I looked to Chloe and smiled as Vaughn pulled me along the path that led around the stone garden. She bit the bottom of her lip trying to stop herself from smiling back. She must have known; Vaughn must have told her how we felt about each other. Her smile was her blessing, I bet she was looking forward to the day we could officially be sisters-in-law. I giggled and gave her a low wave. I hoped she could be my maid of honor one day and I could be hers.
Along the walkway, trees branched up and curved overhead. I glanced back once more and watched Chloe slide into the seat next to Matteo and the smile that lit up his face as she pulled her chair closer to him.
This was going to be the best summer ever.
Vaughn and I silently tiptoed under the trellises that lines the estate. Through leafy vines of ivy and thorny stems of roses until we slipped into the coolness of the air-conditioned house, kicking off our shoes and laughing.
We moved through the darkening halls, keeping to one side, sliding our socked feet along the cool marble of the floor. The dining area, where our parents and other adults sat earlier, was quieter now, only the clinking of the crystal and china dishes as the house staff cleaned whatever mess remained.
“Where are you taking me?” I giggled.
“Just to the library.” His breath hot against my ear.
The only light in the room came from the window as moonlight spilled through in a hazy glow. In the daylight their library was spectacular, windows from vaulted ceiling to floor alongside shelves of books the same length. Our fathers were business partners, but Vaughn Montgomery and his family came from old money, their home was practically a castle. One day I would live here as Vaughn Montgomery’s queen.
He reached up toward one of the shelves and pulled down a book. I was so focused on his handsome face I barely felt him slip it in my hands. “It’s a special edition of the Secret Garden,” he whispered, stepping closer.
The cover was made of velvet and I rubbed the palm of my hand over the top, struggling for the right words. “You bought me a book?”
“Your favorite one.” He was right, of course, and it made my pulse race, surging through my veins like lightning.
I looked away, suddenly shy and embarrassed, holding the book to my chest. I spun around and walked toward one of the reading tables, my hands trembling with nerves. I wanted him to follow and kiss me, but I didn’t know how to tell him. I hadn’t seen him for months. Could there have been a small chance he’d found another girl during the winter months when I was at home almost a hundred miles apart from him? I slid the book down onto the table when I felt him close behind me, his warm breath fanning out over the back of my shoulder.
“Did I upset you?” he whispered in my ear.
“No.” I could barely speak. “This…this is everything.”
His hands reached up and swept my hair to one side and I closed my eyes as he brushed his lips along the side of my neck. I was weightless, floating up from the small graze of his mouth on my skin. It was pure electric. His lips warm and wet, sent blood rushing up to my chest and set my skin on fire. Shivers crawled down my spine and an awful deep ache coiled between my legs, slicking my panties almost uncomfortably.
“Claire.” His voice broke over my name, half plea, half prayer. His hands ran up my arms, slow and deliberate, and when they reached my shoulders, he turned me to face him.
Does he feel like I do? Like it might be true love?
The heat from his body touched me first, so warm and encompassing I could drown in it. Then the scent of his soap or shampoo, something dark and heady and mouthwatering. Then his eyes drew me in, and his lips pressed down against mine. A whisper of a kiss, a sensation so light and soft, I could barely feel it at all. His hands reached up, tangling his fingers through my hair, and with a gentle tug he tipped my head back and heat bloomed in my chest. His lips pressed harder, devouring me so completely the world faded away around us.
Our mouths became frantic and needy, his tongue delicious and warm. His fingers clawed at the material of my dress, lifting it until the cold air blew against my legs.
Leaning back against the reading table, my dress hiked up around my waist, he pulled his head back to look down at me. His eyes annihilated me, destroying every inch of my body with his stare.
“How come I never noticed this before? You have a birthmark shaped like a heart.” He lowered himself and pressed his lips against the small red patch of skin just above my panty line making sparks of fire explode through my body. The sensation stole my breath away. His hands cupped over my bra, his mouth hot and wet against my skin, and somewhere in the back of his throat a moan rumbled out and all I could think of was getting closer to him.
A sudden loud giggle sent us flying ten feet away from each other, both of us panting, searching through the dim light of the room to see who was there with us.
Another laugh rumbled out, this time a deeper one. It wasn’t in the room with us, but there where people close by. I smoothed down my dress to Vaughn’s dismay. “Later,” I whispered, “when the ‘rents are all asleep.”
Then a small whimper echoed out, like an animal hurt. Vaughn stiffened and tiptoed to the window. A creaking sound moaned out next, scratching and scratching. It sounded like the poor creature was trapped somewhere and was trying to get out. We drew the curtains to look outside, but there was nothing but grass and a dark fog rolling in, with a promise of rain.
Again, another small whimper. This time it was low and long. Was the kitchen staff hiding a kitten? Was it hurt somewhere? Vaughn took my hand and we followed the sound.
We stepped lightly through the darkness of the hall and into the next room—one I had never stepped foot in, Mr. Montgomery’s office.
Books and strange artifacts lined floor-to-ceiling shelves and the entire room seemed to glow from the soft yellow light that streamed down from an antique-style lamp in the far-right corner.
In the middle of the room a man sat back against the dark leather of the couch, one arm stretched out along the back of its headrest, the other wound his fingers in a fistful of a woman’s hair. She was straddled over him, her back arched as he pulled back on the strands. The bare shoulders of the woman shivered, and I caught a glance of the man’s face. His eyes closed, lips parted, breathing in sharp gasps. It was Vaughn’s father. “It’s been too long,” his voice rasped.
The woman moaned, her hips writhing in slow circular motions. It was the noise we heard, the strange hurt animal noise.
Vaughn and I stood frozen, wide-eyed. My skin crawled with a sudden filth and I instantly wanted to back away and douse my eyes with bleach.
Mr. Montgomery’s hands dropped, grabbing onto the woman’s hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. The woman’s hair spilled off her shoulders, cascading down her back in long golden curls.
But Mrs. Montgomery didn’t have golden curls.
It was a few moments before we came to understand what we were seeing, standing in the threshold of that room holding hands, our lives suddenly spinning out of orbit. “No fucking way,” Vaughn growled.
“Mom?” I cried, stepping farther into the room, heart pounding. Vaughn grabbed at my arm, desperately trying to pull me away. I couldn’t go back, though. I wanted to rip them apart. I wanted to claw her skin away from his. “Mom? What are you doing? What are you doing!”