by Belle Aurora
“About what Sasha said,” he prompted, his fingertips playing with the condensation on his glass.
My eyes narrowed slightly. “I think it’s great.”
“You could at least pretend to listen.” Vik’s smile did not reach his eyes. “But then, I know how flighty you are.”
Flighty?
My stomach clenched painfully.
This bitch.
Well, I guess we were doing this. “Are you sure you understood what was said?” My blood went from a quiet simmer to a vicious boil. “Sasha does use big words. I know that confuses you sometimes.”
“Guys,” Mina pleaded but was quickly cut off.
Cora sighed at the same time. “Can we not?”
“Are you getting what you need from this conversation?” Vik lifted his glass and sipped from it. “Maybe there’s another conversation out there that you’d be getting more from. I know how when you’re done with conversing with me, you like to run into a little French conversation.”
Anika gasped lightly.
Holy shit. He went there.
I was officially pissed and leaned in slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out.”
Standing up so roughly that my chair warbled loudly, I pointed at him and spoke through gritted teeth, “Kitchen. Now.”
The footfalls behind me told me he was following, and when I stalked into the next room and opened the door to the walk-in pantry, I all but shoved him in there and shut the door behind us.
“I can’t believe you,” I whisper-hissed, and when I spun around to face him, I probed, “What is your goddamn problem?”
Vik crossed his arms over his chest, looking bored.
Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare look so unaffected. Not when we both knew better.
I hated that.
My expression pleading, I spoke softly. “I’m trying here, Vik. I’m really trying. Do you think this is easy for me?” My feet moved as I began to pace. “I see you at work. I see you at home. Somehow, you’re always where I am. And, let me tell you, having you act like an ass doesn’t help. If I’m being completely honest, it hurts.”
But he was unmoved.
“This is what you wanted, Nas,” he muttered, uninterested. “I never said I’d pretend to be happy about it.”
Was he serious?
No. I never wanted this. “Can’t we just get along? For everyone else’s sake?”
“Get along?” His eyes darkened as he took a step toward me, then another. “Is that what you want?”
Why did he have to be so handsome?
Why did he push up his sleeves like that, giving me an indecent view of his lightly veined forearms? Damn it. He knew how much I liked that.
Also, why did everything have to end in an argument? I was so tired of arguing.
Not that I minded how our arguments ended, because they all ended the same way.
The second I realized what we were doing, I gasped, and my eyes widened. The frown was ripped from my face, and I quickly glued on a huge smile that I did not feel.
A rushed whisper shot out of my mouth. “No, no, no, no, no.” But when he attempted to speak, I pressed my finger to his lips, squishing them lightly as I shushed him. My voice took on a gentle, serene tone. “Inside voices. We’re staying calm. We aren’t arguing. Everything’s good. We’re happy, we’re smiling, and we’re two adults just having a conversation. That’s all.” A strained laugh left me. “We’re having a good time.”
Vik watched me closely, and from the way his brow furrowed, I could tell he was confused by the sudden change in direction. “Why are you acting so weird?”
“I’m not.” My smile wavered but only slightly.
“You are.”
I shook my head, and my cheeks ached. “No, I’m not. I’m just trying to avoid conflict.”
“Why?” His heavy brow narrowed with suspicion. “You never have before.”
My brain-to-mouth filter stammered, and the honest to God truth was worse than any lie I could’ve come up with. “Because if we fight, we’ll kiss. And if we kiss, there is a strong possibility that you’ll end up with your hand in my panties. If that happens, I’m going to come and want you to mount me like a mutt stealing away with a thoroughbred. And that’s the situation I’m trying to avoid here.”
And there it was. I was so weary of the fighting that I didn’t even have the grace to blush.
Of all the things he expected to hear, I could tell it wasn’t the candid confession he just got. I know this because he lost a lot of the tension he wore in his shoulders and returned a smartass, “Why? Sounds like a good time had by all.”
It did.
My sob was purely internal.
It really did.
My faux smile fell. “I don’t want to fight.” I tried to sound composed, but my voice shook.
“But we’re so much better when we fight.” His hulking build came closer and closer, walking me backward until my ass hit the wall. A thrum of awareness went through me, and my heart stuttered. “Remember?”
Uh oh.
I was trapped.
Icy blue eyes held me prisoner as he explained in perfect calm, “I don’t want that.”
My gut sank. “You don’t want us to get along?”
I did not know how to unpack that.
The way he ran his thumb over his lips, leisurely, without hurry, had me wishing for a taste.
“No.” He shook his head, and I felt I might cry until he said, “I want your passion. I want my savage girl. I want you. In my car, in my bed, by my side. I want to be inside your head while I’m thrusting inside your body.” It felt like I’d taken a solid hit to the solar plexus as he went on, ruining me with every word. “More than a decade together and you think I’m just gonna let you go on your merry way because you’re having doubts? Not a chance.”
My kitty purred.
Well, shit. What was I supposed to say to that?
Vik reached up, focusing on the place by my temple, pushing a stray hair behind my ear. “We were happy once, and we’re gonna be happy again. I’m good with giving you time, so I’ll be doing that. But this thing that’s happening right now? It’s not a permanent situation.” He paused. “It’s always been you and me, Nas.”
He was right. It had been.
Somewhere deep inside me, I felt something crack when he said the words we had been saying to each other since the very beginning. “Forever and always.”
My mouth dry, I uttered quietly, “Don’t do this.”
Why couldn’t he just let it go? Let me go?
Vik licked his lips, looked me dead in the eye, and broke my heart. “You’ve been my girl since I was a boy, and I’ll be damned if we’re not holding hands on the day we meet our maker.”
Any fight I had left me with those quietly spoken words. And, fuck me, I wanted to cry. If it were possible for a heart to swoon dead away, mine just had.
I found it hard to breathe. My knees almost gave out.
With a groan, I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. “You can’t say that kind of stuff to me, Vik.” I lowered my hands and looked up at him, imploring. “If you keep saying things like that, I’ll never get over you.”
“Good.”
He moved so quickly I didn’t have time to react, and when he lowered his lips to mine, I’m ashamed to say I lost control.
We kissed like we fought. Mean, rough, and grasping for control.
Never breaking contact, I forced him back into a shelf, and the groceries on it shifted with a thud. His arms snaked around me as he ate at my mouth, one at my back, the other squeezing my ass hard, and it hurt so good. His tongue stroked mine, and my hips bucked. Vik growled into my mouth, and moaning, I reached up and gripped the front of his shirt, both pushing him away and pulling him closer to me.
He picked me up and pinned me against the wall. I hit the back of my head and winced. “Ow.”
“Sorry,�
�� he panted into my mouth, then kissed me so deep, so desperately, that I swore for a single moment our souls merged.
The noises of clanging and banging and crashing sounded around us, and I found I didn’t care if we were making a scene.
My legs wrapped around him of their own accord, and his forearm hefted me higher, holding me up. Having been in this position so many times during the course of my life, I guess it was second nature. My panties were soaked through, and I might have been embarrassed had it not been for the thick, raging erection pressing up against my core.
I didn’t notice the change, but it was clear our kissing had grown softer, a gentler quality taking over, until the slow, wet kisses reminded me of Sunday morning lovemaking. Leisurely and full of feeling.
Tilting his hips, he rocked against me at the very same time his tongue dipped into my mouth, and I saw stars, very nearly coming on the spot.
And then it happened.
What are you doing, Nas?
The intrusive thought soured my mood and doused ice-cold water over my straining libido.
Sad and already mourning the loss of his mouth, I allowed him to kiss me a few seconds longer before I spoke against his lips. “Stop.”
Reluctantly, his kisses slowed, then came to a halt with a heavy sigh, and when he put his forehead to my shoulder, panting, I unconsciously reached up to stroke the back of his neck.
I loved this man. I loved him in a way no other could replicate. But unless he was willing to give me all of him, I couldn’t do this.
I deserved more.
He lifted his head, and his hooded gaze went to my swollen lips. As he opened his mouth to speak, a knock came from outside the pantry.
“Uh, guys?” It was Mina. “It kind of sounded like two racoons fighting in a trash can from out here.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”
Vik slowly let me down, studying my face as if trying to memorize every inch of it. My feet touched the floor, and I released the front of his Henley, smoothing my fingers over the now-scrunched material. When he stepped back, I wobbled on the spot, feeling awfully bereft of the warmth of his body.
We watched each other closely, and when my expression fell, Vik’s turned sullen.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, simply brushing my fingers against his as I swept past him and opened the door to the pantry.
Mina took one look at me, and her brows rose to her damn hairline. “Oh.”
Great. I looked that good, huh?
My cheeks heating, I ran a hand over my hair and refused to look at her. “So, I’m just gonna go.”
“Uh huh,” she muttered distractedly, inspecting me without shame.
And just because I wanted to avoid a situation, I slunk out the back door, just as Mina said, “Wow, Vik. Just wow.”
I didn’t wait to hear his response. I just needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.
I was moister than an oyster, horny as hell, and I needed to do something about that.
Call it self-care.
2
Nastasia
I woke in the morning with the strangest feeling I dreamed it all. I mean, I knew I hadn’t. I wore the evidence right there on my skin. The marks on my back from being thrown up against a wall, the slight beard rash on my chin, along with semi-swollen lips were more than enough to convict.
It happened, all right.
Confirmed twice over when I checked the text Vik sent me at 11:00 p.m.
Vik: We good?
It was the first time we’d connected via phone in almost two months.
I wondered if I should text back or not. Opening the line of communication was a dangerous thing for us. We could go from zero to a hundred real quick.
If history was ever to repeat itself, a single text could change everything.
My body felt light, having found my release for the second time that night, and I panted, throwing down my vibrator before checking my phone. My stomach tightened as I stared at the open screen, and because I was mildly satiated, I ran my legs over my silk sheets, savoring the feel of them as I texted back.
Me: Of course.
His response was immediate.
Vik: Good.
I should not have engaged, but hell, I was only human. Like an addict, I was already itching to text him back, but if I had proven anything to myself over the last few months, it was that I was stronger than I gave myself credit for, even if that strength was costing me my happiness momentarily. A heavy sadness went through me as I placed my phone on the nightstand and attempted to sleep, but it was difficult.
A mile a minute, my brain ran with thoughts, and while I tried to calm, unsurprisingly, they had the opposite effect.
The thought of him alone in his bed with nothing but me on his mind had my body turning restless. My mind took me back to the pantry scene, and, sweet Jesus, the harsh angles of his face had my legs squeezing together tightly, a dull throb below my belly. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut through diamond. A strong jaw that just begged to be nibbled. There was something endearing about that slightly crooked nose, one that had clearly taken a hit a time or two in the past. The heaviness of his brow gave him an air of being perpetually pissed off, but his sapphire-like eyes seemed to soften that part of him. His stance was one of cool conviction, almost an air of nobility to his gait. And those lips—ugh—full and lush and inviting, with a thin scar running through the left side of them.
I had kissed that scar a thousand times, and I ached to kiss it a thousand more.
Vik exposed a nerve I buried deep inside me.
Worst of all, he unlocked the box I’d buried even deeper than those feelings, where a single ember of hope still burned. So, when I received another message ten minutes later, my stomach knotted in anticipation.
Vik: Not gonna apologize, because I don’t regret it.
I read it once and again, then closed my eyes and groaned quietly, mock crying. With a sigh, I blew out a breath and muttered, “Of course you don’t, you beautiful bastard.”
It was such a defiant, bold response that I couldn’t help the smile that tipped my lips. The reply was purely Vik, brazen and insolent. My smile stretched wider. He was a fighter. Always had been. It was something that was ingrained in his very being.
A memory came out of nowhere, taking me back to the night that changed everything.
Nastasia
Age 17
The music blared, and every time the bass hit, I felt it everywhere. My heart pounded along to the beat, and I closed my eyes, swaying away to the song, feeling light and breezy. Not surprising, as I was six beers in.
Sounds of laughter, singing, and conversation surrounded us. Teens took up space on the sofa, passing along the one blunt they managed to get their hands on. Girls and guys danced too close to each other, alcohol lowering their every inhibition. Girls sat on the laps of their boyfriends with a sweet smile, as if we all couldn’t see hands sliding under skirts and moving in a way that promised pleasure.
And Anika stood by my side, sipping from her red cup, looking miserable.
She looked miserable a lot lately, but every time I brought it up, she would try her best to convince me she was fine. I left it alone, knowing she would tell me when she was ready.
Look, I was not the type to attend high school house parties, but Anika was a cheerleader, so a handful of times a year, I would make an effort to show my friend that I accepted that side of her and do my best to mingle with her preppy friends, even though they secretly made me want to barf.
Talk about shallow waters. The “like” girls was what I called them, because they, like, spoke like this.
It was only 9:00 p.m., and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d last. The only way to get through these parties was to drink enough to get blitzed, and I was already halfway to fucked up. It was easy to tell, because I was actually having fun.
Lucky for me, Anika actually cared about her mind and body, and she never drank more than a single be
er, leaving me free to let loose, knowing she would be watching me closely. She was a good friend.
Anika sighed, scanning the room with a pout. “I’m so bored.”
I was before, but now, I was not. Dancing on the spot to a beat only I seemed to hear, I moved my hips slowly, turning to face her. I hated to see her so glum.
I was going to fix that.
The only reason I offered what I did was because I was happily buzzed. “Let’s dance.”
“Really?” Anika’s face lit up. I did not dance at parties. Ever. She, of course, knew better than to give me a moment to think about it. Putting down her drink so fast it spilled, she took my hand. “Let’s go.”
The blatant change in her demeanor made it worth it though. I smiled as she led me to the center of the crowd, and she moved so fluidly to the music that I quietly understood why Anika did what she did. Dance was simply a part of who she was. An extension of her soul.
When we were five, I was making mud pies and secretly sniffing markers. Anika wanted to be a ballerina. She twirled and stretched and begged her mother to learn how to French braid so she could wear the most intricate of ballet buns. She stood on the tips of her toes, and even at that age, she was committed.
Meanwhile, I had no commitments to anything.
I went to almost every performance of hers, and Anika was amazing. She had the ability to make you feel things with her effortless movement.
I never understood why she quit.
But she always did some type of dance. She moved on to jazz, then contemporary, and when her school workload started to rise, she settled for cheerleading. It wasn’t dance exactly, but she enjoyed it, and that was all that mattered.
Anika’s friends joined us on the dance floor, and I was shocked to find that I actually didn’t mind their company. When the song ended, we retreated back to our corner with the girls in tow.
A brunette with a huge smile who seemed to bounce on the spot when she talked, Carla Martinez, gasped, gripping my arm tight enough to sting. “Oh my God. He’s here.”
Yo. I frowned, gently pulling her vice-like grip off of me. Hands off the merchandise, lady.