17. Lee
SEVENTEEN
lee
Every second that Salem is gone amps up my anxiety further. It’s my job to protect her?—
to keep her safe, to ensure she has a good time and that nothing bad happens—yet somehow, she’s nowhere in sight.
Charlotte Henderson’s hand feels wrong on my arm. Too soft, too familiar, too fucking present. I’ve been trying to escape her for twenty minutes, but she’s got the practiced skill of a society debutante—always keeping me just caught enough that walking away would cause a scene.
“And Daddy says the penthouse view is simply amazing,” she prattles on, her fingers drawing small circles on my bicep. “You really must come see it sometime, Lee.”
I grunt something noncommittal, scanning the crowd for Salem. She disappeared after my mother cornered her, and the bourbon swimming in my veins is making it impossible to focus.
“Lee? Are you listening?”
No. I’m not. I’m counting exits and measuring the distance between myself and another drink and trying to figure out where the fuck my fake girlfriend disappeared to and?—
Then the crowd parts like a tide, and my heart stops fucking beating.
Salem glides out onto the dance floor, but she’s not alone. Aries—my supposed best friend, the bastard who tried to stir the pot at The Mill—holds her hand, leading her in a perfect waltz. She’s laughing, actually laughing, her head tipped back as he spins her.
“Lee?” Charlotte tugs my arm. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”
Distracted doesn’t begin to cover it. Salem’s burgundy dress flows around her legs as Aries guides her through another turn. His hand sits properly on her waist, exactly where mine should be. I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding to the point of pain. Salem’s silk-covered fingers rest on his shoulder like they belong there.
They look … right … together.
Normal.
The kind of couple that belongs at charity galas.
“Would you like to dance?” Charlotte asks, pressing closer. “The string quartet is playing our song.”
We don’t have a song. We don’t have anything.
I would tell her that, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Salem and Aries long enough to correct her. Can’t focus on anything except the way Salem’s smile reaches her eyes. Is this the first time I’ve seen her smile tonight? Truly smile?
Because of him.
My best friend.
The bourbon churns in my stomach as Aries leans down to whisper something in Salem’s ear. She laughs again, and dark, angry jealousy unfurls in my chest.
Mine.
The word echoes in my head like a war drum.
Even if it’s fake.
Even if it’s pretend.
She’s mine.
“Your mother mentioned wedding venues,” Charlotte drones on, but her words blur into white noise. All I can focus on is Salem’s hand sliding from Aries’s shoulder to his chest as he guides her through another turn.
When did she get comfortable touching people?
She’s supposed to count first. Prepare herself. Take three steadying breaths.
Apparently, not anymore. Since there she is, moving like water through Aries’s arms, while I’m drowning in bourbon and jealousy beside Hartford’s most eligible socialite.
“The Henderson estate has lovely gardens,” Charlotte continues, her fingers trailing down my arm. “Perfect for a spring ceremony, don’t you think?”
Salem tips her head back. Her throat is exposed, perfect and pale against burgundy silk. Aries’s hand slides lower on her back—still proper, still society-approved, but too fucking intimate.
“Lee?” Charlotte tugs my sleeve. “You’re being terribly rude.”
Good. Maybe if I’m rude enough, she’ll take the hint and fucking disappear. Let me watch this nightmare unfold without her running commentary about fucking garden ceremonies. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I would truly go through with marrying her. So is my mother.
Aries spins Salem again, and when she returns to him this time, their bodies align perfectly. No careful distance. No measured breaths. No counting tiles or steps or moments before contact.
She trusts him.
The realization burns a path of fire down my throat that’s far worse than any glass of bourbon.
“They do make a striking couple,” Charlotte muses, following my gaze. “Your friend Aries comes from good stock. Old money, like us. And the Masters girl … well, she seems more comfortable with him, doesn’t she? More natural?”
The crystal glass in my hand cracks. Charlotte jumps back as bourbon spills over my fingers, but I barely notice. Salem’s laughing again, her silk-covered hand pressed to Aries’s chest as he whispers something else in her ear.
My best friend.
My fake girlfriend.
My world shatters just like the crystal in my grip.
“Lee, darling, you’re bleeding.”
Am I? I look down at my hand, at the small cuts made from the broken glass. At the bourbon mixing with blood. At the way my fingers shake with something darker than drink.
On the dance floor, Aries pulls Salem closer. She doesn’t resist. The pressure in my chest builds, and I feel like I’m losing her, but how can I lose something that I never even had?
“Should I call someone?” Charlotte asks, her voice pitched with concern. “The bleeding?—”
“Shut up.” The words come out razor-sharp. “Just … shut the fuck up about gardens and ceremonies and bleeding and?—”
The world around me comes to a screeching halt.
Salem’s eyes have found mine across the room. Even through the bourbon haze, I can tell the moment she sees me, really sees me, and all the fucked-up, broken pieces of my soul. Her beautiful smile falters, and her hand tightens into a fist against Aries’s chest.
Mine.
The word echoes in my head.
Mine.
Even if it’s fake.
Mine.
Even if she’s better off with him.
“Lee?” Charlotte’s voice seems very far away. “Your mother won’t like?—”
The mask I wear slips off my face.
“Excuse me,” I growl, shoving the broken glass at Charlotte.
She sputters something about manners and mothers and proper behavior, but I’m already moving. Blood drips from my palm, staining my white cuff crimson. Good. Let it stain. Let everything perfect about this night bleed out like the lies we’ve been telling.
The crowd parts before me—maybe it’s my expression, maybe it’s the blood, or maybe it’s the Sterling name that makes them scatter. I don’t know; neither do I care. My focus narrows to Salem and Aries, still wrapped up in their little dance.
A dance that should be mine.
“Lee—”
Aries spots me first, his hands tightening on Salem’s waist. Protective. Like he has any right to protect her from me.
“Move.” The word comes out like gravel. Like bourbon and blood and broken glass.
Salem’s eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. “You’re hurt?—”
“Private room.” I reach for her with my good hand. “Now.”
“We were in the middle of a dance,” Aries starts, but something in my expression makes him step back.
“Now.” It’s not a request this time. I wrap my fingers around Salem’s silk-covered wrist, careful even in my rage not to disturb her gloves. “Both of you.”
Aries follows as I guide—drag—them toward the east wing. Away from the party. Away from curious eyes and gossipping mouths and my mother’s calculating stare. Salem doesn’t resist, but I feel her counting steps under her breath.
Wrong steps.
Wrong rhythm.
Wrong fucking everything.
The private room I’d arranged for Salem’s anxiety attacks sits dark and quiet at the end of the hall. I slam through the door, pulling them both inside before anyone can notice where we went.
“Lee—” Salem starts.
“Don’t.” My voice sounds strange. Dangerous. “Just … don’t.”
“You’re bleeding,” she tries again. “Let me?—”
“What the fuck was that?” The words explode out of me. I’m an atomic bomb ready to go off. “Dancing with him? After the way he acted at The Mill?”
“What I did?” Aries takes a step forward, disgust on his face. “Don’t paint me as the fucking villain when all I tried to do was expose whatever game it is you’re playing with her.”
“Game?” I advance on him, but Salem puts herself between us.
“Stop it. Both of you.” Her voice shakes but holds firm. “This isn’t?—”
“Isn’t what?” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged. “Isn’t real? Is that what you were going to say? Because none of this is real, right? Just pretend. Just fake. Just Lee Sterling playing another role, wearing another fucking mask to appease his friends and family.”
“That’s not—” Salem shakes her head. I can see she’s trying to put together a thought in her mind, but I don’t want her rational thoughts right now.
“Then please explain to me what the fuck that was out there?” I gesture toward the ballroom with my bleeding hand.
“You’ve had way too much to drink,” Aries says flatly. “And are making an ass out of yourself.”
“I’m not drunk,” I tell them.
Salem backs up until she hits the wall.
I notice but continue. “I’m not even close to being drunk, and yeah, I’m bleeding because I broke a glass while watching my best friend dance with my girlfriend?—”
“ Fake girlfriend,” Aries corrects.
“Mine.” The word tears out of my throat. “Real, fake, fucking pretend. Doesn’t matter. She’s mine.”
Salem’s breath hitches at the admission. I know I’ve lost my mind and should be more careful, but I’m past rational thinking. All I can do is focus on claiming her, ensuring that no one else touches what belongs to me. I cage her against the wall, one hand beside her head, close enough to feel her trembling but not touching.
“Lee,” she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds like both a prayer and punishment.
“Tell him.” My voice drops lower, and I stare at her perfect lips. “Tell him you’re mine.”
“I …” Her brown eyes ping-pong between us as her silk-covered fingers press against the wall behind her. “This isn’t …”
“Real?” Aries finishes for her. “Because it looks pretty fucking real from where I’m standing.”
“Get out,” I tell him, not looking away from Salem’s face.
“Not happening.” The air shifts as he moves closer. “I’m not leaving you alone with her, not while you’re like this. Calm the fuck down, and then I’ll consider it.”
“I said?—”
“I’m staying.” His voice hardens. “Deal with it.”
Fine. Let him watch. Let him see exactly who Salem belongs to.
Turning my full attention back to her, I watch her throat bob as she swallows. Anxiety flickers in her pretty eyes, but beneath that anxiety is something molten, something that is all fucking mine.
“You drive me crazy, Salem, and make me want things I have no right to want. I’m going to kiss you. Going to claim you like I should’ve from the fucking start,” I tell her, just so she knows. “The other day at The Mill? That was just a taste.” Her tongue darts out over her bottom lip, and she nods gently, giving me the approval I seek.
My self-control snaps, and I take her mouth hard and fast, bruising in my intensity because I need her branded with my taste, feel, and body. I need to be burned into her bones.
Her lithe body clings to me, and she kisses me back with the same intensity. A kind of spark, an electric current ripples between us. She feels it too, craves me just as much as I crave her. We’re a fucking mess, a terrible fucking mess, but together, we’re a little more normal.
Slowly, I bite her lip, then pull back enough to search her eyes. I don’t have it in me to stop now, even with Aries here, hovering. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. I want to see my fingerprints bruised into that pale skin. I want my teeth marks marching up your neck like a ladder.”
She blinks slowly, hazy, soft. “Do it,” she whispers in a long-drawn-out sigh.
But I’m not. At least not today. Right now, I have a point to make.
“First, I’m going to touch you, get you so wet those little panties will be soaked through. Then I’m going to take you. Hard. Fast. Deep. So deep you’re going to beg me to stop and beg me to fuck you harder at the same time. And trust me, I won’t stop. Not even when you beg, not when tears track down your cheeks because it hurts and feels too good at the same time.”
She shudders out a sigh, and her dress rustles as she squeezes her thighs together.
But first things first.
I turn my head the faintest bit. “Does this look fake to you, Aries?”
There’s a rustle, and I press my body into Salem so she can’t slip away from me. From the corner of my eye, I catch Aries tugging off his jacket and bow tie as he settles onto a sheet-covered couch. Fuck me. I’m more turned on than I ever have been in my life.
While the idea of my best friend watching me fuck my girl seems fun, right now, in my mind, all I can see are his hands on her body as they danced. It leaves me with a bitter taste of jealousy in my mouth.
Salem is mine. Not his. Mine.
My thoughts become scattered when Salem grinds herself against me. The length of my cock presses against the zipper of my dress pants. I’m about to blow apart at the seams.
Leaning down, I nip at her ear, my breath skating across her flesh. “Do you want me to fuck you? Fuck your tight pussy right here while the party rages on in the next room?”
I pull back to gauge her reaction. The organ in my chest thumps hard as if it’s trying to escape through my ribs. With trembling fingers, I tuck a few remaining strands of dark hair behind her ear. She peers up at me, and I see two red spots have formed on her cheeks.
Is she embarrassed? If so, it doesn’t appear to outweigh her desire for me to fuck her.
“Don’t be embarrassed, beautiful. Do you trust me to take care of you?”
“Is that what you’re going to do? Are you going to fuck me while he watches? Or are you going to let him touch me, too?” I don’t miss the tremble in her voice or the way her eyes dart away from mine.
She’s worried that I’ll share her with my best friend, but she doesn’t understand.
If I couldn’t handle him dancing with her, what makes her think I’m going to let him put his dick anywhere near her? Fuck, no.
As badly as I want to lose control and give in to the primal urge to own and mark Salem’s beautiful flesh, I’m reminded of how fragile she is and how fucking important it is to soothe her worries.
“I nearly lost my mind watching him dance with you. No way in hell will I allow his cock, or any other appendage, near you.”
“If we do this again…” She catches her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t think I can go back. I can’t pretend anymore.”
All I can do is smile. “Good, because I don’t want to go back. I don’t want you to be my fake girlfriend, Salem.” Leaning forward, I press my forehead against hers and breathe her in. “You’re mine. All fucking mine, every perfectly imperfect inch of you. Now let me prove it to you.” Pulling back, I meet her gaze, direct and lovely in the dim lighting.
“You’re mine,” I repeat, and kiss her again, demanding she open her pretty plush lips so I can get my fill of her.
She’s already moaning as I tangle our tongues and taste her again. Fuck, I can’t get enough of her. When I pull away this time, I trail my hands over her shoulders and down to her waist to find the zipper of her dress.
She has plenty of time to stop me, but she doesn’t move. She simply stands there with her head tipped back into the wall, her fingers tangled in my suit jacket like she needs to hold on to something.
I get her dress undone and watch her face as I bring my hands up to slide it off her shoulders. But nothing further, not yet. Again, she does nothing, seeming to revel in the sensations, not hide from them. It’s just one more thing I love about her.
I blink at the thought, a drop of doubt in my bourbon-addled brain, and then shove it away. Not something I can analyze now as I bare her flesh. Small but firm breasts, narrow waist, and hips that flare out in a way that make me want to take a bite.
I let the dress loosen further, begging me to strip it off and get a better look at her. But it’s not free to fall yet; turnabout is fair play.
Gently, I tug her into my body and guide her hands to my lapels. “Undress me, Salem. Then take my cock out and wrap your hands around it.”
Her eyes pop open, and she skims the silk of her gloves up and down three times, then nods once before she snatches at my jacket, jerking it off my shoulders enough that I can shrug out of it properly. Then her fingers find the buttons of my dress shirt, and I catch her counting under her breath as she releases each one and untucks my shirt from my pants.
I add it to the pile and kick off my shoes. Then I spin her to face Aries, pressing against her back as I dip down to bite and nibble the slope of her neck.
“He’d like to watch,” I whisper. “But I’d only let him see enough to know who you belong to. To let him see what he can never have, what he will never have.”
I meet Aries’s eyes over her shoulder, and he shakes his head. Salem loses herself in my words and in my claim, dropping her head onto my shoulder and molding her frame to mine.
I lift my chin enough to ensure Aries sees the steel in my gaze. “Now get the fuck out so I can take care of my girl.”