“I'll go get you dinner,” Vic said, rising.
“No, I can get it,” I responded, making a move to rise. Vic whipped his head back so fast I felt that I would get whiplash.
“You're staying in bed until tomorrow.”
I scowled. “What if I need to use the bathroom?”
“I'll bring you a bedpan,” Vic replied, dead serious.
My jaw dropped open and then I started to laugh. Full on, gut-bursting, laughter.
“You can’t be serious!”
“I'm completely serious.”
I shook my head before I realized what a terrible mistake I made. “Ow, fuck!” I stopped shaking my head and looked at him. I tried to make my eyes as scary as possible, but that was impossible considering they were watering from the pain. And I was wincing. “That's not going to happen. Ever,” I mumbled.
Raising an eyebrow, he folded his arms, muscles bulging like they were mutinous beneath his skin. “What do you propose, Lennox?”
I stared at him like he was an alien.
“Duh. Going to the bathroom like a normal person? Like, in the bathroom.”
He smirked. “Don't you remember the last time I left you alone in the bathroom?” Vic asked.
If I wasn't bed bound and completely infirmed, I would be so livid right now. Of course, how could I forget? Well, actually, the head injury is how I could forget, but I hadn’t forgotten. A little bad luck in the shower wasn't going to keep me from going to the bathroom alone forever. I told him as much.
Vic didn’t bat an eye. “I'm not letting you go by yourself in your state, Lenny.”
“Is this because the good doctor gave you a tongue-lashing?” I pressed, knowing I was pushing his buttons. I couldn't help myself. It was like playing with fire. Beautiful. Hot. Completely dangerous. Vic's smirk turned into a deep glare and I found myself smiling smugly in return.
“I'm going to get you dinner.” Vic turned and walked out the door, leaving my question unanswered.
Depending on what he was getting me, I had a couple of minutes to a couple of hours to myself. If I wanted any privacy in the bathroom, I needed to go now.
Silently, so as not to alert my overbearing, but hot-as-hell, watcher, I slid out from beneath the covers and onto the hardwood floor. It was cold beneath my feet.
“Woah.” I was getting dizzy. I could either get back in bed and concede defeat, or call Vic and concede defeat. Or . . . I dropped to my knees and began crawling to the restroom. “Don't let them see weakness, Moore!” I whisper-yelled to myself. Sure, I might be so weary that I'm literally crawling to the bathroom, but I'm doing it on my own. No help, whatsoever. That's right, I'm a badass.
When I reached the bathroom I pulled myself up onto the toilet and finished in record time. I crawled back to the bed just as Vic returned.
“Where were you?” he asked, eyeing the disheveled comforter.
“Nowhere.” I gave him my most indignant look. “I am hurt and infirmed. I can barely move my head, where could I possibly have gone?”
Vic looked at the bathroom. He cocked his head, clearly listening to the running water as the toilet tank refilled. “Nowhere?”
“Nowhere.”
He squinted at me. “I brought you soup.”
“Yummy. What are you eating?”
“Nothing,” Vic replied. He was so good at laconic one-liners that I was starting to wonder if he descended from Sparta. Or a hybrid Japan-Sparta that was lost to history. That makes sense, sort of. I mean, he has the build for it.
“Nothing?” I pressed. He shook his head. I folded my arms and said, “I'm not eating if you're not.”
Vic sighed. “I'm not hungry, Lennox. Please eat.”
I was prepared to argue, but the pleading look in Vic's eyes stopped me. He wasn't the kind of man to plead. He was the kind to force feed you until your teeth broke and your mouth was bloody. Plus, I was hungry. Starved, in fact. My stomach had surpassed the growling stage and had moved on to eating itself.
I shrugged. “Okay.”
He visibly sagged in relief and brought the food to me. It was on a wooden tray with a mosaic pattern on the inside. It was quite fancy for a TV tray. It was one of those items that I had considered buying, but often bought something else instead. Like expensive shampoo. Who needs a nice TV tray when you can have great smelling hair?
I took a sip of the soup and then smiled. It was so tasty! “This is really good!” I took another sip.
“It's miso soup. My mom's recipe. Before my dad went... well, before, they tried to incorporate my culture as much as they could. Her miso was the fucking tits.” Vic looked away, his eyes unfocused.
“I think I've had this before,” I mumbled, gulping down the soup. It was super ladylike, but whatever, I was hungry.
“Not like this, you haven't.”
He was right, and I was too busy eating to argue. There was tofu, some type of seasoned meat, and I think seaweed. I usually shied away from seaweed but in this soup it tasted divine. I scarfed the whole serving down in minutes. I stared at my empty bowl in surprise when my spoon came up empty. Never Have I Ever . . . finished an entire helping of soup. Not that I don't like soup, but soup is hard to finish. It's so much liquid to fit in your gut.
Vic interrupted my bemusement. “There is plenty more.”
I patted my stomach and smiled. “I'm stuffed.”
Vic clapped his hands together. “Good! I'm going to put the food away and you're going to go to bed. It's late.”
I’ve noticed that he does the hand-clapping gesture when he wants to get attention and simultaneously end something. Has that always been a quirk of his, or is it a new habit?
Vic started to stand up, reaching for the TV tray. I grabbed his wrist.
Oh, shit, what was I doing? I had new energy from the meal and emotions were bubbling up inside me, the traitorous things. I had to say something to him.
He was taking care of me, he was being protective, he was being sweet to me. Vic was acting like he wanted me. More than a friend.
Vic stared at my hand on his wrist, nonplussed. Clearly, he was waiting for me to do or say something. I was waiting for the same thing. My brain had spazzed out. It must have been the concussion. We were friends! Not lovers. Never lovers.
“Why are you doing this?” I blurted out. Oh shit, here it goes. The boulder is tumbling down the hill, out of control. I've lost it and it's not coming back.
“You got hurt on my property.” Vic sat back down, gearing up for a conversation with me.
My stomach sank. “So that's it? I'm an obligation.”
Vic's face closed off. “Exactly.”
“Really, Vic? That's all this is to you?” I was going for it, emotions be damned. Dean be damned. He didn't factor in this. This was me and Vic. No, but really, Dean be damned to hell. A fiery hell. A spot next to Sisyphus, preferably. “You don't feel anything else?” I crawled across the bed to him, placing myself near his lap. I heard him suck in his breath. That's something right?
I wasn't wearing the sexiest clothes. When I passed out, Vic dressed me in one of his shirts. It was big on me, falling just above my bum. I know sometimes guys can think that's sexy, but, honestly, I just felt gross. Like when I was sick and wore my big clothes because I wanted to be comfy. I wasn't wearing sexy underwear. I hadn't packed any sexy underwear. I was wearing my hipster, cotton panties. No lace in sight. This trip was supposed to be about friendship and powwows, not sexy underwear. Oh, how quickly things can change. Still! I'm going to make this work for me. My underwear shows off my bum at least, so, there's that.
“Lenny...” Vic looked away from me.
“I can't be the only one that feels this.” I inched closer to him, ignoring the pounding in my skull. “Don't you want this?”
“I do.” Vic snapped his head back to me, his eyes glowing with some indeterminate emotion.
I felt it again, that magnetic pull. I couldn't look away from him; I couldn't stop my body fr
om moving toward him. Vic put his hand out toward me, placing it on my stomach. He was trying to push me away, but I grabbed his hand and moved closer.
It's a good thing I already decided not to give up, because he was seriously trying to reject me. But I saw it. I saw that glimmer of want in his eyes and I was going to pull it out of him even if it was as hard as pulling teeth.
Super romantic.
“Vic.” I moved onto him, straddling his lap. I could feel him grow hard beneath me.
He reached up and stroked my face. I leaned my face into his palm.
“We can't do this, babe,” Vic said, his eyes growing sad.
“Why?” I asked, shifting, feeling his growing length. Wow, that feels good.
Vic closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, and his face grew deliciously erotic.
I shifted again, trying to get more of that sexy face. Vic placed his hands on my hips and held me in a vice grip. “Stop,” he said, his voice hard as nails. He sounded strained, like his entire body was being pulled apart.
I tried to move again. It was impossible, he had me completely at his mercy, and right now he wanted me to stay still. This was so not working. I stopped trying to move and just held still. He released his grip a little bit, clearly thinking he'd won.
An idea came to me, completely irrational and at the same time (maybe) brilliant. Without giving him time to react I pulled the shirt up over my head, baring myself completely.
Vic hissed. “Jesus, Lennox.”
I'd never felt so utterly exposed in my entire life. I'd been with so many guys before (really way too many to count), but I'd never cared what they thought. Here I was, putting myself on display for Vic and freaking praying he found me presentable. I wanted him badly, I needed him, and I was basically begging him. I nearly loathed myself for how much control he had over me, but that didn't change the fact.
I looked away, getting the vibe that he was not into this and I should run and take cover while I still had some dignity.
“Don't. You. Dare.” Vic grabbed my chin and pulled my eyes to his.
Once again, I was captivated by his eyes. He was staring into my soul and sucking it out of me, taking it and owning it. I gasped, struggling to breathe.
He held my chin, but he was no longer looking at my face. His eyes wandered down, surveying me like a newly-cut diamond. I felt his gaze reach my breasts and my nipples grew hard in response. He made me watch him as he devoured me with nothing save his eyes. I started to pant. When his eyes came back to mine, I felt like molten lava. “You are beautiful. Goddamn beautiful.”
I was soaked through my cotton underwear, I could feel it. My thighs were slick and wet. I was so ready for him. The minute he let go of my chin I was going to devour him, head injury be damned. I'm sure Vic could sense my plan, because a small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He touched my lower lip with his forefinger, still gripping my chin. I tried to suck his finger, but he moved it away. I let out a moan of frustration.
He pulled me to him, his arms wrapping around my naked waist. I could feel his calloused hands rubbing my lower back, his chest muscles rippling against my front. I sighed, and leaned in for a kiss . . . when he pulled back.
“I can't do this with you. I just . . . can't. I can't give you what you deserve.”
What? I blinked furiously. My body felt like it had just been doused in cold water. Did he really just do all of that to me only to pull the rug out from under my feet? What. Utter. Bullshit.
“Bullshit,” I said. His eyes went wide. Mine filled with tears. I pushed him away, reaching for his stupid shirt. I couldn't even wear my own shirt. How fucking demeaning. “Yeah, bullshit. That's what guys say to girls when they don't want to be the bad guy. 'Oh, you’re too good for me.' Bullshit. If you don't want this, then just fucking say so already.”
Dammit. His eyes. They pierced me like black daggers. A freaking void that I could get caught up in forever.
“I don't want this,” he finally said.
Wow, talk about an anvil being dropped. The Acme Corporation should sponsor Vic.
“Take me home,” I whispered. I slowly climbed off Vic and to the edge of the bed. My legs hung limply off the side.
“You're not ready—”
“Take me the fuck home or, so help me God, I will hitchhike even if I have to blow truckers to get there.” Not entirely true, but it got my point across. I'm sick of him teasing me. Smirking at me. Playing the nice little doctor while I was at his mercy. Fuck this bullshit. It was too confusing.
“Fine,” Vic spat.
“Great!” Childish, but I wanted the last word. I stared at my feet, refusing to look at him.
Vic slammed the door on his was out of the room. I grabbed my head, pain rippling through me everywhere. It wasn't my heart hurting, I swear. Ugh, concussions suck.
So, the relaxing weekend that Vic had talked me into kind of backfired. And by kind of, I mean it completely backfired. Instead of spending the weekend with my new friend, enjoying the quiet of the country, and keeping warm by the fire, I smacked my head on a rock and had to be babied. And then, I came onto him. Hard. And he rejected me. Hard.
We haven't spoken to each other since we got back. Or more accurately, I haven't spoken to him. He keeps trying to make contact with me, but I, being mortified, avoid him.
Vic and I can't happen. Sure, it seemed like there was something between us up at the cabin. Sure, I had Zoe's words echoing in my head the whole time: “He doesn't do this with anyone, Lennox,” she said before I left for the cabin.
I'm still trying to ignore the fact that foreplay with Vic was hotter than the hottest sex I've ever had, and we didn't even kiss.
Vic is complicated. I'm still dealing with the complications of my last boyfriend. Why can't opposite genders just be friends? They can. At least, that's what I'm trying to tell my vagina.
Notwithstanding Vic's obvious anger issues, he has secrets. And with secrets come skeletons. If I let Vic into my life for real, before I know it I will be in the backyard with a shovel helping him bury his skeletons. Is it so much to ask that I take time to bury my own skeletons first? That's what I'm telling myself, at least.
All of this assumes that Vic even wants to be with me, which is clearly not the case. He made that quite clear at the cabin.
Still, I can't seem to get him off of my mind. Fucking Vic. Fucking Vic? There I go again! I should be working on last minute details for a party, but instead I'm thinking of Vic. Thinking of Vic in his tight, black sweater. Thinking of Vic without his tight, black sweater. Vic, totally naked. If the muscle definition that shows through his shirts says anything about what's underneath . . .
I gave a low whistle and slouched back into my cream colored wingback chair. My thoughts were running wild; I needed a distraction. Usually, the neutral palate of my home provided a nice, quiet, calming space for my brain. Right now, however, it was proving a clean slate for my mind to run wild. All I could think was Vic, Vic, Vic, Vic. I was obsessing, something I did quite well.
I heard the click of a key sliding into the front doorknob. I turned my head and watched the knob move left and right, hypnotized. It was either Vic or Dean and, after the cabin, I actually would prefer Dean. With a final snick, the lock released and the door opened.
“What are you doing?” Vic asked. He had a bad habit for abusing his landlord key.
Not obsessing over you or your naked body. “Nothing,” I replied, squinting my eyes to hide what I’d been thinking. Whenever I was with him, I felt like my brain was an open book.
“So, you're free?” Vic asked, slouching against the side of my door.
I bit the inside of my lip trying to compose myself. Compared to his cool and collected demeanor, I was a Tasmanian devil. Already I’d said I wasn't doing anything, but I could not hang out with him. I needed time to decompress and figure out what was going on inside my head. Obviously I was attracted to him. Fine. I was attracted to David Duchovny, but that didn't mea
n I thought we should be together. Anyhow, Vic was as attracted to me as David Duchovny knew I existed.
Being friends was tricky. No, being friends with Vic was tricky. I don't understand why I can't just be friends with him. I have male coworkers that I don't entirely loathe. Vic shouldn't be any different.
“Lenny?” Vic asked, straightening up a bit. “You've been sitting there silently for two minutes. Having a brain aneurysm?”
I suppose you're only allowed long internal monologues in movies, not in real life. “If I was, that's not really the appropriate response.”
“Are you free?” he repeated.
“Not exactly,” I said. I'm a chicken. He’d rejected me and now I was afraid of it happening again. Technically, he never said he wanted to be more than friends. But I pushed, he said no, and I got butthurt. Using nakedness as a weapon . . . tsk, tsk. I got what I deserved. I should be over it, but I'm not.
Continuing, I said, “I've got this really important bat mitzvah in a week, and I've got a lot of last-minute planning to do.” Yeah, bat mitzvahs are really hard to plan. It's not like every party does the exact same thing: superhero bar mitzvah, celebrity bat mitzvah… Ugh.
Vic studied me.
I swear, he can see right through me. Okay, I’ve already finished planning this fashion show bat mitzvah, however, it's not as though I'm entirely lying. I do have a lot of last minute details to finalize. I need to tell the baker it's spelled A-M-I-E-E not A-M-Y. Really important stuff.
But, let’s face it: I’m lying because I don’t trust myself around Vic. I am worried I’ll do or say something that would let him know I am still attracted to him. Completely head-over-heels attracted. I love being around Vic, his stillness calms my choppy waters. I don’t want to lose that because I’d been behaving like some drunk and horny teenager at the cabin.
“Okay,” Vic finally said.
For a moment I thought he was angry, but then he smiled. He has the most beautiful smile. It outlines his gorgeous, square jaw. When his smile reaches his eyes (and this time it did), I can’t help but feel it at all over my body.
You Own Me (Owned Book 1) Page 7