Brutal Blueblood

just being obstinate now. Clearly you want one.”
“I do, but like I said, I can get one myself. I was actually looking forward to getting one at Sera’s where it will be warm inside, and I could sit by the fire.”
“You can still enjoy it by the fire, but let me get it for you.”
“Screw you. I can pay for my own, you know?”
I could only barely pay for it, but he didn’t need to know that.
His brows lifted. “I wasn’t suggesting that you couldn’t. It’s just that you seem like you wanted one, and the right thing to do is—”
I shook my head. “Oh, of course, the right thing to do is offer to buy the charity case some hot chocolate.” I was losing it. I could hear myself losing it. But I couldn’t stop.
He sighed. “Why are you being like this? I thought we were having fun.”
“I’m being like this because I know you know I’m the scholarship kid. I’m not the kind of girl who goes shopping on a whim. I’m not the kind of girl who doesn’t plan out all her expenses. I’m not the kind of girl you’re used to. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. It doesn’t mean that I can’t get the things that I need for myself. Matter of fact—”
I didn’t get to finish. Not because I’d lost my train of thought, not because I’d had no idea what to say, not even because he’d tried to talk over me. I lost my train of thought because Owen Montgomery dragged me close and shut me up.
With his lips.
They were firm, but soft. Soft like satin as they glided over mine. When his tongue peeked out to lick over mine, everything fell away. He groaned low as my lips parted on instinct. My heart rumbled in my chest. One of his hands slid into my hair, fisting it gently and angling my head just so. Then he deepened the kiss.
It was no longer a firm surprise but a claiming plunder. As his tongue explored my mouth, I shuddered. The sheer impact of it sliding over mine, his lips against mine, was an infusion of heat like I’d never felt before. I was going to melt, right here in the middle of Manhattan with all these people bustling around us. I was going to melt.
He moaned again, his hand tightening once more on my hair, and then he released me. Not quite a shove, but more of a deliberate separation of our bodies. He blinked at me. I blinked at him. Neither one of us seemed to know what the hell to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said, in what was likely an automatic response.
For heaven’s sake, he was apologizing? Fucking apologizing?
“You’re apologizing for kissing me? Or for not letting me finish talking? Or because I’m so disgusting to you, you can’t believe that you kissed me? Which is it?”
He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “Forget it.”
“Wow, you are such a dick. Not just because you kissed me without asking my permission, or interrupted me when I was talking, but because you apologized with an ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ as if you weren’t in your right mind. Do you know how insulting that is?”
His usually sharp blue eyes were unfocused. His pupils were wide and dilated, and he just stared, not saying a word.
I stepped back as far as I could. “You know what? Don’t talk to me. Just leave me alone.”
He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t try to say anything. I knew I was being sensitive. I knew, even as I walked, that he’d been kind to offer me a hot chocolate. But I didn’t want him to want to do the right thing. I wanted him to share a hot chocolate with me because he was nice and not because he felt sorry for me. I certainly didn’t want him kissing me because he felt sorry for me.
If Owen were going to kiss me, I want him to do it because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t think of any other thing he’d rather do. But that was a pipe dream. And while Manhattan during Christmas seemed like a fairy-tale land, in reality, I wasn’t even remotely close to a world where Owen Montgomery would truly want me.

Chapter 6
Tanith
The van Doren mansion was one of those venerable testaments to Old New York City glamor—all aged brick and tall windows outside, plenty of marble floors and sweeping staircases inside. And tonight, all that glamor was dripping with the best Christmas cheer money could buy.
Garlands and lights and candles. Christmas trees in every corner, their branches glinting with hand-blown glass ornaments and winking with real candles. Servers circulating with champagne and spiked nog, and the strains of classical Christmas music filtering up the stairs, mixing with the sounds of society small talk and polite laughter.
Then there was me, hiding in a corner, clutching a champagne flute and tugging on the hem of the dress Sera had made me wear, wishing I could tug at the thong underneath too. She’d insisted that it was the kind of dress that needed discreet underwear, but I was usually a boy shorts kind of girl. It was weird, feeling like I was more naked than usual under my dress.
Anyway, the van Doren Christmas Eve party was like the yacht in Ibiza all over again, only this time with a string quartet rather than an obnoxious DJ. Better booze, at least, since in Sera’s world, anyone old enough not to need a nanny was served at a party. But tonight, I had more than my usual out-of-placeness making me hide.
Tonight, I was hiding from Owen.
I’d seen him downstairs, from safely across the van Doren ballroom (yes, a literal ballroom), wearing a suit so sharp it could cut glass. His hair had been swept over his forehead, caught with tiny snowflakes, like he’d just come