The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

“I have some ideas,” he said.

With my hand pressed to him, Royce’s heartbeat was a slow, steady drum. If the roles had been reversed, he would have felt mine hammering in my chest. His thumb moved, brushing slowly over the back of my hand, and tension coiled in my body. I thought he’d back down, but instead he’d returned the challenge, upping the ante. How far was he willing to take this? And . . . how far was I willing to let it escalate?

Each tiny stroke of the pad of his thumb made me want to push further. Every quiet breath we took with our stares locked on each other gave me the courage to keep playing the game.

“Was the girl down the hall not enough for you?” I asked.

“Girl down the—” Confusion darted through him, only to be replaced with a slow smile. “Vance was fucking some blonde when I walked by the guest bedroom. You thought that was me?” When I didn’t answer, his voice dipped lower. “My brother probably left the door open because he wanted an audience. Did you watch them?”

“Maybe.” I dropped my book, and it thudded onto the leather of the ottoman. I graduated from pressing my hand to him to my whole body. The crinoline beneath the skirt of my dress crushed softly between our thighs. Pleasure washed through his expression and simmered into something else.

Something darker and hotter.

His hand was gone, only so he could slip it behind me and lock me in place to him. My white dress was demure in the front but backless, and a shiver glanced down my spine as his fingertips settled on my bare skin. I tilted my chin up, wanting to look strong as his unwavering eyes threatened to undo me completely.

“I like this dress,” he said, trailing his fingers up my back, dragging them along each ridge of my vertebrae like he was counting stacks of money. “But would Medusa wear white? She wasn’t a virgin, after all.”

There was so much sex laced in his voice, I was going to combust and spoke without thinking. “Well, I’m not Medusa.”

The corner of his mouth lifted like it was on a hook. “Is that so?”

Was I supposed to feel shame I hadn’t fucked anyone when I was twenty years old? Like there was something wrong with me? Or was I supposed to feel pride I was a good girl and had kept myself pure?

Because I felt neither. “So what if I’m a virgin? Who fucking cares?”

Royce did, and I disliked the way he looked at me now, like I was a prize. I hated how society, even today, placed so much value on something entirely worthless. Yes, I hadn’t done it yet, but I was sure sleeping with someone wasn’t going to change me.

“How is that possible?” His hand continued to stroke lazily up and down my back, perhaps hoping to elicit another shiver. “No boyfriend while you were off at Etonsons?” A smile dripped off his lips. “Oh, that’s right. It’s an all-girls college.”

It was a strange feeling how my body liked being in his arms and yet the rest of me detested it.

Etonsons was one of the most prestigious schools in the country. They only accepted four percent of the women who applied there, and the private tuition was outrageous. Emily and I both attended, although her acceptance had been more on the strength of our mother’s legacy, whereas mine was my grades.

“What’s the reason you haven’t fucked anyone?” He studied me critically, searching for the answer.

“Economics keeps me busy,” I said casually. “I just haven’t found the time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Maybe I’m not into guys.”

He leaned down so his face was a scant inch from mine. “Try again. Your pupils are dilated. You’re out of breath, and I can see your pulse pounding in your neck. I’m sure if I put my hand up your skirt right now, my fingers would come away wet.”

“They wouldn’t,” I lied.

It was like he knew. “I bet you’re soaked.”

“Fine. Go ahead and do it,” I challenged, “and let’s see who’s right.”

I was glad I’d been gutsy enough to say it, and a thrill ghosted down my legs. He couldn’t accept my challenge. He’d have to cede ground. Everyone knew which Northcott sister he was supposed to end up with, and I wasn’t her. If he put his hand up my skirt, there’d be hell to pay.

But rather than act disappointed, satisfaction flooded the handsome face looming over me. “Oh, don’t you worry. I plan to.”

Breath stuttered and broke down in my lungs, sapping my confidence. He was older and had been playing this game a lot longer. What if I was in over my head? It had seemed like a bluff at first, but now I was less convinced. I lifted my arms and set my hands on his shoulders, drawing us toward the edge of danger.