“Is there some secret tunnel in the building that I don’t know about?” I asked.
Vic smirked. “No, I just took the stairs,”
Asshole. “If you don’t mind,”—I pushed past him—“I’m going to start cleaning up the mess that is my apartment and my life.”
“Lennox.” Vic reached for my arm. “Please, let me explain.”
I whipped around. “You know what, Vic?” I bit out his name. “I’m really fucking tired of you. You tease me like a cat does a mouse. I really appreciate you handling my ex-boyfriend but, wow, stop pretending that you even remotely care about me, because you couldn’t make it more fucking obvious that you don’t.”
I turned my doorknob, praying it was unlocked. It was. At least some part of the clusterfuck of last night was working in my favor.
Ignoring Vic, I entered my apartment. I walked around it, trying to assess the damage done: a lot. Everything looked broken. Even the bed sheets were torn. I was angry all over again; I was angry and tired and pissed. I was fed up with stupid men and their stupid ways fucking with my life.
I was about to walk into the bathroom when I was shoved against the wall. Hard. I yelped in pain.
“What the fuck are you doing?” My voice came out smushed because Vic had his chest against my back and was pushing me hard against the painted plaster walls. I couldn’t see anything save the ivory-white wall. I desperately needed to paint the place.
“Let me take you on a date,” Vic whispered in my ear. He pushed me flatter against the wall, letting me know how badly he wanted me. “A proper date.”
A part of me jumped excitedly at Vic’s suggestion. Even with the wife situation and the downright disrespect he’d shown me by not telling me, I couldn’t help but crave him. The greater and better part of me, the part that had been shoved against too many walls lately, was not having it.
“Is your wife going to come as well?” I spat out.
Vic flipped me around so that I was facing him directly. We were pressed flat against each other and I could feel his erection against my stomach. We will not surrender, I demanded of my fired-up hormones. I refused to look at him. I refused to submit to his black, hungry gaze.
Vic grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “Just you and me, Lenny.”
I bit my lip, hungering for him yet still furious. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me even closer. His cock was branding my stomach, and I could feel my core betraying me, drenching my thighs. I was turning into Play-Doh beneath his hands.
“Do you want me to show you how much I care for you, Lennox?”
I gulped. He was so close to me now. If he tried anything I was so, totally powerless.
“You own me, Lennox,” Vic said, his voice hard and his gaze unwavering.
“Oh,” I gasped. That was entirely unexpected. Releasing my chin, Vic dove for my neck, sucking and biting until I was holding on to his back for support.
“Do you want this, Lennox?” Vic said, his breath hot against my skin. “Do you want me?”
I nodded, grappling against him. God help me, I wanted him so much. Against every rule I should follow, against any advice I should take, I wanted him. I needed him.
“Say it, babe, say ‘I want you, Vic.’” Vic straightened up, bending his neck down to see my face.
My voice was darker than usual, but I knew exactly what I was saying. “I want you, Vic.”
Vic grinned, that cocky, confident grin that made my thighs become slick and wet. “Goddamn right you do.” He captured my mouth and I groaned into it.
From the brief interludes I’d had with Vic, I knew he loved foreplay. This time, though, I don’t know if I could last through his foreplay. I needed him inside of me. It had been too long with the teasing, sexual tension. Everything had been so fucked lately. I needed something real.
I started pulling at his clothes, trying to send him a message. I tugged hard at his pants, trying to spring forth that big python of a cock I knew he was housing.
Vic stopped my fussing and grabbed my wrists, pinning me against the wall. He planted a punishing kiss against my mouth.
I don’t know if this was wrong. It felt dark and uneven to be doing this in the disaster zone of my apartment. On the very ground Vic was kissing me into oblivion, hours ago Dean had tried to end me. I was starkly aware that Dean was more than missing and Vic had something to do with it. Still, as Vic kissed me and I grappled to hold him, it felt something other than right. It felt . . . precarious, as if we were both walking on a thin wire and we were each other’s counterbalance. If I let go of Vic, I would fall to my death; if Vic let go of me, he would fall to his death. We needed each other equally.
“Lennox,” he murmured, kissing my neck slowly.
Ugh. I must be the luckiest girl in the world to have a man giving me all this foreplay. Not.