Chapter 6
SIX
JESSICA
“Does your father help with the bills?” Kane asks, facing me as much as he can in the small space of his car. The sun is setting in the distance, golden hues streaming through the windshield.
After washing off in the lake, we dressed and sat in the shade, but when it started raining, we got in his car, listened to music, and talked about our likes and dislikes until the sun came back out.
Now I’ve learned that Kane can do French braids, thanks to his younger sister, and plays the piano, which he reluctantly admitted with an eye roll, as if he was ashamed to share that part of himself.
Honestly, it’s hard to imagine the guy who raced my brother and chased me through the woods playing a musical instrument. He speaks about his mother warmly, but his lips tighten when talking about his father. Interesting.
“My dad struggles to hold down a job,” I say with a slight shrug, as if I’m trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation.
Maybe I am. After all, Kane comes from old money.
His father might be a jerk, judging by the way Kane’s eyes lose their spark every time he’s mentioned, but at least he provides for his family, unlike my deadbeat father.
“So how do you pay for everything?” he asks.
I wince, picking at my cuticles until they bleed. Why is it so hard to admit to money struggles? This is why I shouldn’t be here in his car. We’re too different.
“That’s why I was there that night. In your father’s office.”
He falls silent for a moment, and I fight the urge to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. Nothing I say will change the truth.
His eyes burn into the side of my face and my fidgeting hands, but I don’t look at him.
I can’t.
“And my brother,” I continue, clearing my throat. “He’s involved in things he shouldn’t be.”
“Like what things?”
My brows knit together, and I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t ask questions.” A tear slips out, and I wipe my eyes. “The truth is, I’ve thought about taking a job at Velvet Trap.”
The local strip club.
God, I feel uneasy admitting that to him. There’s nothing wrong with sex work. It’s just not for me.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Kane snaps, cutting off my dark train of thought, and I look up to see his jaw ticking angrily. For a second, I worry he might punch something.
“You’re going nowhere near that place. I’ll lose my shit.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I say. “You’ve never struggled with money. It’s not like I want to do it. Trust me, I don’t. But I have to protect my family somehow, and that place pays good money—”
“Because those preppy Heights men want to fuck pretty women like you, and they have cash to burn, that’s why.”
I glare at him. “Without money, we can’t afford Mom’s care.
Chris could end up in jail. Summer would have to quit college.
I don’t care about my education, but Summer is smart.
She’ll get out of Bleakmoor one day and make something of herself.
And if I have to dance for rich men to make sure that happens, I will. ”
“And suck their dicks,” he mutters under his breath.
I smack his arm. “Don’t judge. What’s the alternative? Watching my mom die a painful death because we can’t afford her care? Visiting my brother in prison? And what about my sister? Should I let her throw away her only chance at a better future? No, Kane. I can’t be that selfish.”
“Is that what she’d want?” he asks. “Men who only see tits and ass using you for money so she can afford her degree? Have you asked her what she wants?”
His blunt words hit me like a slap. I cross my arms and stare out of the window.
“Look,” he says after a while, his voice noticeably softer. “Having someone touch you when you don’t want them to can really scar your soul.”
Something in his tone, something vulnerable, makes me stiffen slightly as my eyes lock onto his.
He continues. “You don’t just walk away from something like that. Besides, your sister loves you and would never forgive herself if you paid such a high price.”
I hate that he’s right. Sometimes common sense can screw itself in the ass.
When I swallow the thick lump in my throat, he rubs his neck, voice raspy. “And what about you, Jessica Holt? Who’s looking after you?”
Mom did.
Tears fill my eyes as I look out the passenger window so he won’t see the pain behind my mask.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a second or two, or maybe it’s been minutes. I don’t even know anymore. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, you’re right,” I reply with a brittle smile, digging my nail into my bleeding cuticle.
Pain is good.
“No one is looking out for me. Not now that Mom’s not around anymore.”
I hate how bitter I sound. Hate that my voice trembles despite how strong I try to be. Strength has always been my armor. Kane broke right through it with his one-man army and words as arrows.
“But that’s life,” I almost whisper. “It has a way of screwing you over.” My lips curl into a humorless smile as I meet his blue eyes.
They reveal nothing, and honestly, I appreciate that there’s no trace of pity.
Or anger. Or anything. He’s just watching me, sitting with my pain.
And for a moment, I don’t feel so alone.
“What about you?” I ask. “I bet your life is flowers and roses up in that big mansion, huh?”
He scoffs, drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t exactly call it flowers and roses.”
“No?”
He rubs his nose, sniffs. “Believe it or not, money doesn’t fix all problems. If anything, it brings more of them to your door.”
The words feel heavy between us as he avoids meeting my gaze. Curious, I study his side profile. There’s something he isn’t telling me. Behind his smirk and wealth, Kane Ravencourt has more layers than meet the eye.
He finally turns his head and sees me watching him, as if it takes a lot of effort to face me after what he said. “My father, he, uh…”
His thumb taps repeatedly on the steering wheel, and the persistent drumming catches my eye.
Kane is nervous.
“My brother and I didn’t exactly have the easiest upbringing.” His voice thickens with some unspoken emotion as he looks at his large hand on the wheel.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Was he strict with you?”
A hollow smile ghosts his lips. “That’s one word for it.”
Whatever Kane’s not saying, it’s enough to leave a scar. Though I want to ask about it, I know it’s not my place. He’s not mine. He never will be.
When his gaze cuts to me, a small ache blooms behind my ribs, and I search for something to say but come up empty.
“I’m sorry.”
Such meaningless words in the face of suffering.
“Don’t be,” he says. “It’s part of the founding families’ legacy.”
I wonder if he’s aware of the bitter bite in his tone, or maybe it’s just my imagination?
“What about the racing?” I ask, curious despite myself. “How did you get into that?”
“How did your brother get into it?” he counters, his lips twitching.
A grin chases my lips. There’s something about seeing his guarded emotions shift from pain to playfulness that makes my chest flutter. “Are you even from Bleakmoor if you’re not into racing?”
“You’re not.”
“Only because my brother won’t let me race. Otherwise, I’d be out there smoking your ass, pretty boy, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t know what hit you.”
His mouth slowly curves into a radiant smile, the kind that takes my breath away. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to stop it, but it’s too late. I am amazed at how it transforms his face. The truth is, Kane Ravencourt is beautiful.
“I’d love to see you try.” He makes no secret of checking me out.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Maybe I will one day.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “I look forward to it.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate me, Kane.”
The leather creaks under his weight as he leans in close and lines his lips up with my ear.
“And what do I get if I win, little thief?”
The dark honey in his voice whispers against my ear. Heat floods my body as wetness dampens my panties. My breath catches. I know he can tell by the smile that curves his lips.
Kane could ruin me with a touch.
“You won’t.”
“No? Are you sure?” His fingers graze my chin, and we lock eyes. This close, our lips almost touch.
“Because if I win,” he says, “I want you to admit you’re mine.”
I swallow, rasping, “I’m not yours.”
“No? You’ll never be mine, right?”
“Right,” I croak.
“Just like I would never fuck you.” He leans in even closer, brushing his tempestuous lips over mine, our eyes connecting in a clash of heat. “And now your tight little pussy is tender and swollen. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your slight wince every time you shift.”
Of course, he has. He’s observant as hell. Nothing slips by him.
When I don’t reply, he grabs my chin, tilts my face away, and whispers in my ear. “Because you took my cock like a good girl earlier. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
My chest rises as he releases my chin to brush my hair away from my neck, lingering with the backs of his fingers on my racing pulse point.
“You say one thing, little thief. But your body betrays you.” He rips open the button on my jeans, his big hand sliding into my damp panties. I gasp at the feel of his thick fingers pressing into me.
“I’m addicted to your pussy.” He begins to pump, and my eyes water from the fierce sting of being filled so suddenly again after sex, but fuck if it doesn’t feel good, too. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, because let’s face it: pain excites me.
“Do you have any idea how good you feel on my fingers? How tightly you grip me? This is a greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”
“Kane, fuck,” I gasp, clasping the door… his shoulder… whatever object is closest.
“Tell me this pussy belongs to me.” His thumb finds my clit, and I almost combust. “Say it.”
Somehow, some-fucking-how, I shake my head.
I will never say those words to him.
Kane shifts closer, pressing his lips to my ear as he drives his thick fingers into me. “Fine, keep the words to yourself, lock them up in that vault of yours, but I feel it, you know? How your pussy grips onto me like it’s fucking desperate for a good fingering.”
God, he has such a filthy mouth.
“Shit,” he whispers when a broken moan slips past my lips. “I love the sounds you make for me. Those desperate, breathy little whines. Do you have any idea how much you arouse me?”
“Kane… oh god.” My pussy clenches around his ruthless fingers.
He crooks them to hit that magical spot inside me, rubbing and massaging every inch of my inner walls.
The pressure between my legs tightens, wetness coating his hand.
When the sensations become overwhelming, I grab his wrist, my pussy spasming.
The wave crests, and I explode with a sharp cry, toes curling in my shoes.
Breathing heavily, Kane makes a strangled sound in his throat, his fingers losing their rhythm. Then he curses and presses his forehead against my shoulder.
The air between us goes still. We don’t speak, simply existing in silence. Outside, the sun has nearly set, its fading light spilling through the windows.
“Fuck,” Kane mutters in defeat, sitting up to look down at his crotch. In my blissful post-orgasmic haze, it takes me a moment to realize what’s happened. Then my eyes widen, and laughter spills from my lips. I clap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late.
“I swear,” Kane says, holding his hands up like he has no idea what to do about the dark stain on his pants, “I’ve never come in my pants before.”
“Never?” I ask, trying not to giggle. Honestly, I’m kind of flattered.
“Can we pretend this never happened?” He reaches past me, opens the glove compartment, and pulls out tissues, dabbing at the evidence.
“I kind of like it.”
The look he gives me makes it impossible not to laugh. “Baby, this does not give me bragging rights,” he says.
“Hey!” I close the small gap between us and bite his earlobe gently, making him shiver. “Relax.”
And then I flop back into my seat with a smug grin that’s wide enough to hurt my cheeks.
He’s fighting a faint smile, too.
Let’s just say it’s not the first time he’s been covered in his own release because of me. Is it wrong of me to want it to happen again? Against my better judgment, I agreed to one afternoon. Just one.
After tonight, I should stay away.
It’s for the best. I know that, but let’s face the facts.
Kane won’t leave me alone.
And I hope he doesn’t.