Revenge Love

by Kata Čuić

  “Doing what?”

  “Making me fall in love with you.”

  His expression turns curious as he stares at me. Then, that familiar smirk tips his mouth up. “I’m not trying to, but I’m not sorry, either.”

  “I know. That’s what makes it so much worse.” And so much better.

  Truth: If you want to fly, you have to give up the things that weigh you down.

  We didn’t plan well enough. Not at all. The Phi Kappa house is overrun with spectators. They’re practically hanging from the poles that support the structure of the three-story building. Rosie insists that there is no way this many people correctly guessed the lie in the text sent before the holiday break. Which can only mean one thing: Kieran’s guard dogs have well…let down their guard.

  Jason paces the confines of his pre-fight holding cell, looking every bit the part of caged, unpredictable animal. He repeatedly scrubs his hands over his face as if the violent motion could scrape off the less savory parts of his skin. It’s the most I’ve ever seen him react to his own appearance.

  Rosie senses it, too. She follows his movements with a watchful gaze. “Are you actually worried about your opponent tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Did Kieran order you to lose again?”

  “No.”

  “Are you concerned about the size of the crowd? Do you have a sense things are going to get out of control?”

  A look of pure fury reddens the rest of his face as he glares at Rosie. “For the hundredth time, no! Stop interrogating me!”

  Her gaze pinballs between Jason as he resumes his pacing and me, huddled in the corner, trying not to do or say anything to piss him off more than he already is. “Are either of you going to confess to me what happened between you over the weekend? It’s obvious something’s different. If you’ve changed your mind about our plan, then I need to know, so I can manage the fallout and come up with something else.”

  “Will you shut up, so I can think?” he shouts.

  My voice sounds raspy, probably because this is the first time I’ve used it in days. I have no choice. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife and none of us can afford for this situation to escalate further. “Ro, maybe now isn’t a good time for twenty questions. Let Jason mentally prepare himself for the fight however he needs to. I’m sure you two will share a few drinks after it’s over, then have a completely honest recap of your weekends.”

  She raises her eyebrow at me, either annoyed with my bitter tone or silently beckoning for more of an explanation.

  I shrug. What am I supposed to say?

  I admitted I’m falling in love with him. He said he wasn’t sorry, then he changed his mind.

  I can imagine her response. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I don’t know what it means. All I know is that after spending a wonderful Thanksgiving getting to see the man he truly is, he spent the rest of the weekend ignoring me. My calls and texts went unanswered. We drove back to campus in silence. He dropped me off in the parking lot of our apartment building without a word or glance back like he couldn’t escape my presence quickly enough. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a week, and he can’t even look at me.

  She startles me from my mental wallowing when she pushes a strand of my limp hair behind my ear, so she can whisper in it. “I’ve never seen him like this before. Something obviously happened, and if I have to get you both drunk to get it out of you, then I will. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since Sunday evening, either.”

  Knowing they’re not laughing about my profession of love behind my back doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.

  Jason practically pounces on Kieran when he enters the room almost like his prayers for a distraction were answered. “Find me another opponent. Fuck it. Find me at least two more guys.”

  Kieran glances around the room, his expression full of suspicion. He’s picking up on the tension between the three of us. “Why?”

  “Because they’re obviously thirsty after going a weekend without.” Jason rolls his shoulders, then takes a deep breath in an obvious attempt to compose himself. “You could make a lot more money by capitalizing on the excitement in the house tonight. Pick anyone you want. Make it seem like they won a random lottery drawing, then text the extra bets to the distribution list. I won’t lose.”

  Kieran studies Jason. His tone makes it clear he has doubts. “You want me to schedule you three separate fights in one night, and you’re certain you won’t lose a single one? Did you juice up earlier? If you’re doping to win, that’s something I need to know.” He barks out a harsh laugh. “Not that I’m against hedging our bets, but I still want to be informed in case you fly off into a psychotic rage and need to be restrained. Can’t allow you to trash our house and injure a group of Phi Kappa brothers again.”

  Jason doesn’t seem offended by the accusation. He stands his ground, meeting Kieran’s gaze evenly. “Which do you love more? Your brothers or money? I think we both know where your loyalties lie, and it’s not with other people.”

  Kieran tsks in mock disappointment. “I don’t give a fuck about the money. I certainly don’t need it. My only motivation is giving these assholes what they deserve—a dose of their own medicine. You didn’t answer my question. Are you on something? Is that why you’re thirstier than usual?”

  Rosie wedges herself between them, placing a staying hand on both their chests. “I can’t speak for you, King, but the rest of us aren’t on any drugs. Let’s just all take a minute to think about the implications of scheduling more than one fight a night, even if it is last minute. How could that help us or hurt us?”

  Kieran glances over his shoulder at where I’m still doing my best to seem completely invisible. “This is a turn of events I never expected. Isn’t Emma our resident planner?”

  I shake my head vehemently, willing him not to bring me any further into this. I’m doing a good enough job of digging my own grave without any additional help.

  “What do you think, sweetheart? If you give me the green light, I’ll do whatever you ask.” His smile is sickeningly sweet. He winks.

  Jason tears across the room, snarling and baring his teeth when he places himself in front of me. If he starts frothing at the mouth, even I’m going to question whether he’s on drugs. “No. You leave her out of this.”

  “Trouble in paradise? I’ll gladly take her off your hands if you’re done with her, Gould. The last thing you need is a distraction.”

  Jason shoves Kieran, causing him to nearly fall on his smug ass. “Don’t you get it? She’s not yours anymore. You had your chance, and you blew it. Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, and you sure as fuck better not touch her.”

  I look to Rosie for help in deescalating this pissing match, but she’s watching everything unfold with a decidedly satisfied expression. Which makes no sense. The goal is to make Kieran unravel, not Jason.

  And that’s not going as planned. Kieran smooths his shirt but appears otherwise calm in the face of his aggressor. “Then, that’s settled. I know my place. I won’t poach what’s yours. I’ll find you more opponents only if your little girlfriend approves. Wouldn’t want to piss her off, too, by putting you out of commission for a few days. I’d never be able to live with myself if she’s unable to get the pleasure she deserves on a regular basis.”

  I wrap my hands around Jason’s biceps as if I could possibly hold him back from another charge. His muscles dance and tremble beneath my fingertips. From behind him, I have enough cover to whisper without Kieran overhearing. “He’s trying to rile you up. Don’t let him. We don’t know what his motivation is for acting this way.”

  If I wasn’t standing so close to him that I can feel the heat from his body, I might miss his imperceptible nod. His shoulders drop, and his body relaxes beneath my touch.

  “I don’t have to ask my little girlfriend for permission to live my life. She doesn’t keep me on a tight leash. If I want to fight
twenty guys tonight, that’s my business, not hers. Now, go find two more opponents and open the betting.”

  I drop my hands as Jason’s words burn me with an undercurrent of more truth than anyone else in this room could possibly understand. Kieran levels Jason with an unreadable expression, then exits the room.

  Tears blur my vision as hurt swirls in my chest. I retreat further into my little corner until my back meets the literal wall. The tangible reminder I’m no closer to fitting in anywhere than when I first began to try forces the building sob from my throat.

  Jason whirls on me, caging me with his body and cupping my jaw in his rough hands. “I won’t lose, Dr. Sunshine. I won’t get hurt. You have to let me do this. Please let me do this.”

  A tiny spark of anger fights for life amid the torrent of my tears. “You said it yourself. You don’t need my permission. I’m nothing more than your fake girlfriend, anyway.”

  He flinches, but instead of retreating, he closes the distance between us. “I didn’t mean it.”

  I want to scream. How am I supposed to possibly know what he means? If actions speak louder than words, then I’m screwed either way.

  He drives the knife in deeper when his mouth covers my own. By the time he’s sucked all the breath from me, he whispers against my lips, “Kieran’s right. I need to be exhausted. Hell, I might need to be injured. Anything to keep me from fucking this up beyond repair and snuffing out your light.”

  “Your darkness isn’t going to overpower me, Villain. You can’t take what I won’t give you.” It’s a lie.

  Jason knows it. “You will, though. You’ll give it to me. You’ll patch up all my wounds, and I won’t be able to resist. If I’m really lucky, I’ll break my hand and the pain will be enough of a distraction.”

  “You want to get hurt? Are you out of your mind?”

  “It’s sure starting to feel like it.”

  The clock on the kitchen wall measures the passage of time with a tick, tick, tick as we continue to circle each other. How much longer can we dance in silence before the heat between us ignites in an explosion that will undoubtedly rock our worlds?

  I can’t take the stifling silence for another second. “Are you going to fight me?”

  He shakes his head slowly, never releasing me from his intense gaze. “No.”

  “Then, why does my living room resemble the ring? How long are you planning to stalk me the way you did with your opponents?”

  “I’m still trying to hold out,” he breathes. His eyes plead with me. He’s no longer able to help himself. Every barrier he’s erected between us has crumbled as quickly as the three men he beat into submission tonight. Other than some bruised knuckles, Jason walked away unscathed.

  But, not unharmed, thanks to Hayleigh. “I can’t fight this battle for you. I’m not your enemy. The war you’re waging is with yourself.”

  “Tell me I’m hideous,” he begs. “Admit the thought of kissing me with your eyes open repulses you. Hell, call me an insufferable asshole who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “You are an insufferable asshole,” I whisper. “Because you choose to be. That’s not who you really are. I see you.”

  “No,” he grinds out, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head manically. “You’re imagining what you want to see. Your fantasy isn’t my reality.”

  I release a shaky breath but remain otherwise silent. From the moment his last fight ended, and he grabbed my hand to drag me from the Phi Kappa house without a word to anyone else, he’s been battling a fantasy far stronger than anything my mind has imagined over the years. The one in which he’s not good enough, not strong enough, not important enough for whatever happens between us to be anything more than a meaningless one-night stand, laced with regret in the morning.

  I can’t tell him he doesn’t deserve me. It would be a lie. He’s not ready to hear it’s me who doesn’t deserve him. In the end, I’m no better than Hayleigh. I want what I want. And I’m capable of doing whatever I have to in order to get it.

  He opens his eyes, his body relaxing as he seems to resign himself to his fate. But, he makes one last valiant attempt to forestall the inevitable. “You’ll wake up to an empty bed in the morning. I won’t call. I won’t text. I’m not the kind of guy who will try to romance you or convince you to choose me.”

  “Yes, you are.” I take one step forward. “You’ve been romancing me for years.” Another step. “You make me coffee and bring me homemade Danishes in the morning.” Another step. “You build my furniture without expecting a blowjob in return.” Another step. “You refuse to give up the key to my apartment, just so you have an excuse to drop in and check on me even when you don’t have the courage to admit you care with a text or a phone call.” Another step. “You don’t have to convince me to choose you. I did that for myself a long time ago.”

  I stand at the halfway point between us. If he wants to bridge this gap, he’ll have to do the rest of the work.

  “I torture you by dragging you to the gym instead of letting you sleep in on Saturday mornings,” he counters. Yet he takes that first step. “I purposely say things that hurt you to push you away.” Another step. “I’m never going to be like Kieran.” Another step. “I lie to you every time I look at you.” Another step. “I’m lying to you even now.” Another step. “I’m never going to be anything more than a villain. If you’re looking for a white knight to ride in on a horse and save you, then you need to look elsewhere.”

  I gaze at him, only an arm’s length away. “I don’t need anyone to save me. I can save myself.”

  He takes the final step to close the distance between us. His arms hang at his sides, but he fists his hands, trembling with the effort to hold back. “Once you unlock this door, I won’t be able to restrain myself. I won’t be gentle; I won’t care about making it good for you. I’ll take what I want, then leave you in the darkness like nothing happened.”

  “And then I’ll find you. We’ll sit and stare at each other for a few hours in silence while you lose out on sleep. Just like old times.”

  “Or, I could stay. Kill two birds with one stone and shake things up a bit. For a few hours, anyway.”

  I fight the urge to smile. “So long as you promise not to make me fall in love with you.”

  “I’m obviously not very good at keeping my promises.”

  He hoists me up into his arms, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. This kiss is nothing like the ones we’ve exchanged before. It’s desperate and every bit as rough as he promised. With each invasion of his tongue, our teeth clack together. My lips feel swollen and bruised already, but I don’t pull back.

  His hands knead my ass as he grinds his erection against my center. Arousal pulses through me. With one hit of his unrestrained want, I’m an addict for life.

  I’ll never be able to go back to anything less than being completely consumed by another person. There’s no doubt about his intentions or desire as he makes long strides to my room, where we’ve shared the bed many times. Even when he sets me on my feet, it’s only for the purpose of stripping me so quickly the sound of seams stretching and tearing punctuate the silence like an omen of things to come.

  He pushes me onto my back on the mattress, pinning me with his stare as he removes his own clothes. It’s not that he’s taking in the sight of me, sprawled out naked for his viewing pleasure. Every move he makes is both eager and methodical. It’s almost as if he’s challenging me to change my mind when he removes a strip of condoms from his wallet and places them on the nightstand. He takes his time detaching a square, ripping it open, then rolling the sheath over his length.

  When I don’t respond in the way maybe he’s still hoping for, he crawls on top of me, latching onto my breast with his mouth so abruptly and violently, I can’t help but cry out. He grips my other breast so hard, there will undoubtedly be bruises left behind as evidence I didn’t imagine this. In spite of the bite of pain, I thread my fingers through his hair to ho
ld him against me. I’m as desperate to soak up his attention as he seems to be to give it. His mouth and hands roam over my flesh in a frenzy. I’m not sure if he’s afraid I’ll stop this before he gets his fill, or if he’s testing me to see if I’ll break under his intensity.

  I might.

  It’s never been like this before. I only suspected what I was missing. This is no mere sex act for the sole purpose of release. My skin sizzles with every lap of his tongue, my throat feels raw from panting and moaning, and my eyes roll in the back of my head from the overwhelming sensation of his complete ownership of my body. His appetite for me is the strongest aphrodisiac. The piercing ache between my thighs begs to be filled, but I’m already so close. In an effort to stave off my orgasm, I savor every groan that rumbles from his throat, the scratch of his calloused hands against my skin, the scent of our combined sweat and my arousal—a unique perfume I’d bottle if I could. I commit to memory the way his hard muscles press down on my softer body until I lose track of where he ends, and I begin.

  His teeth tear at my neck, my earlobe as he wedges himself between my legs, forcing them to fall open and make room for his much wider body. He slides his length along my seam, once, twice, three times. “Keep your eyes closed, baby,” he whispers. “I don’t want you to see. Imagine who you want. It won’t hurt me.”

  I couldn’t open them if I tried, but not for the reasons he believes. I loop my arms around his neck, straining to keep him near me as my release explodes from within. He pushes into me in one long, harsh thrust. My mouth falls open in a silent scream of both pain and pleasure while my orgasm renews itself, cresting heights I never knew existed.

  He doesn’t allow my body time to adjust to his intrusion, simply pounds a punishing rhythm into me. My brain sends up a chant of his name in time with his thrusts. I give myself up to his will, too numb from a constant source of pleasure to do anything but take whatever he gives me.

  Over my silent litany, I’m vaguely aware of his grunted words in my ear. “So good…so tight…can’t last…gonna come so hard…Emma,” he chokes out.