Viktor

by Clarissa Wild

  “It wouldn’t hurt so much if you’d just keep still and stopped growling at me like a grizzly bear.”

  “It’s your fault I’m hurt,” he says.

  I put my hands on my side. “No, you got hurt because you made me run away.”

  “I wouldn’t have chased you away if you weren’t constantly trying to put your tits in my face.” I catch him stealing another glimpse of my tits right then.

  “And I shouldn’t have to put my tits in your face to make you want to free me after imprisoning me in your home!”

  “For trespassing!”

  I lean in. “For rescuing my sister, which she obviously needed, looking at the way you’re acting now!”

  He grunts and slams his lips shut again, rubbing them furiously. I can almost hear the grind.

  “Fine. It’s my fault. Happy now?” He turns his head and crosses his arms, all while lying down. He reminds me of myself … We’re both big kids. Quite funny, actually.

  I smile to myself.

  “What you smiling at, Lexi?”

  My jaw drops. “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me.” He playfully raises a brow at me.

  I throw the cloth in his face and turn around too. “Clean yourself then, Grizzly Bear.”

  A rumbling laugh emanates from deep in his chest, which makes him cringe in pain too. “Grizzly bear? That’s a new one.”

  He sits up, and my eyes can’t help but hover to his muscular abs. God, he’s so fucking sexy… even when he’s bleeding and mad at me. He picks up the cloth, wiping it casually over his abs to place it on the table next to him; wet droplets create rivulets on his body that almost sizzle from his hotness.

  I lick my lips and suck in a breath to compose myself, but his eyes have already caught me staring.

  He muffles a laugh, and a flush appears on my cheek. But then he cringes and groans.

  “Be careful.” For some reason, I immediately move closer, feeling the need to help him. “You’ll pull the stitches.”

  “You’re suddenly very caring,” he murmurs.

  My brows draw together. “Me? Caring?”

  “Yeah.” I thought he was joking, but it sounds like he’s serious.

  I don’t know what to say.

  The only thing I know is that my hand hovers near his face in an attempt to touch him, but he still leans back a little. I drop my hands in my lap and look at him with concern.

  Bringing his hand to his mask, he says, “You’ve seen my face …”

  “Yes …”

  His eyes briefly flash at mine.

  “Does that mean you’re gonna kill me now?” I muse.

  I hear him grin. “No.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Do you have to be so catty all the time?”

  “As long as you keep yelling all the time … yup.” I shrug.

  He shakes his head, but then his fingers wrap around the broken mask, and he pulls it off his face. He drops his chin to his chest, hiding his face from me.

  “I guess there’s no use for this thing then.” He looks at the broken mask in his hand and then tears it further apart, splitting it in half. “Now you know what I look like.”

  He looks like he’s having a rough time.

  Biting my lip, I lean in and try to look at him, but he averts his eyes and turns his face away from me.

  “Let me look at you,” I say.

  “No. You’ve already seen enough ugliness in your life.”

  “Ugly? You’re not …”

  His head lifts and with a terrible, heartbreaking gaze, he looks me in the eye. “Tell me what I look like then.”

  Shattered.

  Broken.

  Like the mask … only worse.

  In the light of day, and without anything between us, I can finally see the man in front of me for who he is.

  Hurt. On the inside and outside.

  His burns run all the way from his eye down to his neck and across the left side of his body, covering him in scars. I don’t know the pain he had to endure, but I can still see it in his eyes. He’s drowning in it. But what he doesn’t realize is that his outside isn’t what I see.

  What I see is the man on the inside … the man who’s trying to hide from the world.

  Who thinks he’s too ugly to be seen.

  I can’t blame him for thinking that way.

  I’ve thought the same way about myself for years.

  Who’d ever want a homeless girl? A girl who sells her body on the streets?

  No one.

  Except maybe someone like him.

  Someone just as broken as I am.

  It’s not pity or guilt that drives me to smile.

  It’s because I see the beauty in our fucked-up world … It’s right here, where we’re sitting.

  “You’re just a man.”

  “A man,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes.

  “I don’t see anything different about you than any other man …”

  He cocks his head as if he doesn’t believe me.

  “Except maybe the fact that this man”—I tap his chest with one finger—“saved my ass.”

  A smile appears on his face, and it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve seen in a very long time. A genuine one. Not one of a man who enjoyed me fucking him … It’s a smile of a man who feels proud.

  “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate that, but it doesn’t make these scars disappear.”

  I sigh. Then I lift my hand and bring it to the left side of his face. He flinches at first, but as my hand rests on his face, he calms under my touch.

  “Why aren’t you scared?” he asks.

  I lick my lips as I softly brush my thumb across his skin. “I’ve seen worse things in my life. Men. They can be much scarier than any scar.”

  His laugh comes from deep in his throat, but it dampens as he looks at me intently, his blue eyes so fucking beautiful I could drown in them.

  I could almost …

  “Thank you,” I murmur, “for saving me.”

  He leans into my hand, closer, his eyes boring into mine. My body draws toward him like a magnet as he leans in to grab my face. His fingers are coarse as they gently caress my cheek.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, his low voice sounding more attractive as the seconds pass. “I don’t understand, though … Why did you come back here?”

  “I couldn’t leave you there after what you did,” I say.

  “You could’ve escaped, but instead, you helped me. I don’t deserve you,” he says, shaking his head but still inching closer.

  “Oh, just shut up already,” I say, lowering my hand to his chest.

  But then he grabs my face with both hands and kisses me on the lips.

  I freeze but melt into a puddle almost right after. His mouth is … heaven.

  He kisses me like he owns me, taking my breath away.

  He kisses me like it’s his last kiss on Earth.

  And I let him … because I like it.

  I actually fucking like it.

  The man behind the monster is kissing me … and he’s so fucking good at this that it almost pisses me off. Why? Because he has me. He fucking has me.

  Not just against my will.

  He has me because I want more.

  But then someone clears their throat and Viktor tears his lips away from mine, turning his head.

  Only when I open my eyes do I realize he didn’t make the sound, it was Winston.

  And he caught us kissing.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 11

  Viktor

  Gramps interrupts my kiss, and I don’t like it one bit.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know I was bothering anyone … I wasn’t expecting this,” Winston says as he holds up a tray with hot tea. “I just thought I’d bring some tea and then I find you here … kissing.”

  I look at Alexis, and she looks at me, and I can almost hear us both think ‘we weren’t.’

  But then a
dirty smile appears on Winston’s face. “Oh, no, no, it’s fine. Go on, go on.” He puts the tray on a table near the door and turns around. “You lovebirds continue with whatever you were doing.” As he leaves the room, I swear I can hear him chuckle.

  Well, fuck.

  I run my fingers through my hair from frustration. Damn, that kiss was good.

  I don’t know if it’s her or the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time … Nah, I’m sure it was definitely her.

  She leans back in her seat, and I guess the moment to kiss her again is gone.

  I wonder what she thinks of me now that she’s seen me … Now that she knows I want her.

  But wanting someone and deserving someone are two entirely different things, and I haven’t earned the right. I take a deep breath and sit up again.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks as I move my legs to the floor.

  My bones don’t feel broken. I wriggle my toes and put some pressure on my leg. It hurts, but it’s manageable.

  “Winston took all the bullets out, so I don’t think there was any permanent damage, but you gotta take it slow.”

  “I don’t do slow.” I get up, but my body is unstable. She picks up on it and immediately jumps up to grab my arm, holding me steady.

  “I’ve gotcha,” she says, her hands firmly planted on my hips.

  “You sure do …”

  Fuck. It feels so fucking good, I could grab her, drop her on the couch, and fuck her pussy raw right now, but that wouldn’t be very nice. She’s right. I am a fucking animal. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt a woman’s touch in so long; she’s driving me mad with desire.

  “Guess we’re even now,” she muses, biting her lip to hide a smile.

  I can’t stop focusing on her lips. How she licks them and lets out a little giggly laugh.

  “You wish,” I say. “I took bullets for you, Lexi.”

  My serious voice seems to have taken her aback a bit, so I add a smile. I usually forget to smile. I should do it more often. It seems to make her go easier on me.

  “It’s Alexis,” she says. “Remember it.”

  I grin from the way she talks back to me. So fucking feisty. I love it. “Oh, I already have …”

  I sneak a glance at her, and surprise, surprise, she’s actually blushing.

  “Let’s go,” she says, ignoring what I say.

  “Where?”

  “Shower. Unless you’re saying you’ve lost the ability to walk,” she says, helping me walk.

  “Not gonna let two bullets stop me.”

  “That’s the spirit,” she says, hauling me through the hallway.

  Winston peeks around the corner as he folds the laundry. “Need help?”

  “Nah, we’re good. I’ll call you if we need any,” Alexis says as we flounder up the stairs.

  It takes us a while to get there, but I don’t mind. Not when she’s touching me.

  At first, it felt strange. Like I should lean away and not let her touch me. I always thought when strangers saw me, they’d scoot back and gasp … but not her. She hasn’t looked at me that way, ever. And that says something.

  I wonder if it’s because she pities me. If she’s only doing this because she feels she needs to… because I saved her.

  But I couldn’t not have saved her. When I saw that cop lying on top of her, all I could think of was kill. Kill. Kill. I wanted to rip his head off for making her feel that way. For hurting her. I would never touch her like that.

  Even though all I can think about right now is touching her.

  Fuck … I’m so confused right now. I shouldn’t want her, but I’ve never wanted a woman as badly as I want her. The moment she defied me by looking at me after her dance, I knew she was mine. She doesn’t fear me as the others do. And yes … I tried to frighten her. I only do it so they don’t see me for who I really am.

  I don’t want them to see the ugliness, so I let them see the beast instead.

  But my anger took over when I discovered who she was, and I chased her away.

  If I hadn’t gone after her … she would’ve ended up in his hands.

  I ball my fist just from the thought. I can’t let that happen. Ever. I don’t fucking care what I have to do to keep her; I won’t let her run into his arms. I’ve sacrificed too much already.

  So every time she looks at me with those luscious eyes, I don’t tell her that she can leave. I don’t tell her to go because I don’t want her to.

  If that makes me a selfish motherfucker, so be it.

  She sets me down against the wall and points at the sink. “Lean against it and I’ll go grab a stool.” When she leaves, it feels like my body cripples and my skin dissolves. It’s so empty. So…void of any emotion, any thought. Just like before she came into my life.

  I liked the silence. It gave me peace.

  But the funny thing is now I’m not sure I miss the silence.

  As she comes back, the warmth floods back into the bathroom and so does my smile. She returns my smile as she passes me and places the stool in the shower, and then turns it on.

  An uncomfortable moment passes between us before she walks toward the door. “Do ya thing,” she says, waving.

  But I grab her hand.

  “Don’t,” I mumble under a heavy breath. “Don’t leave. Please.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she sucks on her bottom lip. “Please?”

  I let out a sigh. “I know I haven’t done anything good, but …”

  She places a finger on my lip, silencing me instantly. Her eyes grow fiery as she grabs both my hands and guides me to the shower. Every stumble is a little less painful when she touches me. She guides my hand to the shower door, making me hold onto it as she wraps her fingers around her shirt. I watch as she takes her clothes off piece by piece, throwing them on the floor behind me. And for some reason, this is so much fucking sexier than the striptease she did for me just a few hours ago.

  When her bra comes off, I marvel at the sight of her tits, so round and perfect. But at the same time, it makes me swallow like a fucking teenager. Hormones rage through my body as she takes off the tiny bit of scrap between her legs, exposing her bare pussy. And my God, does it look tasty.

  Her fingers curl around the edge of my boxer shorts, and just the touch of her fingers on my skin makes me stiff. I struggle to contain a hiss as she rolls down the fabric, her eyes never leaving mine. Except for when my cock springs out, fully erect.

  Which is also when her eyes grow big and her pierced tongue dips out to lick her lips.

  Fuck. Me.

  The way she looks at me fucks me up, dammit.

  I want her so badly, but how could she want me when I look like this? It makes no fucking sense.

  After pulling off my shorts and throwing them to the side, she quickly stands again, and I realize that I might have crossed a line when I got hard.

  Even though I can’t do much about my hunger for her, she shouldn’t have to face it all the time. Not when I keep her in my home like a goddamn prisoner. I want her to want me without it being fake, without her doing it just to get free.

  So when she grabs my hand to pull me under the shower, I grab her arm and say, “I don’t want you if you don’t want me.”

  “What’s this all about?” She raises a brow.

  “My cock and your fucking tongue almost licking it, that’s what,” I growl.

  “Oh …” A devious grin appears on her face. “Well, who says I don’t want you too?”

  I frown at her, grunting. “Don’t believe it.”

  She makes a face and shakes her head. Then she pulls me under the water. “Believe what you wanna believe.”

  Water pours down onto my face, but I brush it away and grab her arms. “Look at me!” I say, pointing at my face.

  “I’m looking straight at you,” she says.

  Point blank.

  Not a fucking bullet can hit me the way she does with just her words.

 
For a few seconds, the silence hangs between us and the only sound is the water cascading down our bodies. I can’t help but feel completely lost in her eyes. I don’t just want her. I need her like I need the air I breathe. Like I need someone to fix this broken heart of mine. And it feels like she’s reaching for it with her bare hands, straight through my fucking chest.

  Fuck it.

  I grab her face and pull her in for a full-on kiss on the lips.

  I don’t go easy. I don’t go soft.

  I take her mouth like it was mine from the start, licking her lips to coax her to open them.

  Screw our differences, screw our situation, and screw what we look like or where we came from.

  I’m staking my claim, and she belongs to me now.

  I kiss her as deeply as possible, licking her with fervor, wanting to taste every inch of her.

  I don’t know what drives me to take and take until there’s nothing left.

  Maybe it’s the fear that every kiss may be the last. If so, I have to make the best of it.

  But when her fingers thread around my neck, I pull back. My body acts on its own, flinching, not knowing how to respond to her touch. It feels awkward, out of place. As if she’s not supposed to touch me that way even though I want her to.

  She sucks on her bottom lip and lowers her hand to my chest. I can feel her every movement, skin to skin, and it literally sucks the air out of my lungs.

  “How long … since you’ve been touched like this?” she asks softly.

  “Long time,” I reply, clearing my throat. It’s fucking embarrassing, but lying’s no use. I know she’ll see right through it. She already has, judging by the look in her eyes as she continues to touch me.

  “You asked me to dance for you … so you could touch yourself and not be touched by me?”

  I nod, licking my lips as she narrows her eyes. When I think about that day, seeing her dance, I could still jerk myself off to that image for months to come.

  “But I wasn’t the first …” she adds.

  “I needed my release,” I say. “I know it’s bad—”

  She places a finger on my lips. “I understand. It’s a human need. But you only wanted to know my name.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.

  I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers. “You looked, even though you were forbidden. I admired your fearlessness. It’s … sexy.”