“I’m taking over.” I squint (no glasses tonight) to read the patch on his vest. Romeo. I hope the story behind his road name is happier than the original.
Romeo doesn’t let go until he’s wrestled Vik inside and Vik’s not only heavy as a bear, but he’s also distinctly uncooperative. He bitches and mutters profanities while Romeo sort of accidentally elbows him in the stomach and then transfers him into my custody when we’re by the side of the couch. I score a head tip and then Romeo hightails it out the door. Smart man.
This is the point at which I run out of plan. My dress is a black-and-white-striped A-line number with a scoop neck. It stops an inch above my knee. I look cute—and all wrong. Black’s the color for funerals, and he doesn’t need cute. Not now.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“Holding you up.” To prove my point, I let go, and Vik promptly face-plants onto the sofa. “Or letting you go. Take your pick.”
He rolls over onto his back, glaring at me. “Did you come here for this?”
This is the monster dick he cups through his jeans.
“I came here for you. You’re more than just—we’re more than just—sex.” I drag my eyes back up to his face, needing him to understand. He looks so sad, and I want so badly to fix that.
“No. We’re not.” He yanks open his jeans and fists himself. He’s hard. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned.
And it’s totally wrong, but I’m turned on. The adrenaline pumping through me from our almost-fight is heating me up in more ways than one. Or maybe it’s because the more I watch him treat his dick like it’s the world’s greatest plaything, the angrier I get. We may have started as a booty call, but we’ve moved on. We’re definitely something more, even if he doesn’t want to hear anything I’ve got to say. On a scale of one to ten, our emotions are running at twenty, but even if he won’t talk to me, maybe I can reach out to him this way. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s my plan. I step closer and lean toward him.
“You’re in my space,” he growls, his hand moving faster. He’s going to come without me, and I refuse to be left behind.
“Goddamned straight I am.”
I slide my hand up his arm and cup the back of his neck. He doesn’t pull away, so that’s a green light, right? Plus, his dick is all but stabbing me in the stomach as he continues to work himself with his palm. New plan. I’ll kiss that angry look right off his face. I yank his face to mine.
He tastes like the whiskey he’s poured down his throat tonight. He tastes like Vik. I kiss him with everything I have until he yanks his head back from mine.
“Leave.” The word comes out hoarse and rasping, like he’s fighting for air. My own breathing sounds like a freight train, a heavy, panting whine. I need him so badly.
“Bedroom,” I snap. “Now.”
He gives me a look I can’t interpret. Anger, need, rage, possibly homicidal intentions. And then he moves so fast I don’t see him coming. He jerks me off my feet, and I’m flying through the air, a completely undignified shriek leaving my mouth. I land hard on Vik’s shoulder with a loud whoosh.
“You don’t get to give me orders,” he snarls. “Not today, not ever. We clear on that?”
“Crystal,” I snap in my best Colonel Jessup imitation, jamming the heels of my hands into the small of his back. Don’t think Vik likes it because he smacks my butt with his palm. We’ve done dirty things together, but spanking isn’t one of them and I don’t think he’s playing tonight. How can this be the same man I’ve held and loved? The laughing man is gone, replaced by a surly-tempered giant with a raging hard-on.
At least the hard-on is familiar. He storms down the hallway to his bedroom, ignoring my attempts to spank his ass and see how he likes it. What happens next is equally familiar. He tosses me onto the bed and shoves his jeans down. Naked, pissed-off Vik is definitely worth looking at. This has to be why I’m not scrambling off the bed and sprinting for the door. The wide-open, not-locked, I-could-totally-leave-through-it door.
“Clothes off,” he says, voice hard. “Or get the hell out. Your choice.”
“Why?” I must have lost my ever-loving mind because now I’m just taunting him.
“Because I want to have sex with you.”
Definitely crystal clear.
“Never mind,” he says, and reaches for me. Arousal mixes with a sudden dose of adrenaline. He’s my Vik, and yet he’s not. He spins me around before I can figure it out and flips up my dress. Hooking a finger in my panties, he tugs them down.
I twist, trying to see his face, but his weight pressing against me on the bed like he’s done so many times before. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, but the wave of heat that tears through me drowns out everything else. I may moan. I’m entirely certain I moan. This isn’t what I planned but if it’s the only way he’ll let me get close, I’ll take it.
He rolls forward, his weight pushing me deeper into the bed. His dick slides between my butt cheeks and I tense. He’s huge, and while so far angry sex is checking all my boxes, other things remain firmly in my no-fly zone. Like butt sex. I make an embarrassing squeaking sound and he laughs.
“I could make you like it.”
He makes the dirtiest, most beautiful promises, but kink isn’t what I want right now.
“Not tonight.”
If I have my way,
