A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime: A Lancaster Prep Novel

I’M PLASTERED against the cold glass, a warm Crew pressing against me, his hard—yes, he’s actually hard—body so close to mine, I don’t think you could slip a piece of paper between us. His words are on repeat in my brain.

Tell me when to stop then.

He makes it sound so simple, when it’s not. I’m finally starting to understand why girls give in so easily to this— to sex. It feels so good, his mouth. His hungry kisses. His tongue. How it tangles with mine. His hands on my body. His rapidly beating heart and accelerated breathing, and those low humming noises he makes when he kisses me. As if I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

It’s heady stuff. I can feel that newly familiar pulsing between my thighs. The wetness growing there. The dull ache forming, and every bit of it, he’s responsible for.

I think he’s the only one who can ease the ache.

He kisses me until I can’t think. Tugs my white shirt out of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the crisp, wrinkled cotton to rest against my bare waist before they streak across my stomach.

I can’t breathe. Can only clutch his shoulders helplessly, my tongue dancing against his while he slowly but surely undoes me with his fingers. They slide up, skimming the bottom of my bra, and I wish with everything I had that I owned something frilly and pretty. Something that would make his eyes bug out of his head when he first saw it.

But I don’t. The nude-colored bra I’m wearing is plain and simple. No ribbon.

No lace.

“You want me to stop, Birdy?” He pants the words into my skin, my neck. His lips are hot, and so is his tongue, and when he licks me at the spot where my pulse throbs, I shake my head.

No. I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

His hands land on my waist and he flips me around so my front is pressed into the window. His erection nudges against my butt, and I stare out at the falling snow, my lips parted, my mind racing with thoughts of seeing him naked. He feels huge.

I don’t know what I would do with it if I ever saw it for real.

He slides those expert hands down, until they’re playing with the hem of my skirt. And then they’re beneath it, his fingers on my backside, tracing the edge of my underwear. One, then the other. Back and forth, his fingers featherlight.

A gush of wetness floods my panties and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to the glass, needing the cold to ease the heat consuming me. “Crew…”

“I should stop?” He removes his hands from my panties, and I whimper. “Your skin is so soft, little bird. It’s hard for me to quit touching you.”

I’m conflicted. I know I should say no. This has already gone way too far. He’s got an erection. He’s touched my bra. His hands were literally just under my skirt. This is everything I promised my father I wouldn’t do until I was with the man I plan on marrying.

But then those hands slip back under my skirt, a single finger sliding beneath my panties, and a moan leaves me, muffled by the window.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He dives deeper, his finger sliding into my folds and I arch my hips backward, wanting more. Fighting past the shame that wants to wash over me, my need too great. “Jesus, Wren.”

He teases my entrance, barely pushing forward, and shudders wrack my body. I can’t even imagine what I must look like, my upper body smashed against the window, my butt thrust out, Crew’s finger slowly pushing inside me…

“Oh God,” I choke out.

Crew pauses in his search. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” I might die if he stops now.

He slips his finger farther inside me, and I clench up tight. A ragged groan leaves him. “Relax.”

I try to, but I’m nervous and scared and excited. I’ve never let a boy do this to me before and it feels foreign. Odd. Wonderful. Delicious.

Every single one of those things, all at once.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks.

I shake my head, bracing my hands on the glass once again, and I open my eyes to watch the snow fall as Crew fingers me. He slides his finger in, all the way to the hilt, before dragging it back out, and oh God, the friction. I need more.

A shuddery breath leaves me when he pushes back inside, and I can feel him use his other hand to flip my skirt up, exposing my backside to him.

“You’re fucking killing me, Birdy. So hot,” he murmurs, and I can feel his gaze burning a hole into my skin from the intensity of his stare.

I remain quiet, not sure how to respond. My body starts to move with his finger, my hips rocking, and when he removes his hand from me completely, I want to burst into tears from the loss.

“Turn around,” he says roughly, his hands spinning my hips, so I have no choice but to face him. His mouth is on mine, his kiss so hungry, so intense, all I can do is hang onto him and let him consume me.

His hand slips beneath my skirt. Brushes the front of my panties. I cry out against his lips when he presses his fingers against me, rubbing slowly.

“You want me to stop now?” he asks, and I can hear the triumph in his voice.

He knows he’s got me.

“N-n-no,” I stutter, throwing my head back when he slips his fingers beneath the front of my panties, cupping me fully.

“You like this?”

I nod, unable to speak when he presses his thumb roughly against my clit.

A ringing starts, startling us both, and I crack my eyes open to find Crew already studying me, his brows lowered in displeasure. His fingers are still in my panties, the only sound beyond the ringing phone, our panting breaths mingling.

“That’s not mine,” he tells me, and I realize he’s right.

It’s my phone ringing.

“Ignore it,” he says, leaning in for another kiss, but I press my hand against his chest, stopping him.

“I should see who it is,” I say softly. The ringing stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Or maybe not just yet.”

Crew’s smile is wicked as he leans in for another kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth at the same time the ringing starts all over again.

He pulls away from me, his hand still remaining in my panties. “Where is it?”

“In my jacket pocket.” I drop my hand into my pocket and pull the phone out to see the word Daddy flash across the screen. I sink my teeth into my lower lip, the guilt coming at me tenfold. “It’s my father.”

“Jesus.” He removes his hand from my panties and steps away from me. “Answer it.”

I feel empty without his hands on me and a soft exhale leaves me as I glance down at the screen, imagining how I’ll sound to my father if I do answer his call. Breathless. On edge. My mouth still tingles from Crew’s kisses and my clit throbs from his fingers. “I can’t.”

The ringing stops and I shove the phone back into my pocket. Crew reaches for me, but I dart away from him, suddenly unsure.

About everything.

All of it.

He’s frowning, watching me carefully. “Are you okay?”

“I should go.” I glance back the way we came, hating how dark it looks. Like a scary, fathomless cave to nowhere.

“Birdy, come on…” he starts, but I shake my head and he goes quiet.

“I can’t—I can’t do this.” I’m too conflicted. Having Daddy call right in the middle of the most passionate encounter I’ve ever had totally ruined the mood. Made me doubt myself—and Crew. “I’m not ready.”

“Wren.” He runs a hand through his hair, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t leave. Not yet.”

“I have to. I just—maybe this was a bad idea. I’m not the girl you think I am, Crew. I’m too nervous, too scared. I’ve never done this type of thing.”

“I promised I’d take it as slow as you want me to.”

“And you’ve been perfect.” I offer him a tremulous smile, but I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment, so I look away from him, unable to stand looking at his handsome face any longer. “I need to go.”

I flee the room, my shoes slapping hard against the cement floor as I run into the darkness. I spot the door and I open it, relief flooding me as I find myself in the main library once again. I make my way through the stacks until our table comes into view, and I hurriedly slip on my coat. Grab my backpack.

And hightail it out of the library, the door slamming behind me so loudly I swear I heard Miss Taylor make a shushing noise.

Only when I’m back in my dorm building, do I send my father a quick text.

Me: Sorry was in the library studying for a project. Will call you after I take a shower? It’s snowing here and I got wet on the walk back to my dorm.

Daddy: Not a problem, Pumpkin. Call me when you can. Just checking on you.

Seeing his sweet words, the nickname that he’s called me since I can remember, I promptly burst into tears.

“I have news,” Daddy announces after we’ve talked for a few minutes, going over the usual how are yous and the how’s school questions. I’m sitting on my bed after having taken a shower and changing into warm clothes, just like I told him I would.

“What is it?” I ask warily, bracing myself.

“Your mother and I…we’re going to try and work on our marriage.”

I go quiet, absorbing his words for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“We’re starting couples therapy this week. We want this to work. For you. For each other,” he says. “We can’t just give up now, not after twenty-five years.”

“Don’t do this for me,” I tell him, meaning every word I say. “This isn’t about me. This is about you and Mother.”

“I know, but you’re a part of this family too. Even though you’re getting older and about to go out on your own,” he says.

Why does that part sound like a lie? Oh, I know why.

“A few days ago, you were trying to pair me up with Larsen Van Weller,” I remind him. “In the hopes he’d eventually be my future husband.”

It still sounds so completely ridiculous. Even if Crew hadn’t warned me about Larsen and said all of those horrible things about him, I still would’ve been put off. Resistant. The moment I arrived at the Von Weller house and barely talked to Larsen, he knew his chances were shot. He pretty much left me alone.

Thank goodness.

“I cannot make that choice for you. Your mother and I discussed it. We were panicking at the thought of you being on your own, and what might happen to you.”

Anger slowly spreads through my veins at his words, and the meaning behind them. He still doesn’t trust I know how to take care of myself, believing I’ll do nothing but make the wrong choices, over and over again.

Though he might be right to worry. Look at how easily I gave in to Crew earlier at the library. God, he actually had his fingers inside me, and I let him do it. I enjoyed it.

Shame washes over my body like a hot flood of lava, setting me on fire, and not in a good way.

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him, dragging in a shaky breath. “I’m almost eighteen. And I want to go to college.”

I’m not one hundred percent sold on that plan yet, but it sounds good, and that’s all that matters.

“I think you would thrive in college,” he says, his voice overly enthusiastic. “You can live in the dorms, and make new friends.”

He wants me safely tucked away in a dorm, just like I am here at Lancaster. Then he won’t have to worry about me, and he can go about his business, safe in the knowledge that I’m away at college.

“That’s my plan,” I chirp, my voice reminding me of how I spoke to Fig earlier. All false charm with a hint of sarcasm. Funny how both men don’t even notice. “I should go, Daddy. I need to work on my project.”

“For what class?”

“Psychology. My partner is Crew Lancaster.” I close my eyes at my mistake. Why did I mention him again? For the thrill of saying his name? Knowing what we shared earlier? Despite my shame over what he did to me, I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s forefront in my mind—what we did together is too. And while I know I shouldn’t allow myself to be found alone with him again, I know deep in my heart, I will most likely let it happen.

Maybe I can’t be trusted. Maybe I’m too gullible, too easily swayed to be left to my own devices.

“Why does his name keep coming up lately?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he’s my friend?”

Daddy is quiet for a moment, and I’m about to say something when he beats me to it.

“I very much doubt Crew Lancaster is your friend, Pumpkin. He’s a hot-blooded boy just like the rest of them, chasing after a sweet, innocent girl.”

I remember the sensation of Crew’s hot mouth on my neck, the way he licked my ear, and for the first time in a while, I have to agree with my father. “It’s just a project, Daddy.”

“I know, Pumpkin. Just remember, you’re too young to get serious about boys right now. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I know.” I have heard those same words repeated back to me so many times over the years, I can say them right along with him.

“They only have one thing on their mind anyway,” he continues.

Hmm. Maybe I do too.

“I don’t like the Lancaster family. You can’t trust them.” His tone turns bitter.

“What have they ever done to you?” I’m genuinely curious, though knowing him, he won’t really tell me.

“We’re in the same business. His older brothers have a real estate firm and they’re shady.” He clears his throat. “None of that should concern you. Just—stay away from Crew Lancaster.”

“I have to work on my project with him,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“You know what I mean.” Daddy sighs, sounding exhausted. “I’ve got to go. Have a good night. Sweet dreams. I love you.”

“Love you too.” I end the call before he does, tossing my phone aside before I flop backward on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Frustration ripples through me, reminding me that I’m not making the best choices, but are they really that bad?

So what if I snuck into a room with Crew and kissed him. Let him touch me. Let him slip his hand inside my panties…

God, how am I going to face him tomorrow in class? After what we’ve done? It’s going to be weird, looking into his eyes and knowing what he did to me. How much I enjoyed it.

Did he think I looked dumb, clinging to the window and practically begging him to keep touching me? Does he think I’m a pathetic little creature who’s suddenly addicted to his touch, his mouth?

Because that’s how I feel. Addicted. Overwhelmed. Needy.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’ve got this. I can face him tomorrow and act like nothing ever happened between us.

I can.