THE HELL?
I gaped at him in both frustration and terror. “Dad, aren’t you—”
“Oh, and make sure your mom doesn’t see, or you will really be dead.”
And then he fucking started whistling as he walked into the house, most likely right after Valerian had.
I peered over at the bushes.
My dad stopped whistling and caught my glance. “Looking for something?”
My sanity?
And maybe a condom?
Ha-ha.
Where the hell did that come from?
“Nope.” I quickly went back to kissing Annie, hoping he’d disappear, and when he did, I shoved her off me, got out of the pool, and started walking back toward the pool house with a hard-on from hell and soggy clothes.
I could hear her footsteps behind me as I jerked open the pool house door. I could somehow smell her lilac perfume too, which was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Hey.” Serena was drinking straight from the bottle. She really should have been born a dude, pretty sure Junior would still be obsessed. “Your dad let you go.”
“He’s too smart.” Junior plopped onto the couch and flipped on the TV. “Also, we ordered pizza. Go clean up before you ruin your own floors.”
“Yeah.” I stomped up the stairs, and again she followed. And it pissed me off, the loyalty, the barely asking any questions, the lack of just anything unless I pushed her.
I wanted someone angry like me.
I wanted someone sad like me.
I wanted someone to yell.
And I wanted to pick a fight so bad my fists burned with it.
I stripped out of my wet shirt once I reached my bedroom and tossed it to the bathroom floor. Annie stared at me through the bathroom mirror, her eyes were so wide like she was trying to drink in every detail and lacking the ability to do it.
“What,” I barked, slamming my hands down on the tile. She jumped, and then she just stared.
I counted the beats, the seconds as her eyes locked onto mine. What was she thinking? Why was she staring? And why the hell was she still here?
“Go,” I said through clenched teeth.
A frown stretched across her pretty face, and then she pulled her top over her head, leaving her completely topless and me completely helpless not to stare. “I need some clothes for home.”
“Don’t get pissed when I say, I prefer you naked. Khaki skirts do nothing for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “They’re comfortable, and at least then guys don’t give me attention.”
This surprised me even though I didn’t want to have any sort of conversation with her. But the words seemed to tumble off my tongue uninvited. “You don’t want guys’ attention?”
“Maybe just yours.” That damn swallow again.
“Trust me, you don’t.” I grabbed a towel, then she grabbed a towel. Was she really going to just mirror everything I did?
Ignoring her, I gave her my back and turned on the shower, almost tempted to jump into the chilly water to cool off my anger.
To cool off the fact that for the first time in over two weeks, I felt like I was responding to a woman. Guilt hit me so hard I wanted to die.
This was wrong.
What the fuck was I doing?
How dare she.
A hand touched my back.
I flinched.
And then another hand touched my bare back sliding down to my wet jeans, her breasts slid against my skin.
“I don’t want this,” I whispered.
“At least lie to my face.” Her hands shook as she tried to tug my jeans down. “And sometimes need trumps want.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. “Leave before I lose my temper… again. I’m serious, Annie, you don’t belong here.” In this house, with my demons, by my side, in my shower naked.
I shuddered, kicked off the remaining clothes, and stepped into the shower pressing my forehead against the white tile, my thoughts a blur, my chest heaving even though I was standing still.
I felt her behind me even before she opened her mouth.
Shoving aside every rational thought, I turned around and picked her up, slamming my lips against hers in another kiss of warning, pain, and maybe a little bit of release.
She clung to my biceps, her lips parting, allowing me and my mean kisses relief that we hadn’t even known we needed.
She didn’t moan. She didn’t do anything except hold on to me and return my kiss with a wild one of her own. I tasted her, going back for more again and again as our bodies slid into one another.
With a groan, I picked her up and shoved the glass door open, only going as far as the sink.
Both of us were drenched as I dug my fingertips into her ass. Her hand wrapped around my length, pumping me once.
I almost yelled for her to stop.
It had been no one but Claire for so long.
What the fuck was I doing?
She gripped me so tight again, it was almost painful; my eyes rolled back as she scooted closer to the edge of the counter and tore her mouth away.
Panting, I gripped her by the shoulders and ground out, “This means nothing.”
“I know,” she whispered, uncertainty in her eyes. “Think of it as my thank you.”
“Thank you?” I frowned.
“For not killing me after everything when I know you still want to when I know you still think about punishing me—”
“I think about punishing you every second of every day, and this is not even close to being a penance for what you really deserve.” I glared and then thrust into her in one abrupt movement.
Her head fell forward, resting against my shoulder as her fingernails dug into my skin.
I wasn’t gentle.
I was rough.
My next thrust was so hard her body slid back across the tile, and her head hit the glass mirror.
“Not.” I thrust again. “Even.” She moaned. “Close.”
I gripped her chin with my hand and jerked her head toward my mouth, biting down on her lip and then rained kisses down that perfect neck.
Annie tried to wrap her arms around me tighter as I lifted her off the counter still inside her and walked us toward the bed.
I set her at the top near the headboard. “Hold on to this.”
Eyes wide, she grabbed the edge of the headboard near the pillow as I drove into her again and again.
My bed.
Our bed.
Claire’s.
Tears filled my eyes, tears I couldn’t wipe away as the memories surfaced to the point of being so painful I let out a scream. “Your fault! This is your fault!”
“I know.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Ash, I’m so sorry.”
I was so close, but I didn’t want to stop.
I didn’t want this to end.
Because she would go.
Because I would yell at her even though she had given me exactly what I needed.
Because something was wrong with me.
Broken.
“It’s okay,” Annie said softly, and then she hooked her heels behind me and sucked me in deep, held me prisoner. “You have to let go.”
“No.” I clenched my teeth.
“You must.” Tears slid down her cheeks.
We locked eyes.
And I let her go.
I tried.
But the minute I finished.
I pulled her back.
I couldn’t do it.
I would never be able to do it.
I pulled out of Annie and gave her my back. “Leave.”
“Ash—”
“Fucking leave!” I thundered, knocking over the lamp, breaking it on impact.
She swiped her cheeks and then reached for one of my T-shirts from the floor and a pair of sweats I’d worn the night before.
Without even asking, she dressed in my clothes.
Shot me one last look of pity. I would rather die than see that in her eyes.
If only she could read my mind.
My heart.
Because now it was sobbing in the corner like a little kid, just wishing she would fight hard enough to stay.
Broken. That’s what I was.
The sound of a door slamming downstairs made me flinch, and then I was back to taking my shower and washing the innocent girl with her khaki skirts and wide eyes down the drain while clinging to a dead woman who was never coming back like she was a lifeline.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whispered. “Soon, baby… soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The darkness calls not once but twice, it demands I answer regardless of my strife, I say the words let me go, the answer is always the same, a resounding no. —Valerian Petrov
Violet
My hands shook as I held them in my lap, picking at my pink fingernail polish. I didn’t have remover, but I needed it to be gone, the pink was one of Dad’s publicist’s idea. It made me look innocent.
And I’d kept it on.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
I hadn’t been that girl for a long time, no matter how many times I tried to fake it. And Breaker, he’d always seen through that facade, pushed me until I lashed out, and then rewarded me when I was myself again.
Breaker.
I hung my head as a tear slid down my cheek.
Valerian.
The same, but so very different. My brain told me I was in love with Breaker, not Valerian, but my stupid heart soared whenever he was in the room; it demanded I run into his arms, get on my hands and knees, and beg him to hold me and never let go.
But how do you get past that sort of betrayal?
How?
A soft knock sounded at my door. Mom was probably checking up on me. She’d been worried, everyone had been worried when they realized what Valerian and I had gone through.
What he had done.
“Come in.” My voice was soft, and I hated it because I wasn’t weak. I just had no energy left, and I knew that even if I promised Valerian one more night, it would be impossible for him to even make it inside the house, let alone my room.
I hated the disappointment that coursed through my veins. I hated him for making me like him.
Mom poked her head in. She didn’t look a day over twenty-five, with her sleek shoulder-length black hair and sculpted jaw. She could have been a supermodel, and even though I know Dad can be scary, she somehow tames him in a way that seems impossible. “You holding up?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
“Well…” She winked and then grabbed something or someone behind her and shoved him in my room. Valerian.
He shot me a cocky grin. “Your mom likes me.”
My eyes narrowed, even though my heart leaped in my chest. “All females like you—must be a curse.”
“A gift.” He turned around and gave my mom, MY MOM, a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for understanding, Luc.”
“Any time.” Her gaze swept over to me as the downstairs door slammed. “I’ll just go distract your father for the next few hours—in fact, it’s a great night to go out to dinner. I’ll just put away what I was making.”
I gaped after her as she closed the door to my room with a silent click.
I was in my childhood bedroom.
But I wasn’t a kid anymore.
I lifted my eyes to meet Valerian’s hard stare.
I was his.
I was a Petrov.
It was like my tattoo burned on my finger.
I was his queen.
And he was a boss.
So many things had happened in this room, our first kiss, followed by a very inappropriate make out session that lasted until five a.m. and resulted in Breaker—Valerian hiding under my bed until my dad left.
I was fifteen.
And he was horny.
“I fell in love with you here,” he whispered. “Remember the Cinderella tent you used to have set up in the middle of your room?”
I scowled. “You swore.”
His smirk was so damn sexy that I had to look away or lose my resolve. Already I could feel my heart warming. I hated that I wanted him.
He had ruined everything.
And sex wasn’t going to fix this.
“We lay in it for two hours. I asked if I could kiss you again and you said yes, but only if you could see my—”
“I was young!” I said defensively.
“So was I.” His voice deepened. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone so embarrassingly fast in my entire life, all because of innocent little Violet Abandonato’s tight squeeze and what was it, two pumps? Three?”
“Two and a half.” I chewed down on my lower lip. “It was over before it started.”
I squeezed my eyes shut at the double entendre.
He got up from my bed. I focused on the wood floor, on my leopard print rug, as he took a step toward me. His brown boots came into full focus along with jeans that molded to powerful thighs. Slowly, I walked my gaze up his body. He was wearing a white V-neck shirt; it was a deep enough V that I could see the swirl of the Campisi tattoo poking out from underneath.
“Why did you get the tattoo when you’re a Petrov?”
He sighed and then peeled his shirt over his head, giving me an eyeful of a muscled six-pack, tan skin, and bulging biceps that I wanted to hold on to, to squeeze.
Why did he have to be so damn pretty?
“Here.” He pointed to the bottom of the tattoo, and there, hidden in plain sight but camouflaged, was the mark of his true Family. “The Petrov Sickle. The only way to get this tattoo is to be born into the Family—or married into it.”
“Did you know they would bind you to me?” I finally asked, my curiosity getting the best of me despite my anger.
His face fell. “Vi, I already told you, I had no idea, but it—damn, it makes sense when I think back on how easily Andrei agreed, how he and Phoenix orchestrated everything. One thing I know for certain, Breaker and Violet would have never been able to be together.”
I wanted to scream. “You don’t know that!”
“Vi…” His eyes burned into me. “The adopted son of Tex Campisi, one who has no supposed bloodline, one who was set to guard you at political events? One who was ordered by your father never to touch you? I know you love him, but Chase isn’t… He’s strategic, and marrying me would have been the opposite of that. Somehow, he would have convinced you; somehow, I would have fought for you, and I know for a fact I would have ended up dead. Serena and Junior made sense and were willing to die for each other. We were more than a secret. You were this untouchable thing—he would have chased me down until I was out of the picture, of that, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know my dad like I do. If I would have gone to him, told him I loved you.”
He flinched at the past tense.
“He would have let me.”
Valerian’s face fell. “Ask him next time you see him.”
“I will.” I gritted my teeth. “I think you should leave.”
“You promised me one more night.” His easy grin was back. “And it looks like we still have ohhhhh, at least five hours until midnight.”
“Then you go.” My chin wobbled.
“Then I go…” he whispered. “Back to Seattle.”
“Alone,” I confirmed, hating how desperately I wanted to fling myself into his arms because he was alive, and he was talking to me, but he was different, and he’d told so many lies, and we were supposed to be something not like this. “Say it.”
He locked eyes with me. “Alone. I go back alone, but not forever, because one day…” He approached then. “One day you’ll realize what a colossal mistake it was watching me walk out of your life when all I ever wanted to do was be by your side. I lied to you. But I sacrificed everything so we could be together, so while you’re sitting there feeling sorry for yourself that Breaker’s dead, remember, I’m still him, and I’m st
anding right in front of you, alive, breathing, begging to taste my wife’s lips, begging to love her, begging to touch her skin and feel her heartbeat with my mouth.”
“You always were so good with words,” I grumbled and swiped a tear from under my eye. “Is that how you got so much action?”
His grin was lopsided as he shrugged. “I got action in order to forget about the only girl I wanted to bend over the table every time we had family dinner. I don’t think you realize how many fantasies I’ve had about just your mouth or pulling your hair just to see you gasp. And now I get you for one night, and you can’t say no. I get you for the first time without lies, masks, without wondering who you loved more, Valerian or Breaker. Tonight, I’m just me, and I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”
Breaker would never talk to me like that because he had known he’d get slapped.
But I liked it.
I liked it way too much.
And suddenly I was reminded of the time he’d spanked me, first the anger, then the embarrassment and then the need for more pain mixed with the pleasure he promised.
“You can try to hide behind that defiant lift of your chin and your perfection, but I know something else nobody does.” He started to circle me as I tensed under his perusal, and then he stopped behind me, grabbing the side of my neck with his hand and pulling me back against him, his fingers digging into my skin lightly as he whispered in my ear. “Violet Abandonato likes to get dirty. Tell me.”
I swayed back against him, my eyes unfocused as his hands moved to my soft blue cotton shirt and jerked it over my head, causing my hair to fan out around my naked shoulders.
I had no bra on.
He trailed one finger down my neck and then across my ribs toward my jeans. Both hands moved to my hips as he held me in front of him. I could feel his hard length throb against my ass, even through his jeans. He was ready. I moved my hips against him.
He bit out a curse as my mouth parted, needing to taste him but not wanting to beg him for it.
“It will always be you, Vi. Only you,” he whispered, and then he was almost violently pulling my jeans down to my ankles. I stepped out of them and stood still, clad in a pair of black silk underwear, topless, waiting for his next move.
But he did nothing.
He just held me against him again, this time, I could hear his heavy breathing, I could feel his restraint.
Scandalous Prince Page 22