ARROGANT PLAYBOY (40 page)

I have to have her—now.
It’s not carnal; it’s a craving much deeper. My cock swells from her kiss,
enhanced from the way her body is pressed against mine. I reach for her pants,
unbuckling her jeans and then mine.

“What are you doing?” Her voice
is breathless as she pulls from my mouth.

I pull a condom from my wallet
and sheath myself before taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs. Waverly
climbs onto my lap, lowering herself into me. Her hips rock and circle, her head
tilts backward. I grip her hips, guiding her up and down. She’s so fucking
tight, her muscles clenching around me with each fluid movement.

There’s an intimate sensuality
in her eyes I’ve never seen before, I recognize it the second our eyes meet.
And the warmth threading through my veins? That must be what love feels like.

She moans, louder than ever,
celebrating the fact that we don’t have to muffle ourselves here because the
party inside drowns out our passionate sounds. And then she calls my name, gripping
my shoulders as she rocks back and forth. She runs her tongue along the length
of her bottom lip, her eyes shut tight.

I feel the buildup in the base
of my cock, spreading to the tip, seconds away from exploding. Her body tenses
as her fingers dig into me, and she rides me harder, faster. My release is
urgent, hot, and her body clenches around my cock as she breathes my name once
more.

She collapses, her head on my
shoulder as our chests rise and fall against one another.

That time was different.

I’m going to tell her I love
her. Maybe not right now. But I will. Because I do.

I fucking love Waverly Miller.

WAVERLY

“Waverly, wake up.” There’s panic in his
voice. My face is warm, my eyelids the color of warm amber. I blink, rubbing my
eyes.

And then I panic. “Jensen!”

It’s daylight. We’re lying on
the floor of the balcony where we passed out the night before.

“Oh, my God. Shit. Shit. Shit!”
I’ve never said any of those words before, and now I don’t even care that I’ve
said them. My mind spins in tandem with my churning stomach.

“Mark’s going to murder us.”
Jensen’s tone is more matter-of-fact than urgent as he pulls me up and then
pats his pockets for his keys. We slip inside the apartment, out the door, and
spring down the stairs, two at a time.

I’m not sure why we’re in such
a hurry. It’s not like getting home any faster will save us from what’s about
to happen. If anything we should be taking our time, prolonging the unavoidable
punishment my father will fling our way.

It’s going to be bad.

It’s going to be really,
really, really bad.

Jensen starts up his truck,
wiping the condensation off the glass with the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t
seem scared, but I know better. He should be terrified.

We endure the silent drive
across town, neither of us saying a word until we pull up in front of the main
house.

“Okay,” Jensen says. “Here’s
what we’re going to say.”

My mouth is dry, my tongue
smacking against the inside, but I can still taste last night’s beer. “Let’s
just be honest and truthful.”

“That’s the worst fucking thing
we can do right now.” He shakes his head, shutting off his engine. “I coerced
you into hanging out with Liberty last night. We watched a movie. We fell
asleep. Liberty will cover for us.”

“Yeah, but we smell like
cigarettes and alcohol.”

Jensen pops his glove box, and
mists me with some kind of body spray neutralizer before handing me a pack of
gum.

“They’re not going to believe
us,” I say, shoving the mint gum into my mouth.

“This is the best shot we
have.” He peers over my shoulder, looking into the house. “And there he is.”

I turn around, seeing my dad
standing in the front door, his hands on his hips, and his face wearing the
chilliest expression I’ve ever seen. My stomach drops clear to the floor, and
I’m two seconds from telling Jensen to just drive. I wish more than anything we
could just stay in the car, drive away, and never look back.

“Let’s do this.” Jensen has a
warrior mentality. He’s fearless. Always ready for battle. He saves people. He
defends the defenseless.

But I’m positive he can’t save
me right now.

Any hope I had of redeeming
myself, any optimism I held for my future… gone.

We climb out of the truck and
death march toward the front door, following my silent father inside. It’s past
breakfast and the younger kids play quietly in the family room. Without saying
a word, we head straight to the dining room.

Mom, Summer, and Kath are seated
in the dining room, their hands folded neatly, their faces bleak and their eyes
holding fear. They’re not afraid for my punishment, though—they’re afraid
for my soul. Whatever retribution my father deems appropriate is going to be
okay with them. I can see it on their faces.

The fact that my father has
said zero words is an alarming testament to the fact that he’s beyond his
breaking point. His anger subsided long before we arrived home, and it has
evolved into a disturbing, quiet rage.

“I’m not going to ask where you
were last night.” His statement throws a slight wrench in our plan. “It doesn’t
matter. All that matters is you disobeyed me. You disrespected the house rules,
and you disgraced Heavenly Father.”

My mothers are silent, judging
us like a jury bred to side with the prosecution.

“From now until graduation,
Jensen, you are to stay in Kath’s house. You will eat, sleep, and shower there.
You are not to set foot near the main house, or Waverly, ever again.” My
father’s voice booms, echoing through the dining room. I peer over his shoulder
for only a moment to see Bellamy hiding around the corner, listening in. “You
will look me in the eye at all times, Waverly.”

My eyes dart to my father’s,
which are intensely stormy and send an uncontrollable shake to my fingers.

“Jensen, you are to pack your
things and leave within the next forty-eight hours. You cannot stay here any
longer. We have shown you kindness, hospitality, and generosity, and you have
repaid us by leaving a squall in your path of unrighteousness and demonstrating
blatant disrespect.”

I pull in deep breath after
deep breath. This isn’t so bad. We’re both adults. We’ll figure out a way to be
together again. I’m quite positive Jensen’s silently plotting how to carefully
extract me out of the house along with him. Forty-eight hours from now, we’ll
both be long gone.

“Kath, kindly take
your
son to your house,” my father
grits. “He is not to set foot in this house ever again. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mark.” Kath stands up,
tapping Jensen’s arm and motioning for him to follow.

Jensen’s dark eyes lock in
mine, and then his lips curl into an arrogant smile, one that assures me he’ll
absolutely defy my father’s wishes.

Jensen loves me, even if he
can’t say it, and I think my father knows. I think he knew long before either
of us did. He saw it written on our faces before we had a chance to acknowledge
any of it.

The click of the sliding door
tells us Jensen and Kath are gone. I miss his presence already. He grounds me,
gives me something to cling to when I’ve nothing else.

“And as for you.” My father’s
words come from a dark place, his hands splayed on the table before me. He
lowers his face to mine. “There’s only one solution for my wayward daughter.”

I tremble, weighed down by his
fierce stare.

“You’re endangering your
virtue, Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” His
lips tighten as he pauses. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Not yet.”

I know. I know in the deepest,
darkest part of my soul. My eyes dart to my mother, silently pleading with her
to stop this and ignoring every part of me that knows she holds no weight in
this household.

“Your marriage has been
arranged. Your husband has been chosen for you.” My father speaks like a judge,
sentencing me to life in prison with no possibility of parole.

“No!” My voice is a shrill
shriek, which I hardly recognize as my own.

He places his finger in the air
to silence me. “Waverly, this is enough. You need to keep sweet and know that I
am doing what’s best for you.”

“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t.
I can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” I’m pleading,
desperate and frantic, losing any ounce of sweetness I once had. “I’m supposed
to go to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to
get married yet, I—”

“Silence.” He raises his hand,
threatening to slap my mouth into muteness. “The decision has been made.
Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. The car is fueled and ready
for the drive.”

My sister appears from around
the corner, like she’d been waiting for this moment. Her blank expression tries
to hide her co-conspirator smugness, but I see it in her eyes. She’s known
about this all along.

“You fucking traitor.”

I’ve never uttered words like
that in my father’s house before. I brace myself for a slap across the mouth
that never comes. I shut my eyes, recalling how it felt several years back when
I’d accidentally broken a cherished vase that once belonged to my father’s
grandmother. I lied about it, received five open-handed slaps across the mouth,
solitary confinement for twenty-four hours, and extra chores for a month.
Swearing in my father’s house is way worse than lying.

But the slap never comes.

My eyes peel apart. My father
still stands before me. Unmoving.

I straighten my shoulders. “I
want to talk to Jensen. I have to tell him goodbye. You have to let me see
him.”

If we’re leaving immediately, I
won’t have time to conspire with Jensen. How will I find him? How will he find
me?

All this time, my father was
laying low, waiting for one single lapse in judgment. Waiting patiently for me
to slip up just once. He thrives off these opportunities, probably thrilled to
be able to teach me a lesson and make me submit one last time. He lives to
remind us all he’s in control.

I hadn’t even tasted freedom
before it was all washed away. Jensen was right. Everything was an illusion all
along.

I succumb to hysterics, copious
tears I didn’t know I was crying stream down my cheeks and fall into the table
below. My face is red, puffy, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, though
I’m not sure what I’m saying anymore.

“I’m sorry, Waverly,” Bellamy
says, her arms folded and her demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will.
This is for the best, really. It won’t be so bad.”

I hate her. I hate my sister. I
will hate her the rest of my days.

“Jane,” my dad says, “take
Waverly to pack her belongings. The car is leaving in thirty minutes.”

“No, no, no, no…” I wail,
flailing as my mother pulls me up the stairs. We get to my room, where a
suitcase is sitting open-faced on my bed. “I’m not going, Mom. You can’t make
me go. Don’t do this. Please. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She ignores my pleas as she
rifles through my drawers and closet, pulling clothes and neatly packing them
into the suitcase as if I’m going on a pleasant little vacation.

“Brigham Young said that all
women must submit to their husbands.” My mother breaks her silence with a
convenient quote. “God gives husbands the wisdom and ability to lead us into
his presence. We must trust our husbands to lead us on the righteous path so
that we may gain entrance into the kingdom of Heaven. It’s the only way,
Waverly.”

She zips my suitcase and stands
before me. She’s never been a touchy feely kind of mother, but her hand cups my
cheek, wiping away a stray tear. It’s only fitting that the first and only time
my mother shows tenderness toward me is going to be the last.

“We’re doing this because we
love you,” she says. Her lips form a pained smile. I don’t think she wants to
send me away, but she doesn’t believe she has a choice. “Build up your husband
by being submissive. He will take care of you for all of your days.”

I shake my head, refusing to
believe this is real life. I pray it’s a bad dream, that I’ll wake up any
second now.

“Your husband’s name is Harold
McGill. You’ll be his sixth wife. He’s an extremely prosperous businessman with
a lot of land and resources in South Dakota. He’ll take good care of you. He’s
taken in wayward daughters before, and they’ve grown up to become perfect AUB wives.”
My mother speaks as if I’ve won the jackpot of prospective husbands.

Bellamy slips into the room.
“The car’s ready to go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

I refuse to look at her, so I
stare down at the blue carpet that’s covered my room for as long as I can
remember. It’ll be the last time I ever see it, and I’m not sure how I feel
about that.

Bellamy escorts me downstairs
where my father and Summer stand by the front door to see me off. I don’t meet
their gazes. I didn’t know it was possible for love to just vanish into thin
air the way it has just now. Family bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, and
if that’s the case, these people aren’t my family.

I stop before my father,
staring over his shoulder just enough that he knows I can’t look him in the
eye. “I never want to see you again.”

Summer gasps. “Waverly, don’t
say such things.”

My eyes finally shift into my
father’s. I say the one thing I know will hurt him the most. “You’re dead to
me.”

My father doesn’t flinch or
react. He extracts a heavy breath from the air, his shoulders as firm as his
belief system. I’m sure he’s justifying this decision six ways from Sunday in
his mind, believing this is all for the greater good. He probably thinks he’s
saving my soul, and if that’s the case, there’s absolutely no changing his
mind.

“I never want to see any of you
ever again.” I spit my words at them, pointing my finger, my gaze darting from
Dad and Summer to Mom. Their stares are weighted with pity and prayers. I can
practically feel them saying silent prayers for my soul, asking Heavenly Father
to forgive me for not knowing better and to forgive them for years of failed
teachings. “Go to Hell. All of you.”