ROSIE SHOOK HER HEAD, HER eyes following my every movement. She didn’t need to do anything—I knew what she had to say.
“Shut up about it,” I warned, cleaning the area around the easel and giving her my back while she sat at the dining table and watched me in my painting corner.
She kept staring at me, not touching her soup.
I didn’t regret almost kissing Vicious. For once in my life, I hadn’t played it safe. I wasn’t cautious. I didn’t paint my life in oil colors. I’d reached for acrylic, quick to dry, and settled on it—whatever it was I wanted with him.
“Fine,” Rosie bit out. “But for the record, I warned you.”
She slid a manila envelope across the white dining table. I opened it and stared at the money, ignoring her while counting it. Instead of feeling happy about selling a painting, I was filled with unease.
Was I about to make a huge mistake by messing around with Vicious? Probably. But I couldn’t deny myself what I wanted, and we weren’t kids anymore.
This was happening.
He was going to use me, and I was going to use him back.
It was a mistake of epic proportions, I knew that.
And just like any huge mistake, payback was going to be painful.
Sadly, it was a price I was willing to pay.
The next morning, I arrived early at the office. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted everything to be in perfect order.
For the first time, Vicious’s coffee and breakfast were waiting for him on his desk.
I closeted myself inside my office—two doors down from his—and booked Rosie a plane ticket to San Diego. I wanted her to spend Christmas with our parents. Truly, there was nothing I wanted more than to tag along with her and make it an epic family week, but one last-minute ticket was expensive enough, and I needed to be financially cautious. In any case, I was certain Vicious wouldn’t give me the time off.
Sending Rosie to the other side of the country had nothing to do with her warning last night. Right.
After I sent her a text with the surprise ticket, I sorted through Vicious’s email. I responded to requests from charity organizers, cleaned up the junk and flagged messages from investors that he needed to answer himself. His inbox was so career-focused it was almost sad. There was nothing personal except some banter with Jaime and Trent and a clipped question about the merger from Dean. I wasn’t snooping. It was part of my job description to keep his inbox in order.
It wasn’t a part of my job description to check out his Facebook interactions and read through every single exchange he’d had with a female in the last six months, but I took the liberty of doing that too because…well, because I was just hard-working like that.
I yelped and jumped to my feet when I realized he was standing at my door, staring me down like I was his breakfast.
“Trying to watch porn in the office again?” he said while I blushed. “We have security measures for that. Those websites are blocked.”
I let out a nervous laugh and brushed my hair from my forehead. He looked too good to be so evil. Vicious was in another one of his dark suits, but he’d discarded the jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing muscular forearms peppered with a smattering of that LA sun and those scars that made my heart beat erratically.
The only thing I could think about was how we’d almost kissed last night and how I’d silently cursed Rosie while I fixed her soup for her in the kitchen after I’d had to pull away from him.
I quirked an eyebrow at him and leaned back. “Your IT people are doing a terrible job. I’ve been watching snuff all morning.”
He laughed, and his amusement looked genuine. Rare and brief like cherry blossoms in the spring. But just like the flowers, it died quickly.
“I didn’t peg you for a kink girl, Emilia.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Whatever floats your boat, I’d be happy to be captain.”
“Tacky.” I pretended to gag. “And now I’m ninety-nine percent sure you are a virgin.”
I was teasing him, and I didn’t care anymore. Yes, he was a damaged person, but I now knew there might be reasons for that. No, I wouldn’t ever forgive him for what he’d done to me. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some fun with him until I dug out of my financial mess. Might as well take him up on every single thing he offered while I could. Because that’s essentially what we were doing. Using one another.
Vicious’s eyes licked my body head to toe, slow and taunting, then landed on my face. “Have your ass in my office in ten minutes. We need to tie up a few loose ends with the merger.”
With that, he left, closing the door behind him. I didn’t have time to catch my breath before my phone rang. I answered it with a grin.
“Please tell me you’re coming with me!” Rosie exclaimed. I was glad she was feeling better, and even happier that she was so excited about seeing our parents again.
“Sorry, Little Rose. I have a ton of work and besides, I’ve wanted the new apartment to myself ever since I walked in. I’m going to put Panic! At The Disco on full blast, dance naked, eat pizza, and paint while you’re gone.” Despite a pang of sadness at not being there with my family, this actually sounded like a great idea. It would certainly top our last two Christmases, one of which ended up with me giving Rosie a half-empty bottle of perfume, though she pretended it was brand new.
“I’m not going anywhere without you, you crazy ho. Not on Christmas.”
“Rosie…” I sighed, pushing my office chair back from my desk and standing up.
I spent the next ten minutes in the bathroom, multi-tasking, trying to convince her and brushing my hair with my fingers, trying to look good. “You’re being ridiculous. I just saw Mama and Daddy. It’s been two years since you’ve seen them. Please.”
“Come with me,” she insisted again.
“I want to save some money.”
“You make a fortune!”
“Now, maybe, but who knows what’ll happen in a month or two?”
Silence fell. She knew I was right. I was still looking for another job, knowing this one was only temporary. Vicious said so himself. He didn’t even live in New York year round.
I gave her the final push. “Seriously, do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve had a place all to myself? I’ll actually hold it against you forever if you waste the ticket. It’s non-refundable. I don’t need to see your sorry face all through Christmas anyway. Go.”
“I love you,” she said with a sad chuckle.
“Right back at ya, sister.” I smiled. “Now go pack. You have a flight to catch in a few hours.”
“Okay, but did you tell Mama about Rat? I thought I’d mention I’m adopting a pet snake with him.”
“Rat?” I scrunched my nose.
“My biker boyfriend!”
I laughed. “Oh yeah, she knows you’re seeing him. Said she’d love to meet him sometime soon, and that there’s vermin in the Spencers’ attic anyway, so the snake will feel right at home.”
On my way to Vicious’s office, I desperately tried to regulate my heartbeats. What was I doing, wanting to have a fling with the man who’d ruined my life? It was inexcusable. But I wanted him, and I was tired of depriving myself of what I wanted.
I knocked on his door, as was expected of me, and rubbed my hands over my thighs, throwing a glance at the glass reception desk at Patty, who sent me a warm smile. I smiled back.
“Come in,” Vicious growled. He was standing behind his own glass desk, his palms flat against it.
“About the merger?” I clutched my iPad to my chest. I felt pretty proud about being able to form coherent sentences, considering my physical reaction to him. “You wanted to go through a few things?”
“Turn around and face the door,” he ordered, completely ignoring my question. He was still reading something on his laptop screen.
I frowned. “Excuse me? Why?”
“Because I’m your boss and I tell you what the fuck to do.” He lifted his head from the screen, his gaze piercing the thin layer of faux-confidence I wore.
His face was expressionless, but his hooded eyes gleamed. The way he looked at me, with his dark-blue irises undressing me item by item, made me want to throw myself at him, like all the other shameless girls from high school. Slowly, I spun and looked at the door, my heart galloping, filling my ears with violent thuds. I was just glad that, unlike the rest of the offices down the hall, his had only a single glass wall. The door in the center was made of solid black wood.
“Is this about last night?” I asked.
“No.”
I felt each and every one of his footsteps, shaking my core from the inside. My womb clenched, and a hot wave of lust crashed against my pelvis. In seconds, his body was flush against mine from behind, and it was warmer than I remembered. Larger. Even more intoxicating than when he was eighteen. His lips found the sensitive spot on my neck, brushing—not kissing—teasing me with the promise of something more.
“It’s about you being a liar when you were seventeen. And it’s about you still being a liar when you’re twenty-seven. You fucked one of my best friends when, really, you wanted to fuck me. It’s time to make amends, Miss LeBlanc.”
He snaked his arm around my shoulder, cupping my cheek and dragging my head back to meet his chest. His lips found my temple, and they smelled of coffee, lust, and him.
“I’m done playing kiddie games with you,” he rasped, his voice so low—too low—and I felt his hot mouth moving on my skin. “We’re both at the same place now, both single and hot for each other. This is happening. We’re fucking. Say yes.”
“Vicious…” I started, but then he pulled my hair gently, extending my neck and reaching his free hand to pull my waist, my butt hitting his thick, throbbing erection. My rear was pressed against his groin, and I felt how much he wanted me.
My need for him was just as strong. A warm, heady feeling made my thighs quiver and clench. I wanted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit I’d convinced myself was poisonous. He gave me pain, but ironically, this pain gave me life.
“Say. Yes,” he repeated.
I needed to say no but wanted to say yes, so I settled for a little voiceless nod.
“Good girl,” he breathed. “I knew you’d come around as long as you didn’t have to look me in the eye when you admitted it.”
He spun me around, and before I could say something—anything—his mouth attacked mine. Every doubt I’d had evaporated. His tongue parted my lips, this time demanding, not asking, and I remembered how I hadn’t allowed that to happen the first time we’d kissed. Now there was no barrier. There was no Dean. No HotHoles and no Todos Santos. Just the two hungry, savage adults who wanted to rip each other to shreds.
I wanted to dissolve into smoke, to crawl into him and never leave. It was crazy, but that was how much I craved this man.
His mouth was hot, his kiss ravenous and rough. Like he was trying to erase every trace of every other man who’d ever tasted me—an erratic rhythm that made my heart skip several beats. I was so aroused I thought I was going to die right there in his arms if he didn’t peel my clothes off. But I couldn’t ask him for it. For one thing, it was nine in the morning and the floor was packed with colleagues. When he grabbed me by my butt and raised my body so my legs wrapped around his waist, I knew we were seconds from doing something very unprofessional against his office door.
“People might see us,” I moaned into his lips.
“And?” His teeth captured my lower lip gently and pulled it into his mouth. He sucked on it hard. His eyes were hooded with something other than boredom.
The fact that it was me who made him this way made my heart flutter.
“And it’s grossly unprofessional,” I said, voicing my thoughts, but I didn’t pull away.
He was right. We’d wanted each other all along in high school. I’d been foolish to try and translate my emotions for him into something with one of his best friends, and he’d been hateful to chase me away instead of claiming me the way he should’ve.
It was obvious we had no future. Too many terrible things had happened between us. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy the present until he was done with his revenge and went back to his life in LA.
“Emilia.” His baritone rumbled in my ear. He didn’t call me Millie, but at least he’d stopped calling me Help. “I don’t give a fuck who sees us, and it’s probably better if they know not to fuck around with what belongs to me.”
“What about the company rules you warned Floyd about?”
“Fuck the rules. I own the company.”
Despite his words and his touch, I managed to place my palms on his chest and push him away. My lips throbbed with our searing kiss, and I felt the thump of my pulse at my temple.
“We can’t do this here,” I argued, trying to convince both him and myself.
He didn’t look too fazed, but walked to his desk and grabbed his keys and phone. He pressed his finger to his intercom, his gaze still on me.
“Receptionist,” he barked. “Cancel all my shit for today. You’ve got access to Miss LeBlanc’s computer. My schedule’s in there.”
“Is everything okay?” I heard Patty’s soft, feminine voice from the other end of the line.
“I’m taking a sick day, and my PA needs to tend to me.”
He hung up and stacked his folders into a neat pile, ignoring me again. I knew exactly what it meant, and my heart raced wildly in my chest.
Tapping my chin, I said, “Sick, huh?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even look up. “I’m fucking sick of not being inside you, where I should’ve been a long time ago. Now let’s go.”
It felt like the walk of shame as we made the long trip from his office to the elevator, with him clasping my elbow possessively, like a guard escorting me from the premises. Everybody was looking at us. And I do mean everybody. Eyeing us through the glass walls of their offices, peeking from the kitchen area and stealing glances from behind the reception space.
I didn’t care as much as I probably should have. This wasn’t a legitimate job, and Vicious wasn’t a legitimate boss. It was an arrangement that was going to be over soon, so I had to grab whatever I could before my time was up.
As we both stepped into the elevator, another suited employee tried to join us.
“Leave,” Vicious said simply, and the man walked out of the elevator without even a flinch.
My mouth fell open, and Vicious punched the button that closed the door and slammed my body against the silver wall.
“Now, where were we?”
I was praying no one else would witness the fact that Vicious was a few seconds from screwing the life out of me, but that hope was futile. By the time the elevator pinged open and we stumbled out to the busy lobby of the building, my lip was cut from one of our wild kisses. I was bleeding. To be fair, I’d bitten him first, but I was teasing him. He, on the other hand, was…insane was the accurate word.
Our hurried steps carried us toward the exit, and I knew our apartments were only a short ten-minute walk away, but it felt weird to make this journey on foot while we were so flustered and hot for one another. My panties were so soaked I hoped people weren’t able to see it through my Christmas-themed leggings. Luckily, they were made out of a thick fabric.
Vicious continued to guide me by my elbow, which should’ve felt gallant and flattering, but I had zero illusions about what this was. I knew him well enough, despite all these years, to know romance was simply not on the menu for him. He was as emotionally available as a jackhammer. This was pure lust, exploding after a decade of simmering quietly, brewed by frustration, jealousy, and hate.
Once we walked through the revolving door, rushing down the street through the December chill and the crowds of Christmas shoppers, I started laughing. We were walking so fast that our butts might as well have been on fire.
“Do I wanna know what’s funny?” His face looked strained, and I bit down another chuckle.
I shouldn’t have laughed. I had blood on my lower lip, and he was sporting a visible erection. But he looked so serious. Like he was ushering me to the ER, and not to his bed.
“Just the way we’re acting, like two high schoolers who just found out one of them has an empty house,” I said, fighting another burst of giggles.
He squeezed my elbow, and we cut the corner, almost jogging.
My laughing stopped when we walked through the glass doors to the skyscraper where we lived. Vicious punched the elevator button three times in a row and started pacing, waiting for it to ping open. He ran his hand through his inky black hair.
“Rosie’s home,” I said, swallowing hard.
He turned around to look at me, and I swear it looked like his erection was going to break through his zipper, or his zipper was going to break his erection. Either way, it was going to hurt.
“We’ll go up to the penthouse,” he said, shoving a hand deeper into his tousled hair and tugging impatiently.
“She could bump into us in the elevator. Or the hallway. Or…”
Truly, I didn’t care about Rosie catching us. I was a grown-up, and besides, we’d both brought men over to our old studio on occasion. When it happened, the other sister would make herself scarce. Nope. I was clearly stalling, and I didn’t know why.
“Fine. We’ll grab a taxi. The Mandarin isn’t that far. It’s a long shot this time of the year, but they might have a room or two available. If not, there’s always the bathroom at Starbucks.” He turned around and started stalking toward the entrance.
I grabbed his hand and stopped him, and our eyes met. “Really, Vicious? After ten years of waiting, that’s how you want to do this? In a hotel, in the middle of the morning?”
“Fuck.” His jaw ticked and he exhaled, closing his eyes. “What did you think was gonna happen when we ditched work? That we would catch a Jennifer Lawrence movie under the fucking covers?”
He looked so on edge I thought he was going to detonate on the marble floor. I flattened my palm against the collar of his dress shirt, and that seemed to soothe him a little.
“I bought Rosie a plane ticket to fly home to see our parents. She’s supposed to pick up her meds around six then go to the airport straight from there. We can still go back to the office and come back here after she’s gone.”
“Fuck no,” he almost spat. “We’re spending today alone.”
When he didn’t move, just stared at me like he was going to take me on the floor, I tangled my fingers together, twisting them. “I could show you New York.”
“What?” His brows furrowed.
“Show you New York. Show you where I like to go, where I like to eat. Show you why it’s so much better than LA, why Frank Sinatra and Woody Allen and Scorsese rhapsodize about this crazy place with this crazy weather like it’s paradise.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t do monogamy.” He tsked like I had asked him if he could part the sea. “And that sounds a lot like a date.”
“It’s not,” I protested, feeling my face heat. “Also, I vividly remember you asking me to go to dinner with you yesterday. What’s changed?”
“That wasn’t a date. I was just really fucking hungry.”
“Well, what makes you think I’d like to date someone as hateful and cold as you anyway?” I tilted my head like a bird, my eyes blazing with heat.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. And I don’t do dates,” he said again, taking a step back and shaking his head. His cheeks flushed pink, and this time it wasn’t only from the cold.
Sweet Jesus and his holy crew.
At this point, I’d had enough of this nonsense, so I decided to kill the conversation. “Really?” I snorted.
“Really,” he enunciated.
“So if I tell you I want to re-do our senior year in one day…to go ice-skating at Rockefeller Center and let you get to second base like two teenagers…” I erased the gap between us, kissing a sliver of his exposed neck, and his breath stilled. “And go eat at P.J. Clarke’s and move to third base in the bathroom…” I rasped the words against his hot flesh and dragged my eyes up to meet his stormy ones. “And end the day at a Broadway show where I’d do something very inappropriate under your seat…” We melted into each other, and sure enough, I felt the swelling in his slacks getting bigger against my stomach. “You’d say…no?”
His face was the funniest thing on earth as it moved from surprised to eager, then finally to turned on.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing his hard cock against me. From the outside, it must’ve looked like we were sharing the dirtiest hug ever. “I’m about to go ice-skating for a hand job, and I’m not even sixteen anymore.”
“You’re totally going on a day date,” I joked.
He rolled his eyes but followed me back outside and into the nearest subway station, buttoning his pea coat to cover the massive bulge between his legs. “Lead the way.”
Despite my teasing, I didn’t really plan to take him ice-skating. But I wasn’t going to tell him that just yet. I actually enjoyed watching him sitting opposite me on the subway. Jaw grinding. Brows creased. Eyes locked on mine. We were oblivious to the noise around us—the damp, stinky coats brushing against us, the Kindles, paperbacks, and takeout bags that smelled like Asian food and were nudged into our ribs. It was just us.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent the day having fun in the city without thinking about picking up more shifts or running errands.
I also couldn’t remember the last time I spent the day with a man who made my knees weak, my breath erratic, and my heart feel like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
“This means nothing,” he said from across my seat, twisting my own words from yesterday when I let him into my apartment.
“I’m asking you to ice-skate with me, not trying to melt the ice around your cold, cold heart,” I retorted in the same way he’d responded to me less than twenty-four hours ago.
He cracked a rare smile. “Where are we really going? This isn’t the way to Rockefeller Center.”
“Always so perceptive, Mr. Spencer.” I got up and held on to one of the poles when we reached 77th Street station. He followed me. “We’re going to the Met.”
At the Met, there was a special exhibition about human anatomy, of all subjects. It was extra realistic and gory, too. When we waited in line to get the tickets, I told Vicious I’d almost fainted when I saw a real-live mummy the first time I’d visited the museum. He laughed and said that he once went to the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia on a school trip and threw up when he saw some of the remains of Einstein’s brain.
“Can’t blame you. There are some things better left to the imagination…though I can’t see myself ever wanting to picture that either.” I scrunched my nose as we entered the exhibit.
I choked the little booklet I was holding to release some of the tension from my body. We stopped next to a picture of a real heart, sitting on a white cube. It was bloody and looked fresh, like it was still beating not long ago.
I saw the art in it.
Heck, I wanted to run back home and paint it.
“I was thirteen and all kinds of messed up. The brain just always seemed to me like the most important, intimate part of the human body. Maybe because that’s what was left of my mother after her accident. She was paralyzed from the neck down, but completely lucid. Still herself.”
I didn’t utter a word because it felt important to let him speak. We were both staring at the picture when he added, “I like the way you stare reality in the eye without looking away. You’re not a coward, Emilia.”
I nodded. “Neither are you. I mean, you’re crazy, but brave.”
We walked a few feet to our right, checking out the next piece. Time moved quickly, too quickly. Four hours into our day at the museum, and I was starving, so I suggested that we go get something to eat. Vicious nodded in agreement. I was surprised we’d gotten this far without him complaining about us being here so long. We walked toward the exit, but then he grabbed me by the collar of my coat and shoved me into a corner behind a wall leading to the bathroom. It was quiet and secluded. Just another dead weekday before Christmas.
His lips found mine quickly as he muttered, “Where’s that second base you promised me?”
I linked my fingers around his neck and waited for him to make a move.
I was a good girl.
He was a bad boy.
He knew what to do.
Vicious pressed his lips to mine, kissing me slow and long—teasing this time—before moving away and watching me through narrowed predator eyes.
“Refreshing,” he croaked.
I nodded. A good long kiss was better than quick casual sex. He ducked his head down again for another one, deepening our kiss, and sucked on my tongue hungrily, cupping my ass with one hand firmly, and brushing my throat with his thumb with the other softly.
“Did you think about this often? Kissing me like that?” My voice was husky. I felt him nodding even though my eyes were closed. The electricity between us was tantalizing. My body begged for more of him and chased his touch, desperate to be closer.
My obsession. My muse. My enemy.
“All the fucking time, Emilia. I wanted to squeeze this ass…” He clutched my butt, pulling me to grind into his erection, his lips hunting mine with leisurely, playful kisses that both intoxicated and soothed me. “To feel these tits…” His callused thumb dragged from my neck to my collarbone and before I knew it, he kneaded my right breast through my clothes while sucking on my jaw. “To kiss these goddamned fucking lips that smiled for him.” He kissed me over and over again.
It broke me.
It revived me.
It ruined me.
I didn’t even address the subject of Dean because my ex-boyfriend seemed to have moved on just fine. After I bumped into Vicious, I’d peeked at Dean’s Facebook, my curiosity and guilt getting the better of me. I saw that he was happy, content and, unsurprisingly, a manwhore. It made me feel better, somehow. That I no longer occupied his mind.
Unlike Vicious. I was there in his head. I was there and he hated it. That’s why we were kissing right now. Because he kept telling me he hated me, but I, I didn’t believe him. Not now, anyway.
“Then why were you so hateful?” I wasn’t sure if I was mad or smitten with him. My mind zigzagged in confusion every time he was around.
His hard-on was still digging into my “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” leggings when he lowered his kisses to my breasts, ignoring me, pushing my sweater down and sucking on my nipples through my bra. I felt him pulsing next to my inner thigh, and I wanted every inch of him to fill me. Craved it. But Vicious’s expression grew serious.
“Emilia…” he warned.
“No, tell me. How the heck does it matter anymore? You got what you wanted. I left. So why don’t you put me out of my misery?”
He sighed, pulling away and boxing me in with his body, his arms on either side of me trapping me against the wall. His eyes were on the floor. “I was scarred from head to fucking toe. Physically marred. Mentally disfigured. The beatings I took from Daryl Ryler ruined me. I couldn’t take my shirt off when everyone went to the beach. I couldn’t fuck girls with the lights on. I couldn’t breathe without thinking about what a monster I was underneath my clothes, underneath my flesh. And then, there you were. Pure and scar-free, with your big kind eyes and honest smile. You were so clean, and I was filthy. I guess I wanted to dirty you up.
“Then there was the Ryler shit. I thought you’d figured out what he’d done to me. I was afraid that you were going to tell people. I couldn’t risk that, so I scared you. Then I drove you away. I’m fucked up, Emilia. I know that. I’m not asking you to fix me. It is what it is. We’ll fuck. We’ll use each other. Until one of us finds someone else they prefer.”
He wanted casual. That was fine.
He was light in a dark fog. But I knew better than everyone how bad the gorgeous dancing flames in him could burn. If I treated it as a fling, my heart would be guarded away. His too.
“Have you ever dated anyone seriously?” I practically sighed the question.
We were cooling off. His body became tense and his posture straight. We swiveled toward the exit doors and resumed our journey to the subway. I followed. To say that I was content with his explanation was a lie, but it calmed me down. A little, anyway.
“Never,” he said, emotionless. “Have you? Other than—”
“Two serious boyfriends here in New York.” I nodded, cutting into his words before he could say his name. Dean hurt him, like Vicious hurt me. I got it now.
“Mmm,” was all he said. We slipped into the subway station and were lucky enough to catch a train that had just pulled to a stop. It was packed, but I had a feeling it wasn’t the only reason he pinned me to one of the yellow walls with his whole body so that nobody else would touch me.
“Were you in love with either of them?” His lips were dancing against mine.
I shrugged. “How do you really know for sure? They were very nice.”
“I see. Nice.”
That’s all his lawyer-self needed to say to rest his case. His cocky smile stayed in place the whole train ride.
Bastard.
We made a stop by Rockefeller Plaza. I told him I wanted to see the tree and watch people ice-skate. Truth was, all I wanted was to push him a little more. Poke at his patience. See how far he was willing to go. Turns out, it was pretty darn far. Further than I’ve ever known him to go for a girl. That, in itself, stroked my ego in places that made me shiver with pleasure.
Our next stop was Thin Crushed Ice in the East Village. I’d never been to this bar before, but I always passed by it when I went to The Paint Store for painting supplies and wondered what it was like inside. So, technically, it wasn’t a favorite place of mine, but I had a feeling it was going to become one. It looked sexy and dark, with a phone booth for an entrance, leading to an open bar with exposed bricked walls, taxidermy wearing sunglasses and ties, and wooden ceilings that made it look like we were somewhere far away from New York. The place was full of hipsters despite it only being a little after six p.m. on a weekday.
Vicious slid into one of the black leather sofas inside a booth, and when I went to sit across from him, he shook his head like I was a rookie and patted the space beside him. I slid next to him, and he hooked his arm over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to smell him—really take him in—enjoying the quiet moment of having him for myself.
When I opened my eyes, he reminded me once again that this wasn’t a date.
“Drink.” He threw the cocktail menu in my general direction, grabbing his phone and checking his emails. “But not enough so that I won’t be able to fuck you on the grounds of you being too shitfaced.”
Most girls would have walked away just then. But I knew Vicious had to make up for being vulnerable at The Met, when he admitted to feeling weak. When he admitted defeat.
“With that kind of attitude, sober me wouldn’t give you the time of the day either.” I checked out the food menu and, naturally, craved every single dish. My mouth watered even though I hardly knew what half the items were. They sounded sophisticated. A mix of Asian and Mediterranean. I didn’t care what they meant, I just wanted them all in my belly.
When I lifted my head from the menu to ask him what he wanted, I found him looking at me oddly again. He’s been doing that throughout our time at the museum, but I hadn’t wanted to ruin our fun day out and ask why then.
“What?” I finally asked.
“Third base is oral, right?”
I rolled my eyes. Just when I was about to answer, the waitress approached our table. She was the mother of all hipsters, with hair like mine and enough facial piercings to pass as a human sieve. She opened her mouth to greet us, but Vicious cut her off.
“Everything.” He threw the menus her way, looking back at me, but still talking to her. “Just bring everything. Cocktails. Food. Whatever. Everything. Now go.”
My instinctive response was to get up and leave before anyone concluded that I was down with this kind of rude behavior. I was wiggling my butt toward the edge of my seat when he jerked me into his body, hard.
“What the heck?” I scowled at him.
“You never answered me.” He looked down at me, businesslike. “What does third base include? Stretching your pussy with my tongue and getting my dick sucked?”
Good. Lord.
I couldn’t believe I used to have a serious crush on this man. And I definitely couldn’t believe I’d worried about sleeping with him without having my heart broken. This was going to be easy.
“Vic,” I gritted. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what third base is.”
“I prefer football terminology, seeing as I’m more familiar with the game. Which is why I know I’m definitely going to score tonight.”
“Smooth.” My face remained unsmiling.
“And thick,” he added. “With a slight tilt to the right.”
I was about to get up again, but then the waitress approached us with about ten glasses on her tray. Instead of leaving, I tossed down two cocktails like they were shots and swiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I wasn’t exactly keeping it classy, but then my boss was probing me about oral sex. Lines were being blurred, and they were becoming blurrier with every ounce of alcohol entering my blood stream.
Vicious took a sip of a beer. Slowly. Completely in control. The hunter was always more calculated and in charge. And then there was me, flailing around like the helpless prey.
“Why have you never pursued a career as a painter?” he asked.
It sounded more like an accusation than a question. Some of the food he ordered had arrived, and I picked at it with my fork, trying a little of everything.
“I have, and I’ve worked with other artists too. Interned at a gallery here in Manhattan after I graduated. Then Rosie moved in and got sick, so she couldn’t hold on to a steady part-time job. Why did you become a lawyer?”
“I like arguing with people.”
I laughed at that. I had to agree. “But you chose mergers and acquisitions, hardly a fast-paced, dramatic way to practice that skill,” I argued.
He picked an olive and brought it to my lips. “Open,” he said darkly.
I did.
“Now swallow.”
I smiled with the olive between my teeth, daring him. He dipped down and kissed me hard, shoving the olive into my mouth with his tongue. It was either choke or swallow. I chose swallow.
He pulled back from me, but his gaze remained on my lips. “Now that’s good practice. As for law, I have no desire to cover up for other people’s fuck-ups. I’d much rather see how my clients double and triple their investments…and mine. People don’t pay me because of my law-school pedigree. I went to a shit college in LA and graduated with people who went to work doing house closings and chasing ambulances. People pay me to make money, and I make a ton of it.”
“What’s your fascination with money? You have so much.”
He leaned forward, picking up a lock of my lavender hair. “Money is like pussy, sweetheart. You can’t ever get enough.”
“Yeah, and it’s made you so happy. You realize you sound like a walking, talking cliché?”
His eyes sparked with something devilish. “I am happy. I’ve never been happier. It’s seven o’clock, so Rosie should be long gone by now. Let’s go before I take you up on that offer about third base right here on the table.”
“I have one more place I want to stop first,” I said.
“Fucking Christ,” he gritted. “How about you keep your side of the deal, Miss LeBlanc?”
“I will. Eventually. Patience is a virtue.”
“Patience can go fuck itself. Wherever we’re stopping, it better be comfortable, because I’m tasting you there.”
