Every Little Piece of Me (Orchid Valley 1)

I drop my gaze to my shoes. The glossy black finish is covered in sawdust from the shed floor.

“And you and Brittany probably share friends too, am I right? I hear them bombarding you with questions about her. I bet you don’t mind either, but I never hear them ask how you are.”

“I don’t mind,” I object softly. I feel like he’s seeing right through me, like he’s found all the ugly, rotten, spoiled parts I keep hidden. The parts that resent my sister for her cancer, even when I know it’s not her fault. The parts that resent my parents for all the times they seem to forget about their healthy daughter. It’s like he can see even the parts I don’t want to see myself, and I can’t decide if it’s terrifying or . . . a relief.

This is why I’ve felt sick all day. Not because I’m worried Marston will judge me for dating Roman and not because I think Marston’s right and Roman might hurt me again. My stomach has been in knots because where everyone else sees Brinley Knox, good girl and perfect daughter, Marston sees me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. “How do you know all that?”

His lip twitches. “I’m bored. I’ve had some time to think about what makes you tick.”

My eyes widen. “You’ve been thinking about me?”

“A little.”

“Enough to psychoanalyze me.” Now I’m smiling. Smiling because he knows I’m screwed up and selfish—what the heck is happening here? “You’ve been thinking about me a lot.”

“Not in a creepy way.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely if I had a friend who thought about me in a not-creepy way. Then maybe I wouldn’t need to go to the drive-in with Roman.”

He grunts, but it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “You’re bribing me to be your friend?”

“Only if it’ll work.”

“Friends.” He shakes his head. “Your parents would freak out on both of us.”

“I think I need something in my life that my parents don’t control . . . and the only parts of my life they don’t control are the ones they don’t know about.”

Chapter Nine

Marston

Present day

Having a limo drive me around Vegas is all about swagger. I’m much more comfortable driving my own damn self or grabbing a Lyft if I’m drinking. But I’ve made my business successful by always appearing to be and have the best. The limo makes the right kind of statement, even if I find it obnoxious.

Tonight, as I cruise down the Strip next to Brinley for the third time tonight—her in my lap, my hands on her thighs as she makes a mess of my hair and kisses my neck—I realize it’s growing on me.

Her phone buzzes in her purse beside me. Groaning, she digs for it then grins when she looks at the screen.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Savvy and Alec ended up in some club that has pole dancing.”

I cough out a laugh. “Pretty sure that’s called a strip club where I come from.”

She shakes her head. “Not for strippers but for the customers.” She grins, eyes bright. “Savvy teaches a pole fitness class at The Orchid, and she wants me to go try out some moves with her in the club.”

I slide my hands to her ass and squeeze. “That’s something I wouldn’t miss. Want me to give the driver the address?”

“Not just yet,” she says, sliding off my lap and to her knees in front of me. The smile on her face as she unhooks my belt is devious, and I want to imprint it on my memories.

“Or we could go to the room first,” I say. But I’m already shifting in my seat, making it easier for her to free my cock from my pants.

I’m hard as hell, and Christ, her hand. Her grip is firm as she slides up and over the wet tip of my cock—her lips parted and her eyes wide. She watches her hand move over me, and my cock grows even harder. So fucking hot.

“I don’t want to wait.” Her gaze returns to mine for a split second before she resumes watching her hand. So hot.

She lowers her head and drags a slow, wet path along the underside of my cock. It’s all I can do not to thrust up into that heat, that perfect mouth, but I somehow manage to keep my hips still.

She slowly lowers her mouth over the head of my cock, and I don’t dare blink, don’t dare look away.

We never did this before. I thought about it. Christ, did I think about it—then and since. But until that last night together, we took things slow. She was so innocent and eager to hand me all her firsts. But we’re not the same people we were then, for better or worse, and tonight I’m no longer the delinquent kid who needs to worry that Brinley’s life will fall apart around her just because she’s associating with me. And she’s no longer the girl who jumps at her father’s shadow.