Like it's not his home. It's just a place he stays.
“How long have you lived here?” she found herself asking as she tip toed around. She felt like she was in a museum. Out of habit, she spoke in a soft voice.
“About five years.”
“Jesus,” she whispered, peeking around the living room. Not a pillow out of place, not even a remote left out on a table.
“You don't approve, Tocci?”
She finally turned to face him. The living room and dining room both abutted the front windows, and he was between them. He was standing up very straight – a defensive pose for him, she knew – and he had his hands shoved into his pockets. He should've looked odd, wearing expensive slacks and shiny black shoes along with only a sleeveless white undershirt on top. His hair was mussed up from their struggles, and she hadn't noticed in Carmel, but it had gotten long since their first date. It looked good. Wulf needed a little ruffling.
“It's beautiful here,” she was honest.
“Thank you. I paid a lot of money to make sure it was beautiful.”
“Money doesn't buy everything, Wulf.”
“I am very aware of that, Katya.”
It was such a charged moment. They were both saying very little, but it all meant so much more. Again, she found herself wishing he would just let go. Just say whatever it was he had to say. Get it all out, scream, yell, break something, anything, so she could have some closure, at least. She held her breath and waited, but his stubbornness won out over her body. A cold shiver raced down her spine, causing everything to shake for a moment.
“You should go get changed,” he sighed, moving from his spot. Those weren't the words she wanted to hear. Something in her brain snapped. What was she doing there? What was she really doing in his place? He clearly didn't have the balls to say what he wanted.
Well, good thing she did.
“What do you want from me?” she asked in a loud voice. He stopped mid-walk, one foot in front of the other, barely three feet away from her.
“Excuse me?”
“I never understood,” she said, holding out her hands. Her purse fell to the floor. “Why did you ask me out? You asked me out on a date. Why?”
“I told you why.”
“Then why'd you keep seeing me? You pursued this, Wulf. You showed up at my work, you showed up at my house. If all you wanted was sex, you had it. Why the long talks? Why the meals? What do you want from me?” she demanded.
He was silent for so long, she almost gave up on him. She'd already wasted so much time on the man – maybe he was just a lost cause. But as she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the final goodbye, he opened his mouth.
“Everything,” he said softly, staring straight at her. “I want everything.”
It almost killed her, but she refused to be taken in by beautiful words.
“That's not good enough,” she said, shaking her head. “You could've had everything. You walked away. And now you've brought me here. What do you want.”
“I ...”
“Jesus, Wulf. Just say it. Have you ever said it? About anything? What do you want for Christmas? For your birthday? Just for you. Only you. What do you want.”
“I just want you.”
“Really? Could've fooled me – you basically called me a naive slut, and then said I was stupid for thinking there was anything special between us.”
“I know I did. I was so angry at myself, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry.”
“Don't tell me you're 'sorry'.”
“Then what do you want me to tell you?”
“What you really want from me.”
Katya could just tell – he was still holding back. It was almost fascinating to her. A rich man, a powerful man, a successful man, yet he was completely unable to articulate his feelings. His basic wants and needs.
He sighed and rubbed a hand across this jaw, then took a couple steps towards her. He stopped in front of her. Not quite touching, but she could feel his body heat. Could see the confusion in his eyes while he seemed to search the floor for his answers. Eventually, he took another sigh and finally looked at her.
“I want you to look at me in that way you do – like I'm everything,” he said in a simple voice. “I want to see that look every single day. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, all the time. I want to be the only man that gets to touch you, hold you, kiss you. I want you to know … know that I look at you the same way. Like you're everything. You're everything to me.”
So many words strung together. Wulf rarely said a lot, but damn, when he did, he didn't mess around. She was blinking away tears by the time he was finished speaking. She looked away from him, trying to break the moment.
If she didn't, she'd end up broken.
“That's nice to hear,” she whispered, and out of her peripheral, she watched him hold his breath. “But if you felt that way, how could you say those things to me? I felt like I was going to die. Like you were hitting me. I don't understand how you could treat someone you care about that way. I just … I can't. I can't understand it, at all.”
Suddenly, he was in her personal space. Chest pressing against her shoulder, head bent to stare straight down at her. She refused to return the look and kept her eyes trained on the view. On the twinkling lights of the city.
“I wanted you to hurt. I was trying to put an end to your feelings,” he whispered back. “I thought … I knew if I didn't end it, you'd eventually leave me. And I couldn't handle that kind of pain.”
She finally looked up at him. It was heartbreaking. He looked like he was in pain right then. She was certainly in pain. So much hurting between two people who only wanted to love each other.
This is a very broken man.
“Why would you think I'd leave you?” she asked.
“Because, Katya. I'm a very bad man, who does very bad things, and you're a very good girl. It can't end any other way.”
She sucked in air quickly, dropping her gaze. It hurt, hearing him talk about himself that way. She remembered how Liam would get so angry at her whenever she said anything negative about herself. Now she understood. Hearing Wulf say that, it felt like hearing someone else say it. She wanted to get mad. She wanted to defend him, against himself. She wanted to hold up a mirror so he could see what she saw in him.
If she spoke, though, the tears would come. She didn't know how to help him. She'd already given huge pieces of herself, she wasn't sure she had anything else to give. Would he have to consume her, in order to feel whole? Would she have to break, in order for him to bend?
He seemed to understand that it was too much for her. He stepped away, cleared his throat, then walked back down the hall towards the entrance. She heard a door open, then a light was switched on. She took a couple fortifying breaths as he walked back into the living room.
“Go get changed,” he said. “Vieve stayed here last year, left some clothes. I put them in the bathroom for you.”
He followed close behind her as she walked down the hall, but he didn't touch her. She stepped into a guest bathroom and he yanked a towel off a rack, handing it to her. Then he left, shutting the door behind him.
Katya immediately sat down on the closed toilet. What. In the actual. Fuck. How … how had this all happened? She'd been on a date with Liam. Now she was on the other side of town, with Wulf. And what the hell was that about – she hadn't known where he lived, she'd gotten on a random train at a random stop and gotten off at a random time, then walked. She'd walked forever. San Francisco wasn't exactly huge, but it wasn't tiny either.
Talk about a cruel twist of fate.
She finally stood up, shivering as she did so. He kept the apartment ridiculously cold, she could feel the air conditioning washing over her. She took her shoes off and shimmied out of her dress.
When she looked up, she saw her body from her thighs up in his huge mirror. She was wearing her special black matching bra and panties – only brought out for good dates. Her eye makeup w
as a little smudged, giving her a slightly haunted look, and her hair was a frizzy ball on her head. She chuckled as she took out all the pins and bands, allowing the heavy tresses to fall around her shoulders.
Good lord, he'd said those beautiful words to a train wreck.
She shook her head. Such negative thoughts about herself. Who gave a fuck what she looked like when they were both on the verge of nervous breakdowns?
We need to stop this. He beats himself up, I beat myself up, and pretty soon, we're beating on each other.
She glanced at the door and started breathing fast. Whenever Katya was hurting, she wanted comfort. She wanted her mother, or Tori, or Liam, to wrap their arms around her and hold her. Tell her everything would be alright. That she was loved and trusted and that they would never, ever hurt her.
Wulf was hurting, and his first reaction had been to lash out. To hurt someone else. Because he hadn't known any better.
She didn't bother with the clothes he'd left her – she slipped back into his shirt and hastily fastened a few buttons before leaving her tiny sanctuary.
He was back in the same spot, between the living room and kitchen. His back was to her and he was staring out over the city. One hand was in a pocket, the other was hanging at his side, holding an old fashioned glass. There was a sliver of amber liquid in the bottom, though she knew him well enough to know that it had probably been three fingers high when he'd poured it.
I know you, Wulf. I know you.
Suddenly feeling nervous and shy, she gathered her hair over one shoulder, then made the slow march towards him. In her bare feet, she was barely a whisper as she moved through the apartment. It wasn't till she was almost right behind him that he heard her. He glanced over his shoulder, then turned around. He quirked up an eyebrow at her appearance but didn't say anything. Just drank the last of his cognac.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, staring up at him, refusing to be afraid.
“Okay,” he said, leaning over and setting the glass on his table.
She didn't speak, though. She kept staring. He held so much weight on his shoulders. His businesses, his family. He was so strong, it was unbelievable. Maybe, though, just maybe it was time for someone to be strong for him, for once. She stepped even closer, her breasts brushing against him.
“You need to hear this,” she whispered, reaching up and pressing her hand over his heart. “You're not a bad man.”
“Katya, you don't -”
She moved her hand from his heart and covered his mouth.
“You're not. I know you're a good person, because I care about you, and I'm a good person. It's okay to not be perfect. It's okay to feel things, sometimes. Even scary things. Because I'm here, Wulf. After everything. You're not alone, I'm not leaving. I wouldn't leave you. I care about you. I trust you. And I would never, ever, hurt you,” she promised him. His eyes fell shut and he leaned forward to press his forehead to hers.
“Don't say these things. You can't take them back,” he said. She now had her hands on either side of his face.
“I don't want to take them back. You can't take back the truth. It's already there – we just need to be brave enough to say it out loud.”
“I'm bad for you,” he whispered, his voice low and scratchy. He tried to step back, to break their connection and get away from her – get away from the truth, but Katya stepped even closer, bringing herself flush with him. Refusing to give up on him.
“You're everything to me,” she whispered back.
“I'm going to hell for what I've done to you.”
“And I'll bring you back,” she insisted, already over the fight they'd had. Over the walls they had between them. His hands slid onto her hips, and she thought maybe he was over them, too.
“There's no going back from this,” he warned her.
“It's way too late for that,” she agreed.
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“You're not alone. I'm here.”
For the first time ever, when Wulf kissed her, she could feel his nerves. Feel how unsure he was. Like he was afraid of her. What a shocking revelation. She'd brought such an amazing man to his knees, had him quaking in fear. Her, little Katya Tocci.
She wouldn't allow it. He tried to pull away, and she got closer still. He tried to stop the kiss, she pressed her lips harder. Stood on her toes and combed her fingers through his hair, smoothed her tongue over his bottom lip.
Even Wulf had his breaking point, and he finally reached it. His hands balled into fists, pulling the shirt tight across her back. His tongue slid between her lips and he leaned into the kiss so much, she was forced backwards. He followed and they sidestepped into the living room.
“You don't understand,” he breathed into her.
“I don't need to,” she cut him off.
He gripped the front of the shirt and yanked. Buttons went flying, then his hands were on her skin, skimming across her hips. Caressing her back lightly before squeezing her sides. Gripping her tightly around her ribs.
She wasn't surprised that he could pick her up – all those years in a pool had ensured Wulf could pretty much do any physical activity he wanted. She braced her hands on top of his shoulders while she was lifted high enough that she had to look down at him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, then coiled her arms around his neck as she settled into place.
“No going back,” he repeated his earlier statement, kissing and licking along her neck. She let her head drop back.
“I know.”
He carried her into the living room, then he sat down on a plush sofa. She stayed wrapped around him, wanting to envelop him in her love. She'd been given so much, all her life. By so many people. It felt right to pass some of it on to Wulf. He needed it more than her.
His dress shirt was shoved away from her shoulders, fluttering to the ground without another thought. Between kisses, she tugged and pulled at his undershirt. He lifted his arms and she was finally able to yank it free from his body.
While they were still locked at the mouth, he wrapped an arm around her waist and twisted to the side, forcing her to lay down. He hovered, keeping his weight off her while his tongue dove into her mouth, over and over again.
When he pulled away, she tried to follow him, but he pressed a hand to her sternum while he licked a path down her cleavage. Kissed his way across her stomach, nibbled on her hip bone. Her legs were already parted for him and when he reached their center, he paid no attention to her panties. She gasped as she felt his tongue through the fabric, moaned at the friction meeting wetness.
She could never imagine doing something so intimate with anyone else, ever again. He was the only one she trusted to take care of her needs, to do it oh so perfectly, without her having to say a word. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting a hand into his thick hair.
She was panting and desperate when he pulled away to suck at the inside of her thigh. She groaned and reached for him, but he was gone. She writhed around on the couch, trying to find him, needing his touch.
He didn't deny her for long. She felt his hands gripping her knees, and she was startled as she was dragged down the length of the sofa. He was back between her legs and without question, she locked them around him. His hands had a desperation to them she'd never felt before, as they prodded and pawed at her. Yanked her up into a sitting position, then hoisted her into his arms.
He carried her into his bedroom, kicking the door open with enough force it bounced off the wall behind it, leaving a crater in the sheet rock. He didn't seem to care – he was too busy pulling her bra apart and flinging it across the room.
She was laid out after that, her underwear stripped away. Before she'd even sat up, he was stepping out of his pants and covering her with his body.
They rolled around for a bit, making the room almost humid with how hot they were getting, with how heavy they were breathing. Everything became damp, her fingers skating around on his sweat soaked skin, her tongue sliding
along his slick lips.
“On top,” he panted when she wrapped her fingers around the base of his dick. He didn't wait for an answer, he rolled them again so she was astride him, straddling his hips. He put his arms behind him, propping himself upright. “I want to see you. I want you to look at me.”
“You see me,” she whispered back, working her hand up and down his shaft a couple times before shifting over him.
She stared him straight in the eye the whole time she was sliding down his length. Kept staring as she let her mouth drop open so she could moan at the intrusion. At the effort it took for her not to shake. Not to cry.
She sat for a long moment, adjusting to his size. He had his forehead to her clavicle and was breathing heavy. Then she worked her hips back and forth once, and they both moaned. He fell back onto the mattress as she set up a rhythm, one of his hands cupping her breast while the other squeezed her thigh, urging her faster.
She didn't want to even be that far away from him. She fell forward, her auburn locks becoming a curtain around them as she kissed him. Both his hands speared into her hair, holding her in place while his own hips started moving. Pumping back against her. She rotated her hips, he thrust forward. Rotate, thrust. She felt like she was going to take off, shoot forward, blast off. Like they were going to break the sound barrier.
She didn't want to ever stop kissing him – it was always a unique experience with Wulf, but when he was wild and unhinged, it was something else entirely. But if she didn't get some oxygen, she was going to pass out, and she couldn't allow herself to miss a single moment of that night. She sat upright, tossing her hair over her shoulder. He followed suit, propping an arm behind himself. He leaned into her chest, laving his tongue across a nipple.
“Wulf, I can't ...” she couldn't even think, not one little bit. “I can't … please ...”
He didn't say a word, just grabbed her hips and pushed her onto her back. He was so fast, he followed in time, not breaking their connection. He kissed her once, then jerked her roughly across the mattress. She was still shoving the comforter away from her face when he thrust his whole length into her again. She shrieked, then raked her nails down his chest.
Neighbors (Twin Estates #1) Page 26