Mad Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance (Mad Valentine Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

XIII. Desire

We drove in silence to my apartment, except when I spoke up to give directions. When he pulled up to my curb, I was ready to go hide in my apartment—I didn’t know what had happened between us, but I felt rejected and confused. I took off his jacket and laid it on the bench seat next to him. Then I opened the car door and hurried out, saying as I went, “Thanks again, Victor. Good night.”

I slammed the car door shut.

Why am I acting this way?

Then I heard his door open.

“Ellen, wait.”

I stood there, but I didn’t look back at him. Emotions rioted inside me, but I couldn’t define them. I felt the hurry of Victor’s approach, and suddenly he was in front of me, grabbing my arms and looking down into my face.

“Ellen, listen. You need to know that I—” He stopped. “Shit,” he said under his breath. He started again, “Look, people don’t say nice things about me. But I want you to get to know me and form your own opinion. That’s why…why I don’t think we should…”

I stared back at Victor, listening to him trip over his words but wanting his hands to slide down my arms, to wrap themselves around me and to feel his body pressed against mine. These thoughts may have flashed in my eyes, and my mouth may have formed a sulky pout. Either way, Victor trailed off, and his eyes lingered on my lips. He was breathing heavily. I felt his grip on my arms tighten. “Fuck it,” he whispered, and stepping closer, he put his hands on my face and kissed me.

His kiss was like biting into a ripe, juicy berry. When he took my bottom lip between his and gently sucked, a tidal wave of desire washed over me. My knees went weak I kissed him back, hard, pulling him to me with my arms around his neck. He kissed me deeper, pinning me against the car as his hands traveled down my back. I moaned, and he groaned, pushing his body harder against me. It was everything I wanted from him—rough, messy, and uncontrolled; his kiss was bruising in its intensity. I moaned again into his mouth, my breasts pressing up against his chest. His mouth moved to my neck and I rolled my head to the side, gasping as his teeth grazed my sensitive skin. His hands traveled further down to my ass, feeling my every curve through the thin fabric of my dress. I felt a throbbing between my legs and I arched my back, aching for his hands to keep roaming, to keep exploring my body. I was at his mercy.

“Victor,” I managed to say breathlessly. “Take me inside.”

I was aching with desire, panting almost. But, as if I had cast some curse on the moment, his movements ground to a halt and he slowly pulled away. Cold air rushed into the space between us. When he spoke, his voice was raspy.

“Ellen,” he said, resting his hands on my hips and looking into my eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why not? I don’t care what other people say about you,” I said. We could both hear the urgency in my voice—I wanted him so badly.

“You should care,” he said, his jaw set. At these words, I felt a thrill of fear, but I was reeling from the thoughts and images racing through my mind. I pushed away the fear, adamant.

“But I don’t.”
Victor, please don’t make me beg
, I thought desperately
.
“I want you.”

I put my hands on top of his still resting on my hips. I drew him closer. I knew my eyes must be burning with desire because I still felt the steady throbbing between my legs. “I promise I will make it worth your while.” 

“Christ, Ellen,” he groaned. “You are fucking persuasive when you want to be.”

He looked away, exhaled, and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed to be steeling himself. Then he looked down into my eyes.

“I
cannot
go inside your apartment,” he said decisively. With that, he walked away from me, opened his car door, and slid onto the bench seat. I stood there, blinking in disbelief as I watched him.

“Are you serious?” I asked, disbelieving. I could still feel myself below the waist throbbing with desire, for crying out loud.

He started the car and revved the engine. Then he finally looked at me and gave me that devilish, crooked grin that always made my knees weak.

“Maybe next time, angel,” he said. And then he drove off.

XIV. Mistake

I fumed the next morning. I had fallen asleep drunk and frustrated after Victor’s tease the night before and woken up with a dull headache and a heavy heart. I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts were jumbled and unfocused.

Just when it seemed like Victor and I were getting closer, he pushed me away. He was continually pursuing me and then rejecting me. What was this all about? Was it a game? I certainly never asked for it. As hot as Victor was, I’d never asked for his attention, had I?

My thoughts wandered back to the night before, of Victor’s dark brown eyes and his lips on my mouth, of the way he had gently bit my lower lip and pulled it teasingly. I felt my heart drop and felt like crying.

Wait, why would I cry for him? I’m not going to cry. I’m not sad, I’m angry!

I shoved the covers out of the way and pushed myself out of bed. “Where’s my phone?” I demanded of the air.

I found my phone in my purse and my thumb raced across the number pad as I keyed in my pin and accessed the call log. I tapped on the fourth number on the list. I hugged my body as I listened to the phone ring. Suddenly, Warren’s voice was at the other end.

“Hey, buddy,” he said sleepily. “What’s up?”

“Hey, buddy,” I said. I tried to sound casual, but I was burning with frustration and I almost spat out the words. “Want to come over?”

“What, right now? It’s seven in the morning. It’s Saturday, isn’t it?”

Suddenly I felt ashamed.
Oh, god, what am I doing?
I felt sorry for bothering Warren. He may just be a fuck buddy but he deserved to get as much sleep as the next guy. And he didn’t deserve to be
used
like this.

“Never mind, Warren,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how early it was.”

“Are you all right?” came Warren’s incredulous voice.

“Yes,” I said, closing my eyes and forcing myself to calm down. “I’m fine. Sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.” At those words, the image of Victor leaving me the night before sprang into my head and my face flushed.

“Well, hey, I have to be on your side of town today anyway. I’m going to Fish’s at two to watch the game. Want me to stop by?”

No. That’s not what I want at all. What I want is Victor.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” I said. “You’re a real pal.”

“Man, you’re feeling pretty wound up, huh?” he said, chuckling.

“I dunno,” I said, faltering. “It’s hormones or something. Okay, give me a shout before you head over.”

“All right, buddy. Wear something nice for me?”

“Sure. How about nothing?” I quipped.

“Perfect.”

“And bring a condom.”

“On it. Later.”

I hung up, feeling like I had just placed an order for Chinese take out.

Hours later, I lay next to Warren, post-coital, flushed, and sweaty. He had certainly helped me work out my frustration. But I was still…upset. Why did Victor reject me? Did he want me or not? And why did this bother me so much? I had plenty of interests and friends and goals and things to keep me busy in life. The last thing I needed was to develop feelings for someone. Someone with a violent past and who played hot-and-cold games. That’s exactly what I didn’t want. But then…why couldn’t I just let these feelings go?

XV. Challenge

I didn’t see Victor again until class on Tuesday. I was still upset about his escape stunt, and I didn’t care how big and bad he was—I planned to make him suffer. I put on my slinkiest outfit acceptable for a Tuesday morning class with a bunch of writing nerds: a white, clingy, low-cut V-neck shirt paired with a tight, black mini-skirt. I added hoop earrings, heeled ankle boots and a necklace that hung in my exposed cleavage. For one last touch, I threw my dark hair up into a messy ponytail, sweeping my bangs over one eye for a flirty look. I looked in the mirror and was satisfied with the result—I was not hiding a single curve of my body.

Grabbing my leather satchel (not sexy, I know), I took myself and my thirst for retribution out the door and headed to class.

My plan was to arrive late so I could make Victor watch as I sat down. I knew the right moves—bending down ever so slightly so he could catch a glimpse of cleavage, crossing my legs so the skirt would reveal a little more thigh.
Hell, I could be as over-the-top and sex-addled-looking as that ridiculous girl he calls an ex-girlfriend
, I thought. With the class in its third week, I knew the seating had pretty much become permanent, and I was sure nobody would take my usual seat next to Victor. I would make him eat his heart out.

When I arrived at class, I found I was right about my seat but I timed my entrance a little too late. The professor was already speaking, and papers were being passed around the class. I wouldn’t have any time to talk to Victor and place my well-prepared digs strategically into our conversation.

Damn,
I thought as I slid into my seat as inconspicuously as I could. My goal had
not
been to bend over and have the whole back row gape at my butt.

As I sat down, Victor took in my outfit and raised an eyebrow at me. I looked straight ahead, stuck my nose in the air, and crossed my leg deliberately.

Hah! Get an eyeful now since you didn’t want it before, you jerk!

In response, Victor slid a sheet of paper onto my desk. It was a copy of the assignment that the professor had been handing out as I walked into class. He had thought to grab me a copy. I felt a brick drop to the pit of my stomach, but I pushed all feelings of guilt or shame or even gratitude aside.

When the professor, explaining the assignment, turned to write on the board, I leaned toward Victor and said close to his ear, “You’re a cock tease, you know that?”

“Excuse me?” he mouthed back, his eyebrows crinkling.

“You heard me,” I whispered.

We both looked straight ahead as the professor turned her attention back to the class. We sat in silence as she droned on, then when she turned to the board again, Victor leaned close to my ear and said gruffly, “Well, you’ve got a dirty little mouth, you know that?” His breath on my ear sent shivers down my spine. I was instantly aroused, the blood rushing to my face and between my legs, but I tried to ignore the feeling and straightened my shoulders, trying to be the one in control. “Sorry I left you hanging,” he said, pulling away just as the professor turned toward us to warn against the use of too many adverbs in descriptive prose.

When the professor called on a student with a question, I glanced at Victor, cocked an eyebrow, and whispered, “Don’t be. I had other options.”

Victor cocked an eyebrow back at me. Then, taking some notes of what the professor had written on the board, he said under his breath, “What options were those?”

“None of your business,” I whispered, also taking down notes.

Victor stopped probing and I stopped sharing for the rest of the class. As soon as the class ended, I rose and headed for the door, but Victor grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. I wanted to resist, but my body submitted—as always—to his will and I turned around, an arm’s length away.

Damn it! Why does he always get the best of me?

There was a fluttering feeling inside me as I looked into his dark eyes.

“You’re wearing an interesting outfit today,” Victor said, as he pulled me closer. I glanced around the emptying room. I had an overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him, plant my mouth onto his neck, and make him groan with pleasure. But I didn’t.

“What do you care?” I said, trying to pull away. Victor let me create some space between us, but he didn’t let go of my wrist, which he held firmly by his side. 

“Believe me, I care,” he said, staring at me intently. “And what do you mean you had other options?”

“Are you seriously going to give me the third degree right now?” I demanded, my temper flaring up. “You’re the one who ditched me, remember? God, you’ve got some nerve.” I wriggled my wrist around. “Let me go.”

Victor held on.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice softer. “I’m sorry. But I did say ‘Maybe next time.’ Maybe
this
is next time, angel.” I watched him as his eyes took me in again. Suddenly, with my body on display in my skimpy outfit, I felt naked under his gaze. I could see desire in his eyes and my pulse quickened.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “I’m not an angel.”

I saw Victor’s eyes flash. He hesitated for a moment and glanced around the room. We were the only two left. Then he pulled on my wrist, wrapped my arm around his back and drew me close. He held my hand there, my arm embracing him as we stood chest to chest. I looked up at him, my heart pounding.

“Prove it,” he whispered.

His words thrilled me to the core—it was a challenge and an invitation, and my mind filled with the possibilities. I could push him onto that desk, straddle him, and take him; I could bend over the professor’s desk and let him take me from behind; I could, I could, I could…

But nothing sounded so delicious than answering a challenge with a challenge. And as I looked into his eyes, I realized they were pleading. His words sounded like a challenge, but he was actually asking me—begging me, even—to give him permission to do what we both wanted. His desire was real, but he was giving me the choice, putting me in the position of power. I could walk away from him or show him exactly what I’ve been thinking of doing to him since day one. Suddenly all my frustration gave way to a powerful sense of freedom, and it gave me a rush. I wanted to toy with my power. He had teased me, and now I would tease him.

I raised an eyebrow at him and leaned in a hair closer. “Make me,” I whispered. He smiled, and I felt his grip on my wrist loosen slightly. I wrenched my wrist from his loosened grip and walked toward the open door. I felt potent with power and arousal.

At the door, I stopped, dropped my satchel, and pulled the door closed. I leaned back against the door. He walked up to me and stood millimeters from me, his eyes taking all of me in.

“Make me,” I said again.

Deliberately, he placed his two hands on the door on either side of me. Then, bringing his face close to my ear, he whispered, “All right, angel. But be careful what you wish for.”

He leaned in and I closed my eyes, but instead of kissing me on the mouth, he bit my neck. I held back a moan, biting my lip. One of his hands ran down my body and he pushed his knee between mine, spreading my legs. I took in a sharp breath. As he kissed my neck, I felt his hand travel past my waist, past my hips, and to the hem of my skirt. As his mouth moved up my neck to just below my ear, I felt myself drawing up my leg and wrapping it around his hips. His knee pressed against me where I was already throbbing, aching to feel him inside of me.

He wrapped his other arm tightly around me, pinning me against the door while his fingernails grazed the back of my bare thigh. His hand traveled under my skirt and roamed over the swell of my ass. I bit my lip harder, trying to contain the sounds of arousal that were fighting to escape my lips. Then, with mounting pleasure, I felt his hand slowly working its way across my thigh and between my legs. He applied pressure at the right spot and I gasped out loud, my eyes snapping open. Gently stroking me, he still nibbled and sucked at the sensitive skin of my neck, and I breathed, “Oh, my god…”

He stopped nibbling and looked into my face then, his breath coming out heavy and his eyes hooded over. His hand worked in slow, steady motions between my legs. He watched me as my chest heaved with my breath and I rode the waves of sensations that his hand was building inside me. A tight feeling of need built in the pit of my belly. My panties were wet with my arousal.

Oh, my god, he’s going to make me come. He’s going to watch me come.

“Kiss me,” I found myself saying. I was shocked at my own brazenness. I wanted him to kiss me as he brought me to orgasm. And he complied.

His kiss was hard, needy, brutal—and somewhere in the whirlpool of sensations he evoked, I realized that Friday night had not been the only tease. We had been teasing each other for days, subtly or not. We had been teasing each other in class, over coffee, at the bar, in the car—we had teased each other to the brink, and he was going to push me right over. As we kissed and he held me against the door, I moved my hips, pinning his hand between me and his thigh. I began to grind against him. His free hand gripped my ass as he moved his hips in rhythm with mine. I’d never felt so dirty, so unrestrained, and so alive.

I gripped the back of his head with both hands and pulled away to look into his eyes. He was breathing hard, and I was so close now, grinding hard against his hand and his thigh. The waves of pleasure built almost to the breaking point and I closed my eyes in anticipation. But suddenly, the hardness of the door against my back gave way and we tumbled into the emptiness, Victor’s arm tightening around me.

Somehow I stayed on my feet, bent backwards under Victor’s body as he teetered for a moment and finally righted himself. He moved his hand from between my legs as we looked up simultaneously. The first thing I saw was a mass of auburn hair.

“Mimi?” Victor’s voice was completely and utterly shocked. “What the
fuck
are you doing here?”

I quickly stood up straight and pulled myself away from Victor. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t look at me. In the confusion and my lingering sense of arousal, I felt a pang of pain.

“Oh. My. God! I came here to bring you lunch and you’re dry humping this little girl in a classroom?” Mimi shrieked. Her eyes were wide with horror and she was holding one candy-apple-red-manicured hand over her mouth.

But I didn’t give a shit what she was saying or how horrified she was. At the words “little girl” I saw red, and I was going to put my fucking foot up her ass.

“Look,
lady
,” I growled as I stepped forward with clenched fists. But before I could go any further, Victor swiftly put his arm across my body and pushed me back.

“What the—” I sputtered, but his voice won out over mine, speaking evenly and clearly.

“Mimi, this is not your business. Nothing I do is your business any more. You know that.”

“I came here thinking we could talk about it, Victor!” Mimi shrieked. “Oh my god, now I can’t even look at you!” She covered her eyes with her manicured hand.

Victor turned to me. There was no longer fire and desire in his eyes. “I think you’d better go,” he told me.

Suddenly, I felt weary, small, and humiliated. I looked at Victor, searching his eyes while my face burned with embarrassment and frustration.

He was just stroking my clitoris a second ago and now he’s telling me to leave?

I expected him to say something else—anything else—but he didn’t. He just looked at me, willing me to go. Wordlessly, I threw up my hands and shoved past him and Mimi into the classroom. I grabbed my satchel by the door and made a point of shouldering between them again.

“Have a wonderful fucking reunion, love birds,” I said as I walked away.