Page 5 of Hush, Hush

Our fathers’ cigar smoke has filled the room with a heavy scent. The lull of the rocking yacht is enough to make anyone fall asleep, but I never let time slip by like that when I’m with Keegan. “You sure?” she asks, darting mistrusting eyes toward the other figure in the room who’s leaning against the arm of the couch looking bored as ever. Honestly, he’s always been easiest to take one-on-one, away from other people where he thinks he has to be a certain type of person to be respected.

“Yeah, of course.”

She stands, covering a yawn. “I’ll see you in the morning then.” Before she walks away, she wavers a bit, assessing the situation. She got my father’s evaluating nature, that’s for sure. Eventually, she spins on her heel and walks down the curved stairs toward her private stateroom.

With Keegan and I alone, it’s hard to remember what he said to me before dinner. I’ve already claimed ownership over him in my head, chalking up his mistakes to the world we were raised in where we want for nothing.

It was the same for me when I was young. Most little princesses ask for ponies, and I did the same. My classmates and I all had them—several, even. It was only from watching programs on television that I noticed it wasn’t like that for everyone. Middle class families didn’t get the revolutionary new gadget that just hit the stores or a brand new phone the minute they got a cracked screen. They didn’t go to expensive schools and play sports that cost more than some people’s cars. We were spoiled, there’s no other way around saying it. Only, some of us mature faster than others and realize that we shouldn’t keep taking advantage of our parents’ wealth. Instead, we should do something with our own.

“Your sister’s out of control,” Keegan bites out. He scowls toward the curved staircase where Eden retreated. “Your dad should do something about her.” He changes the channel on the television a little too forcefully, smashing his finger into the remote.

Eden’s the black sheep of the Astor family. I fight for her constantly, but no one else understands why she’s determined to distance herself from the rest of us. “She’s fine, actually,” I reply. “She has a 4.0. She competes competitively in swimming and field hockey. She—”

“It’s cute that you always defend her,” he interrupts. “She doesn’t want anything to do with your family now, but one of these days, she’ll come around, begging for money. Trust me.”

Just his word choice makes my hackles rise. I’m not beingcute. “I think it’s great that she wants to make it on her own.”

“You would,” he says dismissively, the pure sass in his tone making my hands turn to fists. “She won’t be getting anything from us.”

I dissect his words. Surely, he doesn’t mean that evenifwe get together thathegets to say whether or not I give someone in my own family money. It’s supposed to be a joining of fortunes, not the Forbes taking over what’s ours.

I sigh because I just don’t know what to do with him yet. His thinking is skewed, fueled by his father’s chauvinism.

To add insult to injury, he glares at me before saying, “I can’t wait to live with that sigh for the rest of my life.”

Whoa. Rude. The face I see isn’t the same as the boy who told me heliked me, liked mewhen we were ten. He’s not the one who used to share everything with me. “I don’t think you understand how cruel you can sound sometimes.”

“I do. It’s my specialty.” He grins lifelessly at me. There’s no passion behind his words, just muted indifference. I don’t know which is worse. That he doesn’t like me right now, or that he doesn’t care enough to even feel that much. I give him some space, moving further away from him on the couch, but that just infuriates him further. “You know what’s fucked up?” He tosses the remote onto the glass coffee table in front of us. “The fact that I have every other girl throwing themselves into my lap, and the girl I’m supposed to marry can’t even stand being next to me.” He eyes the distance between us like he wishes he could set it on fire. Instead, he bridges it, imposing himself on me.

Slinking closer, he runs his hand up my leg. I scoot away, but the arm of the couch stops me from going further. Keegan has that determined look in his eye as he pushes my leg out of the way to press his body between my thighs. My breath hitches at the contact. I hate when he gets this close. It’s hard not to want things from him. “Is this just about sex?” I squeak.

“I have a dick. Of course it’s about sex.” He trails his palm up the inside of my calf, passes over my knee and then starts toward my upper thigh. I can’t close my legs because he’s currently between them. There’s no way to escape. My dress gets caught in his forward movement, so every inch he gains up my leg, the skirt of my dress goes with him. He hitches the hem over my hip, displaying my panties for him. “You want to know what I think? I think you secretly want me. You secretly love that I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk right away. Should I check your panties to find out?”

Dear God. I start to tremble. He skims his fingers closer, my muscles jumping underneath his touch. I already feel moisture seeping through my folds. I place my hand on his to stop him from going further, but he shakes it off.

“You’re still intact for me, aren’t you, Delilah?” Brushing his fingertips across the lining of my panties, he glues his eyes to the pink lace. When I don’t answer, he gazes up at me expectantly. I wonder what he would do if I said no. It would be a complete lie, but still. “It’s a simple question,” he prods.

“Of course,” I tell him, my breath coming out on an impassioned huff that’s evidence of how much he’s affecting me. Virginity isn’t part of the deal for our parents. I can screw whoever I want, as can he. It’smything. This picture-perfect ideal I have of the way things should be between Keegan and me.

His answering smirk makes me wish I’d told him no. It makes me want to find one of the crew members on this ship and just get it over with. The one thing that gives me power also makes Keegan’s head balloon up to three times its size.

He trails a finger down the center of the pink lace. “There it is,” he muses. I don’t need to look down to know that the dampness coming from me must be showing through my panties. My hips ache to buck toward him, but I keep them firmly in place. “To know this untouched pussy is waiting for me...” A rumble edges from the back of his throat. “This pure cunt you’ve been hiding. Ineedit, Delilah.” Slipping his finger just underneath the edge, he pulls the fabric of my panties away to run his finger along the inside seam. Chilled air passes over my core, making my muscles lock up. He hasn’t even touched me and I’m already breathless.

Pulling my panties further away, he lets go, making them snap back into place. I suck in a breath at the sting. Instead of hurting, however, it does the opposite. Immediately, I try to distract myself. “Why are you so obsessed with sex?”

He flits the pad of his thumb over my panty line. “You say that because you haven’t ridden my cock.”

Excitement pours over me. If he could just promise he’d be the man I need him to be, I’d ride him right now. If he’d tell me he’d accept me as an equal, as his partner moving forward, I’d impale myself on his cock like I’ve dreamed about. “Did you really fuck some girl just this morning?”

Trailing his finger down the center of my panties once more, he peers up. “Dee, I do what I want. The sooner you learn that, the better.” He licks his lips, returning his stare to my clothed core like a tiger on the prowl. “Like right now, I’m going to prove to you that you want me.” He peels the pink lace aside, revealing my pussy. He eyes it like a drug, and I swear I can feel my heart beat where his gaze is fixated.

“Keegan, don’t,” I warn. My body has already taken control though. Muscles locked into place, I can feel his breath fan over my sensitive flesh. My pussy contracts, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Afraid I’ll uncover your secret?” He blows across my drenched folds, and a shiver runs through me. Teasingly, he draws his fingers over my skin, slowly closing in on their destination one excruciating centimeter at a time.

I don’t say anything. Poised in the middle between meaning to tell him to knock it off to being intensely curious as to how far he’ll take this, I just stay where I am. He hasn’t touched me like this in too damn long.

He flicks his gaze up. I have no doubt my cheeks are flushed. My jaw is slack, breath held tightly in my chest in preparation for the first contact. I look nothing like someone who’s trying to fight him off. In fact, I’m just the opposite. He wets his lips. “You’re beautiful.”

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