Unraveling Blake Earnshaw Book 1: The Rich Prick Read online

  Eve giggles. “That’s mysterious.”

  I find a sparser patch of foliage within the thick brush, consisting of mountain harebells, where I can spy on them without getting caught if I crouch low.

  Earnshaw’s lips meet Eve’s. She lets him in, and the kiss deepens. He unties the knots holding her dress and bikini top. Her dress falls to her waist and Earnshaw discards the bikini top in a hurry. He nips her neck and pushes her against the trunk of a cottonwood. She arches her back against it when he flicks his tongue and sucks on her right nipple. Voyeurism was not part of my plan, but my body is a traitor. I tell myself it’s deprivation and nothing to do with Blake Earnshaw himself. My legs weaken at the knees. This tingling sensation reaches all the way down to my toes.

  “Oh my God.” Eve pants.

  Earnshaw silences her with his finger at her lips. When she tries to mumble incoherently anyway, he eats her words with another kiss. She surrenders, her body melting into his. There’s a short break when Earnshaw tosses his shirt aside. I gauge how close it landed to me and if I can grab it without them noticing. It’s still not what I want, but it’s better than nothing. Do I go for it or do I wait?

  My eyes drift to Earnshaw’s rippling muscles. His back, his arms, his hands tearing off Eve’s dress and bikini bottom. He cups her and she moans while riding his hand, begging him to fill her with his fingers. She grips his shoulder with one hand and fumbles with the button of his jeans with the other. When she succeeds, she moves to his zipper, pulls down his jeans and boxer briefs—almost. Earnshaw stops her.

  “What?” She gasps. “What’s wrong?”

  Earnshaw unearths his hard-on, but otherwise keeps his boxer briefs and his jeans. He takes a condom from his jeans pocket, but he doesn’t need them after that. I try to focus on that, to wait for his boxer briefs, because he has to take them off, but my mouth dries. No-strings-attached sex with a guy like Blake Earnshaw, a moment to forget everything but simple physical pleasure …

  I shake my head, bite my lip. I need to get it together. This isn’t like me. Besides, no one but Johan could want me anymore. If only he didn’t want me as more than a casual fuck. I’d take it. I’d take it right now. My period cramps can be severe, and Earnshaw has made my body sensitive. I want to come. I lift my skirt to touch, I’m so eager to go inside myself that I almost consider removing my menstrual cup.

  “You’re not going to drop the rest?” Eve asks.

  “No.” Earnshaw hasn’t opened the condom wrapper, either. Why?

  Eve takes him in hand, feeling out his size. She squeezes and twists more aggressively and peeks up at him, gauging his reaction. He isn’t affected in the slightest. His tone is mildly bored when he says, “Something about power is intoxicating, isn’t it?”

  Earnshaw catches Eve’s hands and slams them against the tree trunk, trapping her. She squeaks and shudders, suddenly trembling.

  “What are you hoping to get out of this?” He tightens his grip.

  “I-I don’t know. You kissed Teagan and have sort of been flirting with other girls to make Chloe jealous, right? I’m always hiding behind Mia and Zoe, but they hate you, and I thought that meant I might—”

  “You thought you might have a chance to get a piece of the untouchable Blake Earnshaw. I can see the allure. People always want what they can’t have.”

  “S-so we weren’t having a moment?”

  “Moment enough. I’m hard, aren’t I?”

  “W-what—”

  “I’ve got an itch you can scratch, hot tits, but that’s all you’ll get. Is that piece worth it? You can be my whore, but you’ll never have the money and prestige that come with my name. You don’t have bragging rights like Teagan, either, because we’re not on camera. No one but you and I will know what happened here.”

  Tears drizzle down Eve’s cheeks. Earnshaw lets her go. She gathers her clothes and gets dressed in a rush. I crouch lower and remain undetected as she runs past me without a second thought or glance.

  I scramble for Earnshaw’s shirt. He’s just standing there, staring up at the leafy canopy, so it’s now or never. I should have done this sooner. I’m about to pour the last of my chili juice onto the fabric—I guess it’s a better bet than his beer at this point—but I don’t pop the cork in time. Earnshaw’s hand finds my wrist and his other finds my waist, dragging me to him. I’ve been here before, bound against his rock-hard body.

  “I was wondering when you’d show yourself,” he says.

  “You knew I was there the whole time?” I swallow, but the lump in my throat grows.

  “You’re an amateur stalker, and you aren’t wearing your camo.”

  My entire body goes rigid when his hard-on meets my lower back. “Let me go. Johan’s looking for me.” He must be. My phone is on silent, but I’m sure he’s texted and called. Sarah too.

  “What were you planning to do with this chili juice?”

  “Pour it on the crotch of your boxer briefs. They’re even black. You wouldn’t have noticed until you slipped them on, and by then it would have been too late.”

  “I wouldn’t have fallen for that.” He shakes the mini glass bottle, red-orange liquid sloshing around. “If you had drunk this and then found me, offering to give me head, that would have done it.”

  “Sure, because you wouldn’t have asked questions or kissed me first.”

  “I’ll let you do it right now.”

  I laugh. “You are insane!”

  Earnshaw pops the cork. “Open wide.”

  I flail when he grasps my jaw, but I don’t open my mouth. I give him enough trouble that he goes for my nose. Still, I keep my mouth closed. My elbow finds his stomach, but it’s not enough. One firm arm is all he needs to expel the last of the air from my aching lungs. My lips part with a quiet pop.

  “Don’t give what you can’t take,” Earnshaw says as chili juice touches my tongue. It’s fire, as if my entire body is flushing, but it doesn’t fill my mouth.

  Earnshaw shoves me and I fall to my knees. I’m okay. A drop, or whatever he forced down me, is hotter than anything I’d ever want to eat, but it’s nothing compared to drinking a shot of the stuff. It’s a trickle of fire, a match compared to a bonfire.

  I don’t stand, don’t try to flee. I stare at the grass underneath me, the stains on my white dress where I landed on my knees, and try not to breathe fire. Earnshaw crouches in front of me. He catches my gaze with forest eyes. “What did you hear in the parking lot?”

  I hiss through my teeth, expecting to see actual flames emerge with my breath. “Nothing.”

  “You want more of this?” He shoves the chili juice under my nose.

  I gag and spider-crawl backward, but Earnshaw’s hand clamps around the back of my neck. As his fingers dig into my skin and pinch the loose strands of my hair, I shiver.

  “What did you hear?” Earnshaw repeats and presses the bottle to my lips. The heat zaps my skin and the fumes bring tears to my eyes. My nose lets loose twin rivers of thin mucus.

  “You were talking to your father,” I say between sniffing and straining against Blake Earnshaw, “fighting with him about something. Whatever that something is, you want it, and you think being a prick will get you it—and maybe someone named Ricky will assist you too. You must not give a damn about Chloe.”

  Abruptly, Earnshaw releases me. My back hits the forest floor before I can catch myself, crushing mountain harebells. Corey loved these little bell-shaped blue flowers, so I have this intense urge to apologize. Earnshaw moves a few paces to my left and holds the mini glass bottle over another patch of mountain harebells.

  “Stop!” I shout when he tilts the bottle. “You’ll kill them!”

  He actually hesitates. “Kill what?”

  “Those … flowers.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but it seems like it could be.

  For a moment, Earnshaw stares at me. Then he pours the chili juice onto the wildflowers anyway. Even in the dusky light, the liquid is bright. Like neon blood.
>
  Don’t look.

  “What do you want?” I ask warily.

  “That doesn’t concern you.”

  “Neither does you staying in my lovely chalet, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s your deal, Earnshaw?”

  “What’s yours, Hackett?”

  I glance at the abandoned drinks. Too bad they won’t douse the flames. I breathe in another searing breath and tell myself the burn is bearable—as sweat beads on my skin and I wipe my nose with my arm. Gross.

  Earnshaw fixes his pants and dons his shirt. He doesn’t seem interested in me anymore. In fact, he starts walking away.

  “Are you letting me go?” I ask.

  “Am I holding you captive?”

  “What were you talking about on the phone?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Your boyfriend is looking for you, remember?”

  “How do I get rid of you?”

  Earnshaw stomps over to me, yanks me onto my feet by my wrists, and says, “If you want answers to your questions, they cost a kiss apiece.”

  Asshole. I tangle my fingers in his dark hair and bring his lips to mine. Then I kiss him. The chili burn seems to scatter between us before reigniting to levels much hotter than before. Earnshaw finds my waist, drawing me closer to him to feel him wanting. I squeeze my thighs together, tighter and tighter, while restraining the moan trying to escape my lips.

  “What were you talking about on the phone?” I ask breathlessly. “Wait.” My stomach drops. “You didn’t say your answers would be the truth.”

  “Sharp.”

  “Damn you.”

  “Worth it for a kiss of fire.”

  “Good, because I smudged your makeup. Your bruise is showing.”

  Earnshaw chuckles.

  “What would you have said in answer to my question?”

  “Oh, I was talking to Daddy Dearest about my harem, of course.”

  “That must be a lie.”

  “Kiss me again and see what answer you get this time.”

  “No. I’m not your whore. I hate you.” I shove him. He’s so sturdy that he doesn’t have to oblige, but he does.

  “And yet you’ll watch me and touch yourself as though you’re starved.”

  I freeze. He saw me. He wasn’t simply aware of my presence. He was spying on me.

  “Don’t worry, Hackett. I won’t tell.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I stare at my phone as I traverse mural-like stone pathways crisscrossing along the outside of the Radebaugh Mansion; the design is most prominent in the courtyard, where there’s an exotic garden Mom might have been envious of if she were the envious type. The words making up the texts Johan and Sarah sent are jumbled because my vision is blurry. I type and send replies to say I’m okay. Johan gets an extra message to let him know I’m at the east door that leads into the first-floor lounge.

  While I wait for him, I try to read Sarah’s millions of texts again, the ones she sent before getting worried about me. They’re the play-by-play of the contest, starting with when Will took his first sip of the chili beer.

  OMG his eyes are so big.

  His face is turning red, but still chuggin’.

  Hiccups!

  Can’t do it. He quit. Johan won as predicted.

  Wish you could have seen this for yourself. :(

  The pain continues.

  How long will it burn?

  I shoot Sarah another text so that it doesn’t look like I’m suddenly indifferent to the Will revenge. Karma. Don’t pity him. It’ll burn for a while, but let him suffer. Sad I missed it, though. :( Gotta give the winner his reward. ;)

  Sarah replies immediately with a variety of kissing emojis.

  I hug my middle. Somehow, that altercation with Blake Earnshaw has made my cramps worse. I sigh and listen as crickets chirp at inconsistent intervals, unsure of the revived dance beat booming from the beach. After seating myself on the single step below the door I’ll meet Johan at, I cover my face with my hands. My insides are hot from the chili juice, but they aren’t boiling anymore. I blow out a smoldering breath and catch Mom’s locket to open it and study the picture inside.

  Mom updated the picture every year. This one was taken last Christmas. Each member of the family is wearing matching green-and-red sweaters. Still-sticky present bows are in our hair. Harvey and Dad stand in back, arms encircling us in a big hug. How we managed to time this pose right for an automatic picture without becoming robots, I’ll never know, but it’s perfect. Idyllic. Everyone has a genuine smile, the kind that precedes laughter. Even Rex is smiling—with his dangling long pink tongue.

  “Hey, Tea.”

  I jolt and close Mom’s locket as if to hide my crime. After dropping the locket to hang around my neck, I stand and walk into Johan’s open arms. “The winner has arrived,” I say. He must be against shirts tonight, not that I mind. His skin is a comfort, and I need.

  “What happened? Your dress is stained.”

  “Fell.”

  “That sucks. Are you hurt?”

  “They’ll come out, and no. I’m good.”

  Johan clears his throat. “Will thinks he’s dying. I almost think he’s dying.”

  “He’s fine. I tasted the stuff myself. It’s not that hot.”

  “You did?”

  “Kiss me and find out.”

  His lips meet mine. He takes one swipe inside my mouth with his tongue before jerking backward. “Whoa, damn.” He chuckles. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “No oral sex tonight to be safe.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “That’s how this stuff will make you cry.”

  “Then I’m extra glad we don’t normally eat chili peppers.”

  Harvey tried to convert the family to chili peppers, Johan too, but it never stuck.

  “You’re not even buzzed, are you?” I ask. “How many beers did you have?”

  “I’m buzzed, but not drunk. I had four. Sarah’s and your plan was a total success.” He nips my ear. “I want my reward.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Johan takes my hand and kisses me every chance he gets. I don’t notice my surroundings, because it’s all him, but that’s not a problem when he’s guiding me and when my feet have memorized every path leading to his room on the second floor. Once we’re inside the coziest space in the mansion, Johan closes his door out of habit. I try to hit his bathroom, but he sweeps me off my feet and traps me on his half-made king-size bed. His hands explore, but since he wants skin and my dress is doing an excellent job of getting in the way, he focuses on my thighs, rolling up my skirt and sliding down my bikini bottom.

  I catch his hands to make him stop, though that’s the last thing I want. “Let me use the bathroom first. Didn’t Sarah tell you I’m on my period?”

  “I’m not scared of a little blood, Sexy T. We’ve done this before.”

  “That’s not my point.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to let you go now that I’m sure you want me again.”

  “That’s not going to change in the two seconds it takes me to use the bathroom.” But it might when I’m naked. My stomach and chest get heavy, as if they’re filling up with a viscous substance. Johan may have accepted what he saw of my scar, my skinniness too, but he could change his mind when he sees my lopsided boobs. Why wouldn’t he? Why hasn’t he yet? When the scar is visible, I’m not sexy anymore. At all. That’s a fact.

  It is what it is, and I’m not allowed to care.

  Johan cups my cheek. “Where’d your mind go? Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re seeing me.”

  I sit up and take off Mom’s locket; I set it and my wristlet on the nightstand. Then I unzip my dress and shimmy out of it. I’ve barely tossed it to the floor before I’m untying my bikini top. My heart hammers my chest as I toss it too.

  Johan stops breathing and blinking. It’s as if time has frozen.

  My voice quavers despite my conscious effort to make it strong and clear. “Say somet
hing.”

  Johan’s eyes aren’t blue under the shadow of his consternation; they’re hiding behind gray clouds and misty rain. He wraps his arms around me so softly it’s as if he thinks I’m made of glass and will shatter otherwise. Carefully, he pulls me onto his lap. Our chests meet, but our heartbeats are dissonant, frantic with their isolated rhythms. I choke back a sob. Once. Doing it a second time is out of the question. My head collapses against his shoulder, my tears flowing like waterfalls. I berate myself, but I can’t stop when over and over he whispers, “I love you.”

  His light is too bright, maybe bright enough to erase the darkness. But darkness is where I belong. This has to end. Now.

  I push against him until he lets me go and crawl to the farthest-from-him corner of his bed, where I fold my arms and say, “This, trying to pick up where we left off, was a mistake. We’re over, okay? Officially. I don’t love you anymore.”

  Johan works his jaw. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. You don’t understand.”

  “I miss them too. Your dad was like a second father to me. Hell, your home was like a second home.” He tugs at his short blond hair. “I tried everything I could think of, and you went on a ‘vacation’ with Harvey.”

  “Why are you saying ‘vacation’ like that?”

  “How stupid do you think Sarah and I are? We called Harvey a few times when we couldn’t get a hold of you. He didn’t say anything about a vacation. He said you weren’t ready to see anyone and told us we couldn’t come over. I tried to anyway, but he caught me and sent me away.”

  I’m dumbfounded. They’ve all kept this a secret from me?

  “I guess he knew you’d do it if he didn’t. It hurt less when he did it.” Johan wipes away the two tears that race down his cheeks. More try to fall, but he wipes his eyes too. “You need help, but I don’t know how to help you. I spread the word at school this morning, told everyone to act cool and not to bother you. I thought it would be enough. What am I supposed to do?”

  I scoot off his bed and sweep up my belongings to cradle them in my arms.

  “Teagan, wait. Please!” Johan lurches forward, capturing me.