Page 5 of Privilege
She still looks confused, and I swallow.I am deeply unprepared for this.I feel like a virgin without a condom standing in front of a girl who has finally said yes.
“We’ll need, you know,attire.Like, garden party clothes…”
“I don’t really have anything Rich,” she says quietly. “I brought my regular summer stuff. Shorts, tees, a few cotton dresses…”
Shit. Shit!It never occurred to me to tell her about theLoafer Laws. I've never dated anyone who didn’t come from, well, the same background. All my girlfriends were from Cranbrooke, the all-girls boarding school next to Waldron Prep. Most of them also summered in the Hamptons. They all knew the rules.
At the exact moment I am realizingexactlyhow badly I fucked up, there’s a knock on the door. It swings open without a response from either of us, and my stomach sinks right through the floor.
“The fun has arrived,” drawls the most annoying voice on the entire goddamn planet.
Dane.
Fuck.
Chapter Three
Cara
I flush. It’s aninvoluntary response to the guy in the doorway holding a dry-cleaning bag. He looks like he just finished fucking someone’s mom. Like there’s a trail of naked women littering the hallway, panting and covered in sweat and cum.
Jesus Christ.
The Walking Orgasm breezes past Rich and tosses the bag on the bed beside me. He grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth, bright green eyes staring down at me as he kisses the back of my hand. His lips linger.
“What are you doing home?” Rich snaps in an uncharacteristically nasty tone.
“Taking care of the things you can't,” he mutters. He doesn’t break eye contact with me. The pad of his thumb brushes my knuckles.
I yank my hand away and scramble backwards on the bed, but he tosses himself down beside me, rolls onto his side, and props his head up with one hand.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Cara,” he says. “I’ve heardsomuch about you.”
He crowds me, boxes me in despite the bed being the size of Texas, the front of his slack-covered thigh brushing against mine. Those green eyes glint with… I’m not sure what. A dare? A promise?A death sentence?
I swallow and try to sit up but he looms over my body and sticks his tan, muscular forearm in my way. His crisp white linen shirt is pushed up to the elbows.
You’re going to wrinkle,I think stupidly.
We’re so close our noses are practically touching.Is it normal to feel your heartbeat in your throat?He reaches all the way across my body and grabs the hanger of the dry cleaning bag, which he slowly drags across my lap. I jump when his fingertips graze my thigh.
He smirks.
Definitely a death sentence.
I shimmy away and clear my throat. “What’s this?” I ask, holding the bag in front of me like a shield.
“A dress,” he says slowly, like I’m stupid.
“Why did you get me a dress?”
“Because I knew my brother wouldn't.”
I blink, stunned.Brother?My head snaps to the side and I glare at Rich. I knew he didn’t like talking about his family, and I never pushed. But I’d always assumed he was an only child. He’s never,ever,mentioned a brother.
“Step-brother,” Rich says coldly. “And I didn’t know Mother would be throwing a party.”
The brother quirks an eyebrow, still lounging lazily on the bed. “That’s just stupid. Clearly your education is workingwonders.”
