CHAPTER ONE
Bentley
“The family would like to thank all of you who have gathered here today to celebrate the life of Carissa Lynn Marquart. To bid farewell to a young woman taken from this earth far too soon. To support one another in your grief from Miss Marquart’s passing...”
“God, this is lame.”
My head whips to the right, where the girl I’ve loved almost my whole life stands. The sun glints off the charm bracelet she always wears as she tucks a lock of her long, blonde hair behind her ear.
“Wh—” I fling my hand toward the people gathered around, all dressed in black. “But, you—”
Carissa lifts a delicate brow. “Died?”
I swallow, watching as the polished wood casket is lowered into its grave. “Yeah.”
Her pouty lips form into a smirk. “Yeah. That part kind of sucks, huh? Puts an end to that whole, we’ll get married one day and be together forever dream of mine.”
“I don’t...” I shake my head. “I don’t understand. How are you here?”
“Because I had to tell you.”
“Tell me wh—” My eyes fall closed when pleasure shoots up my spine. I plant my feet more firmly on the ground so my legs don’t give out. “Fuuuuuck.”
“Bentley, pay attention.”
My brown eyes meet her baby blues. “Huh? What were you saying?”
A wail pierces through the air, and I look up to find my best friend’s sister, Ainsley, holding on to my other best friend for dear life.
Carissa nods to the mourners. “They’re here because of you.”
I moan as warm, wet lips meet my skin. As a tongue traces the vein on the underside of my shaft. I lean back against the tree trunk, looking down on a head of long, black hair.
What the fuck?
I try pushing her away, but instead, I wind up wrapping those curls around my fist as she starts bobbing up and down, applying the perfect amount of suction.
Jesus fucking Christ, she’s good at that.
“This is your fault, Bentley. Everything is your fault.”
I watch as the mystery girl works my dick over like a pro, trying to get a glimpse of her face, but my eyes won’t seem to focus.
“Bentley!” Carissa shouts. “Look at me!”
I turn my attention back to her, my vision perfectly clear. Carissa’s so damn beautiful, it hurts sometimes. And that beauty is one-hundred-percent natural. She never felt the need to keep up with all the plastic girls in our social circles. She’s tiny in stature, but she has long, lean muscles honed from years of ballet. Her hair is the perfect shade of golden blonde, which complements her creamy skin and light blue eyes. She could easily be a model if she were taller and interested in shit like that.
I give her my signature panty-dropping grin. “What were you saying?”
“That.” She nods to the girl on her knees. “That is why it’s all your fault.”
We both watch for a moment as the girl sucks me off. There’s no way I’m going to last much longer.
“What do you mean? You’re the one who said we needed to see other people. To sow our wild oats.”
Rissa’s eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t mean it. I was coming to that party to tell you I didn’t mean it. I was done pretending, Bent. I didn’t want anyone but you. But then I saw you with her.”
“I didn’t want anyone but you either, Riss. But you made it clear you had no interest in being in a relationship until we were in college. You told me I had to see other people. How was I supposed to know you didn’t actually mean what you said? I’m not a goddamn mind reader.”
I look down again at the dark head of hair as my balls start tightening. “Oh, shit, honey, I’m gonna come.”
Mystery Girl’s nails bite into my ass as she pulls me closer, moaning her intention to stay right where she is. Mind-numbing pleasure ricochets throughout my entire body as I explode into her mouth. She bobs on my cock, working me through the final tremors before swallowing my load. Christ, I swear that almost made me come again.
Carissa sniffles. When I look up at her, tears are rolling down her cheeks.
“Riss—” I reach for her, but she pulls away before I can touch her.
“It’s your fault, Bentley! I killed myself because you broke my heart into a million pieces!” She throws her hands out. “That’s why I ran off that night. That’s why I tried finding someone to replace you.” Rissa scoffs. “A lot of good that did me.”
Murmurs roll through the crowd of funeral-goers as our voices rise.
The girl in front of me stands. I band my arms around her back, nuzzling my face into her neck. Damn, she smells incredible, like baked goods or some shit. I suddenly feel the need to trace every inch of her skin with my tongue.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don’t even know this girl.”
Carissa releases a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, you do, Bent. Look at her. Really look at her.”
When I pull back, the girl’s face finally comes into focus. My God, she has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re bright bluish-green, which might not seem so unusual, but her complexion is similar to mine, so the light color really stands out. There’s a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that, for some reason, I find really sexy. Everything about her is sexy, really. She’s much taller than most girls in our school; I’m guessing maybe five-foot-nine, five-ten. Her lips are full, she’s got curves in all the right places, and when she smiles, it takes my fucking breath away.
“Bentley!” Carissa yells.
The other girl frowns, backing away.
“Wait!” I reach for her. “Don’t go. Hold up a sec.”
She shakes her head, taking another few steps backward.
“Did you hear me, Bentley?!” Carissa tugs on my arm. “I’m dead because of you!”
“Fuck.” I bolt upright in my bed, scrubbing a hand over my face.
It was just a fucking dream. It didn’t really happen.
Man, that was intense. I take a few deep breaths until the sleep fog clears. Then I throw my covers off and head into my attached bathroom. After turning on the shower, I strip out of my boxers and brush my teeth, allowing the water a moment to warm. I stand under the spray, for I don’t even know how long, running the dream through my head.
That wasn’t a dream. It was a goddamn nightmare.
I haven’t dreamed about Carissa for months. In a way, it was nice seeing her again, but at the same time, it gutted me and ripped apart old wounds. We were never technically together, but we did have sex often, and there were definitely feelings involved on both sides. She was the one who insisted we screw other people, but we kept those casual fucks completely separate from our relationship. Or non-relationship. Whatever the hell it was.
I stay in the shower until the water runs cold before drying off and heading into my walk-in closet to get dressed for school. I hate wearing a lame-ass uniform every day, but at least it’s high-quality shit—the spoiled assholes at our private school wouldn’t have it any other way. Plus, I look damn good in it, if I may say so myself. With a quick glance in the mirror, I grab the keys to my Porsche off my dresser and head out.
“Bent, honey, aren’t you going to eat breakfast?”
I come to a stop in the foyer as I hear my mom’s voice. When did she get back from her trip?
“Hey.” I let her wrap me in a hug. “When did you get home?”
My mom smiles. “About an hour ago. I took a red-eye.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon.”
She chuckles. “Bentley, I sent my itinerary to you, just like I do every time your father or I leave town. Did you even open the email?”
I shrug, not bothering to respond because she already knows the answer to that. “How is everyone?”
“Great. Although, your grandparents wouldn’t stop nagging me about how long it’s been since they’ve seen you. We should fly over there during your spring break. I think it’ll be good for us to have some mother-son bonding time before you venture off into the real world.”
“Maybe.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re getting to be like your father.”
My mom is half Hawaiian, and she grew up there, so she really embraces the culture. I don’t think she’s ever enjoyed living in the chaos that is LA, but she deals with it because she loves my dad. She does, however, fly to Maui every few months to visit her side of the family. My dad rarely accompanies her because, being the workaholic he is, the slow pace of island living drives him insane.
I’m pretty sure the man is actually more stressed out when he’s lying on the beach with my mom than he is working eighty hours per week as a venture capitalist. They really are polar opposites, but for some reason, their relationship works. I think I’m the only high schooler I know with somewhat normal parents.
I smile. “Nah, I see no problem with the aloha lifestyle. I think it’s pretty fucking smart, actually.”
My mom scowls. “Bentley Fitzgerald! Watch the language.”
I give her a wry look. “Mom, I’m eighteen.”
“And you’re living in my house, so you’ll abide by my rules.”
I bend down to kiss her cheek before heading toward the front door. “Well, it’s a good thing I only have a few months until graduation then, isn’t it? I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
She shakes her head. “Smartass.”
“Mother! Language!” I gasp dramatically.
“Okay, okay, I get your point.” My mom props a hand on her hip. “You’re not going to eat?”
I shake my head. “I’ve gotta get to school. I’ll grab something there.”
Luckily, the food at Windsor is the shit. Seriously. I think they have three-star Michelin chefs who prepare the menus.
“All right. Have a good day, honey.”
I give her a half-assed wave as I step out the door. “Yep.”
On the short drive to school, I tell myself that the dream didn’t mean anything. That it’s simply my mind’s way of coping with my grief. But I know that’s not true. I know there’s a damn good reason why those thoughts slipped into my subconscious last night, and there’s only one person to blame: Sydney-fucking-Carrington. The new girl. The headmaster’s daughter.
My greatest mistake.
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