. She was about to give in to cancer’s cruel game, and she called me to her room.

  “I don’t want you to worry about Adalee,” she whispers. Her voice is choking and rough. It won’t be long now.

  “Mama?”

  “I know your father doesn’t like her.”

  “I know, Mama, but I don’t know why.”

  “It doesn’t matter why, but I need you to know something, Harrison.”

  “What is it, Mama?”

  “You can never tell anyone.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise, Mama.”

  “If your father tries to hurt her, I’m leaving her something that no one can take away from her.”