He pats the spot next to him, and even though I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea, I sit down.
He sweeps an arm around my waist, and nuzzle up against my back.
“Thank you for having me over all the time, crashing your personal time with Dad.” He says the words against my bare skin, his lips moving sensually against that little bare stripe of flesh between the top of my sweatpants and the bottom of my tank top.
“Is there a reason you like coming over here?” I ask, wondering if he’s like Tristan, escaping an abusive parent or something.
Windsor sits up, propping himself on an elbow, and looking at me from irises flecked with gold, green, silver, brown, and amber. It’s like all the colors in the world are contained in those eyes.
“I just like spending time with you,” he tells me, and my heart thumps so violently it feels like I might have hiccups. “And I like your dad. Mine’s dead. I miss him sometimes.” Wind pauses and then sits up, pulling me into the circle of his arms until we’re cuddled together in a way that Charlie might not appreciate if he were to show.
Still … it feels so good, I tell myself just another minute or two can’t hurt. When Dad gets on the phone with Mack, they can talk for hours sometimes.
“You brought your suitcase with you,” I say, and feel Windsor smiling against my neck.
“I’m going to stay at that awful B&B again, the haunted one with the bad customer service.”
“They don’t have bad customer service, they just don’t kiss,” I say, feeling an irritational need to defend the Bayside Bed and Breakfast against this spoiled little rich kid. “But the ghost thing, that’s true. In 1902, a woman—” Windsor turns my head just enough that he can lean forward and kiss me over my shoulder, dropping both of his hands to my breasts and squeezing them just hard enough to make me moan.
He moves back suddenly, releasing me and exhaling sharply, like even he wasn’t quite aware of what he was doing.
“Bloody fucking hell, Zack’s right. You start talking historical facts, and it’s just … it must be the passion in your voice.” For once in his life, Windsor sounds a bit startled.
“Wind,” I start, because my heart is aching. I turn around to look at him, and I see it. It’s been there this whole time, from moment one. He’s been my friend since he set foot on the academy campus, but he’s also had a crush on me. A real one. “Are you even allowed to date to peasant girls?”
He raises a red brow and then reaches out to stroke some of my hair back.
“I told you: I’m probably the least obligated boy you’re dating right now. Milady, consider it: marry me.”
“Stop joking around,” I say, slapping him in the chest and sighing. “Even if I were interested in marrying someone, someday, I’m going to college first. Bornstead, if I can.”
“I’ll have my mother write you a recommendation letter,” Windsor says absently, but even though I get really excited at the prospect, I’m not sure I can accept that. No, I want to accomplish this on my own merit. Wind pauses and seems to notice the expression on my face. “Or at the very least, let me help pay for your schooling. Your mind is beyond brilliant, love.” He reaches out and touches a finger to the center of my forehead. “You’ll do great things one day.”
I smile, and then hear the sound of the glass lid on the pot clinking, pushing up from the bed to go and check on it.
After the stew’s done, Windsor and I sit outside with Charlie, and I very casually suggest that the prince stay the rest of the week with us, so we can all go fishing together, and maybe try another round of bowling. Wind says he likes a challenge, right? My dad is boss when it comes to bowling.
Oddly enough, Charlie agrees (although the open door rule still applies), and Wind blends so seamlessly into our little family, that I almost forget I have four other boyfriends waiting for me back at Burberry Prep.
Almost.Creed and I are sitting in the gazebo in the rear courtyard. He’s studying like crazy, and I’m looking at my revenge list and crossing names off. I’m here in case he needs me, but he’s been trying so much harder lately that I don’t think he’s going to have a problem pulling all As and Bs in his classes.
I am going to whoop your ass, Tristan Vanderbilt, I think as I stare at the names on the notebook paper I stole back from him.Revenge On The Bluebloods of Burberry Prep
A list by Marnye ReedThe Harpies The Girls: Harper du Pont, Becky Platter, and Ileana Taittinger
