A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: A Lancaster Prep Novel

I PRESS my cheek against the cool leather seat, blatantly staring at Crew Lancaster, not caring one bit that I might look foolish. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Drinking in all the male beauty sitting in front of me is almost overwhelming, he’s so attractive. I love how his cheeks turned slightly pink thanks to the cold air, making him look younger. Softer.

Though there’s not much about Crew’s face that anyone could consider soft. He’s all hard angles and sharp lines. High cheekbones, firm jaw and square chin. Dark brows that are currently lowered as he watches me, those cool blue eyes growing warmer the longer he stares, as if he likes what he sees.

I like what I see too.

The only thing I can consider soft on Crew’s handsome face is his mouth. His lips are pink, the lower lip much fuller than the top, and they’re currently parted, his gaze lingering on my mouth until it lifts to meet mine.

My body grows warm, and not just because of the thick coat I’m wearing. He’s thinking about kissing me. I know he is. And it’s all I want. I want to know what he tastes like. What kind of kisses will he deliver? Soft and sweet? Fierce and rough?

Maybe a combination of both.

“You keep staring at me like that and…” His voice drifts.

“And what?”

His broad chest rises and falls, as if he just took a deep, maybe even nervous, breath. “I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

“Tell me what you want to do to me.” Even though it scares me a little, I want to hear every single dirty word he can come up with.

All of them.

He glances over at the driver. “I don’t want to say it out loud. You might get embarrassed, Birdy.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I press my thighs together, trying to ease the sudden throbbing, but it only makes things worse. “Whisper it in my ear.”

Crew reaches out, his hand going to the seatbelt buckle and undoing it. I shrug the strap away from my body, letting him take my hand and pull me closer. Until I’m sitting in the center of the back seat, and he’s strapping me back in, his hand brushing against my chest as he pulls the belt across me, then pushes the buckle into the slot.

We’re sitting so close I can see the stubble lining his cheeks. Feel his body heat seeping into my side, making me even hotter. We stare at each other, the tension growing between us, and I swallow hard, ready to say something, when he leans in, his mouth at my ear, his soft exhale making me shiver.

“I want to kiss you. Taste you. Kiss your neck. Nibble it. Run my hands under your sweater, slip them under your bra, until I’m squeezing your tits. Pinching your nipples.”

I avert my gaze, my breaths coming faster.

“I’d take off your sweater. Your skirt. Kiss you all over your body. Tell you how fucking beautiful you are, because you are so damn beautiful, Wren. The prettiest little birdy I’ve ever seen.”

I close my eyes, savoring his compliment.

“I’d slip my hand beneath your panties and find you soaking wet. All for me. I’d finger you until you’re begging me to make you come, and when you eventually explode all over my hand, I’d make you lick my fingers clean.”

My eyes fly open to find him watching me, his gaze dark. Intense. I glance down at his lap to see he has an erection.

Oh God. What would he do if I reached over and touched it?

He moves even closer, his mouth brushing against my earlobe and I bite back the moan that wants to escape. “After I fucked you with my fingers, I’d fuck you with my tongue. I’d lick you from front to back, until you’re screaming and coming so hard you almost blackout.”

My heart races, my chest rising and falling so fast, it almost hurts. He pulls away, his gaze finding mine once more as he says, “That’s what I would do to you. For starters.”

There’s so much promise in his expression. In his words. And I realize I don’t want to be promised to my father anymore.

I want this boy. I don’t care if it doesn’t last. Maybe I don’t want it to.

I just want to know what it feels like to have a man make me come. To feel his soft hair brush against my thighs as he lavishes my most private spot with his tongue. His fingers. I want to touch him. Everywhere. I want to feel his mouth on mine, his tongue thrusting.

Without thought, I lunge forward, reaching for the beanie still on his head, tearing it off, exposing his rumpled hair. I thrust my hands into the silky softness, straightening it as best I can, not saying a word. He lets me, remaining quiet as well, his eyelids falling shut briefly when I continue stroking his hair, as if it feels good.

I hope it does. That’s all I want too. To make him feel good, in the hopes he’ll do the same for me.

“I’m not doing anything beyond kissing,” I warn him, not wanting him to think I’ll let this go any farther than that.

“I only want to kiss you,” he reassures, his lips quirked up in a barely-there smile.

The smile throws me off. Do I amuse him? I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Excited. Nervous. Scared. Ready.

All of the above.

“Okay…good. Because I’m not about to let you do whatever you want to me, just so you know.”

“Don’t worry, Wren. Your virginity is safe.” He pauses. “For now.”

I go completely still, staring at him.

If what we’re doing progresses further, then yes…

He’s right.

When I circle my shaking hands around his nape, he bends down, his mouth hovering just above mine.

“You know this isn’t going to end well,” he murmurs as he traces my jaw with his fingertips.

I stare at him, hating what he said.

Hating more that I agree with him.

“You sure you want me to be your first?” He drifts his fingers across my cheek, sliding them into my hair, holding the side of my head, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Because after I take one, I’m going to want them all.”

I nod slowly, unable to look away from him. He’s got me in a trance, and I don’t ever want to come out of it.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Birdy.” He returns his mouth to my ear, his voice a guttural whisper as he murmurs, “You promise to do the same for me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, a whimper leaving me when he pulls away slightly.

“Then I’m yours.” His lips brush mine. “All yours.”

The moment our mouths connect, I’m lost. He kisses me once. Twice. He hums low in his throat, and my body responds to the sound with a slow, steady pulse between my legs. I part my lips with every brush of his mouth, my breath catching when his tongue teases mine, then retreats.

Oh God. I want him to do that again.

His hand falls to my cheek, angling my head just so as we continue to kiss, his tongue teasing mine. Every gentle flick or slow circle of his tongue to mine makes me aware of my body. How it’s coming to life. Tingles sweeping over my skin. A surge of moisture between my thighs. His hand falls to my neck, his skimming fingers making me shiver as he tilts my head back further, deepening the kiss.

My body catches fire and I grip the back of his head, holding him to me. His other hand is at my waist and he tries to pull me closer, but our coats are blocking us. A frustrated whimper rings in the air and I realize…

It came from me.

He whispers my name against my lips, and I sigh, the sound full of so much longing, I’m almost embarrassed. But it doesn’t deter him. He slips his fingers just under the hem of my sweater, his hand on my bare skin making me flush hot everywhere. I drop my hands to his broad shoulders, testing his strength, and he groans. The sound gives me the courage to keep touching him and I run my hand down the front of his chest. Rest it right where his heart thunders beneath my palm, and I have a realization.

I affect him just as much as he affects me.

The car picks up speed, racing down the city streets, and I wonder briefly where we’re at. Where Peter is taking us.

I break away from Crew’s still-seeking lips, trying to catch my breath, and he kisses my neck, his mouth hot and damp against my sensitive skin. I think of my dad. The car he hired to drive me to the gallery this morning. How I never called that driver to pick me up and take me home. I’m sure he reported back to my father.

They’re probably worried about me.

“What time is it?” I ask, panting softly between each word.

Crew lifts away from my neck, studying me. His face is flushed, his mouth damp and swollen, and I lean in, pressing my mouth to his once. Twice. “Check your phone,” I whisper.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls his phone out, glancing at the screen before he returns his attention to me. “Almost three.”

A wave of panic washes over me, making all of those delicious, needy feelings disappear, just like that.

“Oh no.” I glance around the car, stopping to stare out the window, but I don’t recognize where we’re at. “I should get home.”

“Birdy, wait—”

“I need to go,” I interrupt. “My dad will be there soon. Or he might already be home. I don’t know. Peter?”

“Yes?” the driver asks, his gaze finding mine in the rearview mirror.

I can’t even be embarrassed that he witnessed us kissing in the back seat. I’m sure I look a mess. I feel like one. All rumpled and hot and flustered. “Can you take me directly to my apartment?”

“Of course. What’s the address?”

I rattle it off to him before I turn my attention to Crew, who looks more than a bit agitated.

And even a little angry.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, a sharp pain stabbing me in the chest. “I hate to rush, but I have to get home. I’m sure my parents are worried.”

Are they though? Maybe not, but my father fully expects me to be home, waiting upon his arrival. I’ve never defied them in my life, and I feel like I’m already in trouble.

Even though I haven’t really done anything wrong.

Crew’s expression softens, and he touches my hair. Cups the side of my head. “I don’t want them to worry about you. Send them a text.”

I shake my head. That’ll just open me up to a litany of questions I don’t want to answer. Not right now, while Crew can bear witness to the interrogation going down. “How far are we from my place, Peter?”

“Twenty minutes if traffic is light,” the driver answers.

“Thank you.” I settle back against the seat, staring out the window, my mind awhirl with all of the terrible possibilities. I can feel Crew watching me and I hate that I’m in the midst of a panic attack in front of him.

He takes my hand, linking our fingers together. “Don’t stress, Birdy.”

“I’m not stressed,” I automatically say, keeping my gaze on the window.

I’m afraid if I look at him, I might burst into tears.

He shifts closer, his mouth once again at my ear. “Liar. I know you better than you think.”

I swallow hard, not saying anything in response.

That’s what I’m afraid of.