The Breaking Season: An Arranged Marriage Romance Read online

  “Now, show me.”

  I knew what he wanted. What he wanted me to do. Goddamn this man. He knew exactly what buttons to press.

  I pulled my heels up onto the edge of the bed and spread my legs open before him, baring myself to his gaze. Then with a deep inhale, I let my hand fall between my legs and moved it over my own slickness to the apex and down to my waiting pussy.

  Camden bent down and gingerly picked up my discarded thong. “If this is any indication, then you must be soaking wet for me. Are you?”

  My fingers stilled. “Yes,” I all but moaned.

  “Would you like me to find out?”

  “Yes.” I hardly recognized myself.

  Right now, I could focus on nothing but Camden Percy kneeling between my legs. Camden Percy. Kneeling. Fuck.

  He placed his hands on my knees, spreading my legs wider and wider. Until I was fully exposed before him. I tried to pull my hand back, but he grasped my wrist.

  “I like the idea of us getting you off together,” he mused. My body responded in kind, and he laughed gently. “So it seems, as do you.”

  I wanted to reply with something particularly venomous, but he took that moment to bring his tongue down onto my clit. And I was pretty sure I lost consciousness. His tongue laved over me, brushing against my fingers and my clit, tasting all of me at once.

  He released my wrist when he seemed certain I wouldn’t move it and slid that hand down my exposed inner thigh. I trembled under his machinations, knowing exactly where he was headed. And fuck, was I already so fucking turned on that the thought of him driving into me made my pussy clench again.

  His hand slipped upward, trailing gently over my ass and then between my legs to where I really wanted him. He hesitated—or really forced me to wait for him—just hovering over my opening, as if he expected me to beg for it. Which I would not do. There were lines even I wouldn’t cross. Katherine Van Pelt did not beg.

  Even if, right now, I really, really wanted to beg him.

  He flicked his tongue again, his eyes on me. But I pressed my lips together. There was no way.

  He pressed his finger down on my opening, running it along the inside of my lips, sliding down and almost touching me. Teasing me but not entering me. And god, I wanted more. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted to beg and plead. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

  Just when I felt my walls webbing with cracks, my orgasm, which had been just out of reach, hit me full tilt. My body bowed off the bed, and I cried in pleasure as the culmination of all of his teasing arrested me.

  One digit slipped in just barely as I came hard and then back out.

  “Next time,” he told me and stood.

  I lay back, my eyes finally opening and my chest rising and falling with my pants. He smiled like a Cheshire cat, clearly loving the effect he had on me.

  “Camden,” I purred.

  “Yes?”

  “Fuck me.”

  He smiled then, eyeing my body, primed for the taking. “I think… I’ll make you wait.”

  “What?” I gasped, coming up to my elbows.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you not satisfied with what I provided?”

  “I… I am,” I stammered out. “But don’t you want…”

  “Don’t presume to know what I want,” he commanded.

  I slumped back on the bed. My legs were still spread. I was still dripping wet. I was an offering on a platter. Everything he could want. He strained against his suit pants. He did want me.

  But he wanted the control more. It was clear in his dark eyes. He wanted to make me beg before he gave me what we both wanted. And I wouldn’t beg.

  And he knew that. He was patient. He could wait.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, striding out of the room. “You can imagine me fucking you while I get off.”

  I groaned at his words and wondered why the fuck I couldn’t swallow my pride. He’d made me come by barely touching me. I would find a way to get him inside of me without begging. He couldn’t hold out forever.

  14

  Katherine

  The next couple of days, I ignored the questioning looks from my friends and the desire that flared between Camden and me. I tried to ignore it all and enjoy myself. Not that it was easy, sleeping next to Camden and not fucking him. When all I wanted to do, now that he had denied me, was fuck him.

  I was glad when Lark suggested a spa day without the boys. It was harder to pretend that nothing was happening between us when Camden was around. We weren’t arguing and there was a new heat between us. One that everyone seemed to be stepping around.

  No Camden for a day would be for the better.

  Lark had gotten us all the full-day executive treatment—massages, facials, salt scrubs, body wraps, mani-pedis, plus use of the sauna and salt pools. With a famous Cortes chocolate martini in hand, I stepped into the salt pool for our first thirty-minute relaxation period.

  “This drink is out of this world,” Whitley said.

  “It’s like if a Frosty had a baby with an alcoholic Frozen Hot Chocolate,” English said, taking another sip of the delicious concoction.

  “What’s a Frosty?” I asked.

  All three girls turned and stared at me.

  “What?” I asked, wide-eyed.

  “God, you were sheltered as a child,” Whitley said with a laugh.

  “I started drinking wine at, like, eight,” I told her.

  “Fine. Maybe sheltered is the wrong word.”

  “Wendy’s just not proper enough for you?” English asked, stifling a smile. “Only Serendipity will do?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t eat fast food.”

  “Are you eating anything at all?” Whitley quipped. “Look at how fucking skinny you are.”

  Lark frowned. “You do look very trim.”

  “You look amazing,” English said. “What are you doing? Tell us your secret. I wouldn’t mind losing another five pounds.”

  “Shut up,” Lark said, swatting at her. “You do not need to lose weight. None of you do. You’re all perfect exactly as you are.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Whitley said with an eye roll. “If everyone thought they were perfect exactly how they were, I wouldn’t have a job.”

  We all laughed. It was a fair point, coming from a plastic surgeon.

  “So, apparently I don’t need to lose five pounds,” English said, rolling her eyes at Lark, “what are you doing?”

  Katherine shrugged. “I got a new personal trainer. He works with dancers from the New York City Ballet. He’s all about building lean and toned muscle and keeping dancers fit for their grueling jobs.”

  “And you need that… why?” Lark asked. Her eyes bored into me, asking so much more than the question conveyed.

  “Hey, don’t knock it,” English said. “It’s clearly working.”

  “Anyway, it’s not that I need it. But you know, my face and my body are part of my public persona. I’m a socialite by trade. It’s no different than a model trying to stay in shape. I’m not eighteen anymore, and I’m competing with those skinny twits.”

  “I’m glad you’re not eighteen anymore,” Lark said pointedly.

  I frowned and looked away from her.

  “God, aren’t we all glad not to be eighteen anymore?” Whitley said. “I was not doing this kind of shit at eighteen.”

  “No shit,” English said with a laugh. “I was blowing up-and-coming rockstars and working as a bartender in the Valley.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I said. “Lark and I were doing precisely this at eighteen.”

  “Depends on when. We didn’t leave Manhattan the summer after graduation,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Before I could respond, two women appeared at the edge of the pool.

  The first one said, “Whitley?”

  “That’s me,” Whit said, scampering back out of the pool.

  “I have Anna,” the second said.

  “I go by English,” she s
aid as she followed Whitley out.

  “Your therapists will be with you two shortly,” the first woman said and then smiled politely before leading our friends away.

  Lark whipped around on me as soon as they were gone. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said primly, finishing my martini and setting it aside. Normally, I wouldn’t drink something so sweet. The calories were killer, but it was vacation after all. I could burn it all off when I got home.

  “Is it happening again?” She sounded sad and resigned.

  “Is what happening again?” I really did not want to have this conversation.

  “I was there when you were hospitalized after graduation, Katherine,” Lark said mercilessly.

  My whole body shuddered. I didn’t want to think about that. I’d fought so long not to think about that summer. I wished that she’d let the whole thing drop.

  “I’m only asking because I care about you,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to become that person again. It was horrible. We were all so worried. I thought you were past it.”

  “I am past it,” I snarled more forcefully than I’d intended.

  “You’ve barely eaten a thing since we’ve been here.”

  “I just downed that entire martini.”

  “Liquid calories are not the same thing, and you know it,” Lark said.

  I turned away from her. Why did she have to bring this up? Couldn’t she see that I was better? I’d beaten the illness. I’d… I’d recovered.

  Yes, when I was eighteen years old, my entire world had fallen apart. My father was arrested for fraud. He went to prison. My inheritance was shot. My brother disappeared. My mother became a walking zombie.

  And me? Who cared about little old me?

  So, I slowly drifted away, too. Even as I drifted, I fought to stay the same. To still be the impenetrable Katherine Van Pelt. The most formidable bitch on the Upper East Side. And the only way to do that was to keep looking the part. To be skinnier, prettier, larger than life. My appearance was all that mattered. Because if I looked better than everyone else, then no one would notice that I was empty on the inside.

  And no one did notice. Not for a long time. Not until it was too late.

  Then I ended up in the hospital.

  Anorexia.

  That was the label they put on my file.

  It had taken me weeks to believe the word applied to me. Months of therapy before I acknowledged that was what I’d been doing. And still, years later, I didn’t even want to face it.

  That was the past. I wasn’t there again. I wasn’t.

  And I would never, ever be in that hospital again. Not ever. The very thought scared me more than anything else in my life.

  “I’m not… anorexic,” I whispered the pained word. Lark looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I’m not.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. She reached out and took my hand. “I know that times have been rough between Penn and Natalie getting married and the rift in our crew and then… Camden. But you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you to that illness again.”

  “You haven’t lost me,” I told her more gently. “I’m right here. We can even have another martini.”

  Lark nodded. But I could see that she wasn’t convinced. I didn’t know how to convince her either.

  We lapsed into silence, which was promptly broken by our masseuses arriving. I was whisked into a small room that smelled of valerian root and hops aromatherapy. The combination nearly put me to sleep as I was pampered into submission.

  The spa was a dream. Lark’s family had not spared a single expense on this resort. Even I was impressed, and I was a tough sell.

  By the time I was through with the spa services, I felt relaxed and positive. The conversation from earlier had completely fled my mind. And Lark, English, and Whitley seemed equally tranquil.

  Paulo appeared after our services were complete and ushered us to the nearby restaurant for lunch. He spoke speedy Spanish to the hostess, who took us to a prime table overlooking the water. Paulo had apparently ordered for us, and out came pernil, which was a slow-roasted pork shoulder marinated in sofrito and served around the holidays.

  I had been skeptical, but I shouldn’t have been. Every bite was absolutely delicious. I didn’t even have words to describe the spices and how succulent the meat was. We must have a place like this in the city, but I’d never had anything like it.

  Lark kept a close eye on me while we ate. I tried to ignore her and just enjoy the meal. I was eating. I didn’t want my entire vacation monitored. I gave her a pointed look back as I put another piece of pork in my mouth.

  She laughed softly and turned to English. “Hey, no boys!” she said with a laugh. “Girls’ day out, remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, putting the phone away. “I wasn’t messaging Court anyway. It was Winnie. The company is getting off its feet after the holidays.”

  “Gah, next week already?” Lark asked.

  English nodded. “Now that Margery is out of the picture, we’re free to start our own publicity firm.” She smiled brilliantly. “Signed the paperwork before we left. Just have to open my office in the city and start collecting clients.”

  English had left her old PR firm in LA to start over here after she and Court got together. Her old colleague Winnie had left the firm, too, and they’d decided to branch out on their own. One firm, two offices—New York City and LA.

  “Are any of your old clients coming with you?” I asked.

  “A few, but a lot of them are staying with Winnie. I’ll have a different client base here in New York.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Speaking of new ventures, I’m excited and nervous to start my new job with the mayor,” Lark admitted.

  She had recently been appointed as Mayor Kensington’s chief of staff. It was a huge honor, and she had gotten it all on her own merit. Not because she was Upper East Side. Not because she was close to the mayor’s son. I was so proud of her. Even if I thought her talents were wasted, I knew it made her happy.

  “You’re going to do great,” English told her.

  “I know that I’ve been working with Leslie a long time, but it’s still something new.”

  “If she gives you any shit, sic Penn on her,” I suggested.

  Lark laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “What about you, Whitley?” English asked.

  Whitley looked up at English, then to Lark, and then finally me. She quirked a smile. “I’m happy not to talk about work, thank you.”

  I chuckled. “Oh, Whit.”

  “Don’t use that tone with me,” Whitley said with a wink. “We’re here on vacation. I hardly get any time off, and I had to move clients around to even get here. The last thing I want to talk about is my latest face lift.”

  “Fair enough,” English said. “What about you, Katherine?”

  “What about me?” I asked in confusion.

  “Tell us about being a socialite,” Whitley encouraged. “What fancy parties and premieres and events do you have coming up? Isn’t Fashion Week soon?”

  “It is,” I admitted.

  Though I hadn’t been thinking about it much. Last year’s party had been such a disaster that I’d put it out of my mind. I’d acquired a designer for my dress, but I’d been more hands off about this than any other Fashion Week. To the point where… I didn’t even want to talk about it.

  “But you know, actually, I’m more excited about this charity that I’m going to start helping.”

  Lark’s eyes widened in surprise. “What charity?”

  “ChildrensOne,” I told her. “They work with the local children’s hospital to get volunteers to help when they can. They plan events for the kids—carnivals and game nights and dances. And when I spoke to the director, I offered to help fundraise for the cancer wing.”

  “Wow,” English muttered.

  “Wait… there are carnivals at the hospital?�
� Whitley asked. “That sounds badass.”

  Lark just smiled faintly. “Are you going to throw a gala for the charity?”

  Something clenched within me at the suggestion. I couldn’t help but think about what Camden had said. That I did charity work for me. So that my name could be on it. I didn’t want to do that for this.

  “That’s a great idea,” English said. “You could invite all your friends and get them to donate money.”

  “I’d go,” Whitley agreed.

  “Oh, yeah, I don’t know yet,” I told her, reaching for my water and taking a sip. “We’re still discussing it. I’ll meet with her and visit the hospital once we get back.”

  “You’re a great party planner,” Lark said. “I’m sure it would be a hit.”

  “We’ll see. There are other options, too,” I said. “But mostly, I’m going to meet the kids first.”

  I didn’t admit to them that I was nervous. I knew what it was like to be hospitalized for an illness that I couldn’t control. It wasn’t the same as what these children were going through. But I didn’t know how much of what I’d gone through would come back to haunt me once I got there. Maybe if I faced my fear, I could finally put the hospital behind me.

  “All right, I’m thinking, beach time,” Whitley said, standing as our plates were being cleared away.

  “I’m down,” English said.

  “Me too,” Lark agreed.

  I opened my mouth to agree. We’d done nothing but hang out at the pool and beach since we’d been here. I was itching to get back out there, but I’d left Camden that morning with a dozen calls he had to make and some report he needed to write up. I wondered how far along he was on that. If he was going to spend the entire day inside.

  “I think I’m going to check on Camden first,” I told them instead.

  Whitley winked. “ ‘Check on Camden.’ ” She made air quotes around the words.

  I laughed. “He’s still working while he’s here. I need to get him outside for a bit. We’ll meet you at the beach.”