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.