Nemesis

by Skye McDonald

  “Everything okay, sis?”

  I shrugged. “It’s fine. I just hope it’s a quiet Monday.”

  “Me too.” He laughed, and I ruffled his hair and hurried off to work, already looking forward to an empty house later. With Tom and Mads out, I could run a bath, play music as loud as I wanted, walk around naked, and eat takeout in front of the TV.

  The obvious foil to my plans didn’t occur to me.

  I’d gotten so used to the Audi in the drive that I barely saw it anymore, and with Tom’s car gone, my usual spot was available. The shadows were long when I lugged two arms full of groceries through the back door. I staggered through the living room and into the kitchen, only to find Will at the table, sipping a glass of whiskey.

  “What the hell?” I gasped, my adrenaline spiked from the surprise. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  “It’s not dark yet.”

  That snark reply was enough to turn adrenaline to ire with everything else weighing on me. No apology, no offer to help with the bags—no sweetness from Liv. “Bullshit.”

  “I take it our recent bouts of civility are over, huh?”

  “Civility? You mean how we’ve been able to occupy the same space without tearing each other’s hair out? Yeah, it’s been a real love fest, hasn’t it?” I rolled my eyes. “Creep.”

  “Brat,” he whispered into his glass.

  “What was that?” I slammed the coffee canister on the counter so hard the cupboard popped open. I banged it shut. Making noise seemed a good way to get my mood across, but Will didn’t reply. I glared at his easy posture in that damn chair. Leave him alone, Liv.

  Advice I didn’t heed as usual. “Don’t you have anything to do tonight?”

  He reached for the bottle. “Sorry I don’t have a club to hit, a ‘just-a-friend’ to party with, or—”

  “God, what is your fucking problem?” I threw my hands in the air.

  “You are.” His chair scraped the linoleum as he jumped to his feet, all the casual disinterest gone. “You’re acting so rude and self-centered it’s absurd.”

  I had to step back when he loomed over me. At 5’10”, not a lot of people towered over me like Will did. It was more than his 6’3” frame; the man knew how to make his presence felt.

  My voice was strong, though, when I sucked a quick breath and said, “What are you talking about? I am not.”

  “Oh no? You started with me before you were even through the door, didn’t bother to say hello or consider that I just got off work, too. You go through life on a whim, always looking for the easy road. You think you can shoot off any smart-ass remark without regard to how you sound, however inappropriate it is, and everyone will just shrug and say, ‘That’s Liv.’ Stop acting like a child. Just look at you, a grown woman with pink hair. When are you going to wake up?”

  A volcano erupted in my chest. “You better back off before I smack the shit out of you.”

  “See? Even that. All talk. If you want to smack me, don’t talk about it. Do it. You have permission. If you’re bold enough to go through with—”

  Before I realized what I was doing, my palm cracked across his left cheek so hard it stung me. Will’s head snapped to the right, absorbing the blow, the outline of my fingers already visible.

  I trembled with anger and more than a little remorse when his eyes locked back on me. But the train had most definitely left the station, so I squared my shoulders and refused to budge.

  His lips curled into a snarl that turned into a laugh. “Fuck. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Did that make you feel better?”

  “You’re a douchebag.”

  “Not what I asked.” He stepped even closer, but I couldn’t think straight to back up. “I asked if you liked hitting me, if it made you feel better.”

  I lifted my chin. “Damn right I liked it. Been a long time coming.”

  “Then do it again. I dare you.”

  “Why?” I sneered. “Does it get you off?”

  I blinked. In that instant, his face was an inch from mine. His breath warmed my cheek as he said slowly, “You’re goddam right it does.”

  I threw my left hand this time, giving him twin welts on each side of his face. The red marks stood out in stark contrast to the smoldering darkness of his eyes. I shook with rage, hating everything about him, but mostly hating how impotent he could make me feel.

  Will took the blow and then looked me over and snarled that laugh again. “Well done.”

  I scuttled backward. He followed, step by step, until my shoulders met the wall. His hands rested on either side of my face, pinning me. The welts on his cheeks had barely subsided.

  “What’s the fair response to allowing you the pleasure of smacking the shit out of me? How do we make this even?”

  “I guess you can hit me?”

  He scowled. “As if I’d ever hit a woman. Jesus, Liv.”

  “I don’t know then.” I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, stomping my foot in frustration at this mess.

  “Can I touch you?”

  The anger in his tone had ebbed enough to make the question a curious one. Enough to make me freeze. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. The restraint he radiated was so palpable, I imagined straps binding him in place.

  Slowly, I nodded. He reached out. His index finger skimmed my jaw down to my throat. I tipped my chin up, eyelids fluttering against my will.

  “That’s not revenge for a slap, William.”

  “Oh no? Would you like me to be rougher?”

  My pulse thundered as I gazed into his dark brown eyes. He stared right back into mine.

  “Yes.”

  Will’s hand opened around my throat. Those long fingers constricted in a light squeeze. I squealed in surprise and gripped his wrist, and he relaxed again.

  “I can feel your heart racing. What’s the matter? Did you think you were the only one who knew how to play rough?”

  “Who’s playing? You’ve had that coming forever.”

  Will grunted. “Be careful, Olivia.”

  Why did those words send a jolt through my body? Why was there an impossible ache between my legs? Oh hell no. Don’t you dare, girl. I swallowed around his grip and looked into his eyes—

  His eyes, which regarded me with the same intensity, but absolutely no hatred. Panic fluttered up my throat, but it was more a sensation of scrambling for solid ground than worry for my safety. I knew that Will had no intention of hurting me, would never hurt me. The moment the thought came to me, I realized I’d known it for over ten years. That squeeze felt kind of good, though.

  “Will, please,” I whispered.

  “Please what?”

  I just shook my head. He tapped his fingers against my neck in a silent request for an answer. And, dammit, as he did, I itched to touch him.

  “Please,” I repeated, the longing in my voice embarrassingly obvious.

  “Please what, Liv? Let you go? Squeeze again? Don’t hurt you? What are you begging me for?”

  “Don’t hurt me.” I refused to beg for anything else.

  God bless, I could barely see straight, much less think. This whole exchange had kindled a wildfire of fury, frustration, and want inside me that I couldn’t get under control. The want was the worst part, the lighter fluid I hadn’t expected, the element that made me angry at myself, too.

  Since when do you want…

  That dark hair. Those inky, black-brown eyes. His large, warm hand on my throat.

  I drank him in, every inch I could see or feel, and my desire flamed brighter. What is wrong with you? Will Langer detests you, and you have nothing but contempt for him… Right?

  His voice registered through my hazy thoughts: “…can do as you please, but never make it worth anything. I can’t stand to watch someone so completely waste her time. Are you listening?”

  “No,” I spat. “You’re boring the shit out of me.”

  His fingers clamped down
enough to make me gasp. “Am I?”

  “Damn right.”

  He relaxed his hand and drew in a long, shaky breath. “You drive me crazy.”

  “Back at you.”

  The silence stretched. I needed a knockout blow of a burn, something that would make him walk away, but that achy fire inside me was messing with everything. Instead of the clever jab I’d intended, what fell out of my mouth was:

  “I bet your dick is so hard right now.”

  “What do you wager?” Will bared his teeth with a hiss, but the flush on his cheeks suddenly had nothing to do with my attack. He blushed a dark red, his pupils dilated in a look of pure guilt.

  I wet my lips. “Are you?”

  Guilt turned to anguish. “So much it hurts.”

  The room spun. Heat broke like a dam between my legs, but I shook my head. “What the hell are we doing? Why? You can’t possibly think that we’re going to—”

  His hand disappeared as he took a giant step backward. “We’re not ‘going to’ anything, Olivia, don’t worry. You haven’t driven me that insane. Tom would kill me, and I’d hate myself if I—”

  I guess it was my expression that stopped his words, although I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t care. My spine went straight, but everything else inside of me collapsed in queasy humiliation. Ben was engaged, Nick was douche of the year, and now this?

  “Really, Will? You’d hate yourself?” My voice was too soft, too hurt, but I couldn’t fix that.

  He narrowed his eyes and stepped toward me again, but I recoiled. “Not like that,” he said gruffly. “I meant—”

  Two tears spilled down my cheeks. “Good job, asshole. You won. I’m out.”

  Those dark eyes softened in regret when I pushed past him and hit the stairs running. He called to me, first from the kitchen and then again much closer, but I sprinted for my bedroom and swung the door behind me.

  It jumped open with a sharp slap. “Wait.”

  I wheeled to him. “Go away. You won, you hurt me, now leave me alone. I don’t—”

  “God, stop for a second. I didn’t mean—”

  “I heard you, but you did mean it. You meant it and you’re probably right and fuck you get out.” My voice broke, and I scowled. “Go jerk off to the fact that you made me cry. I’m sure that plus a little hand lotion will be enough to—”

  “I said stop it.” He was so close that I paused, my gaze on the carpet in the dim light of the setting sun. I wiped angrily at my face while he said, “As usual, you don’t understand because you don’t care to. You heard what you wanted and—”

  “What I what?” My head snapped up. “You think I want to hear that I’m a basic slut?”

  I blinked at the baritone rumble in his chest, easily one of the angriest sounds I’ve ever heard in my life. Both hands cuffed my neck, thumbs pressed into my chin lift my gaze, but his hold was soft and weirdly reassuring. “Never, ever say that again. I would kill the bastard who thought that of you. Understand?”

  “You’re too close,” I whispered against his face.

  “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he replied in a similar whisper.

  “You’re a little intense.” My lips twitched. “As usual.”

  With a wry twist of his mouth, Will lifted one hand to wipe my tears. The pad of his thumb brushed across my cheek once, then again. “What I meant to say, Olivia, is that I’d hate myself if, after all these years, I… snapped and… I mean, if I couldn’t resist the chance to…” His words tripped, but his gaze didn’t waver from my mouth.

  I swallowed hard, mostly to keep from doing something crazy like moaning or worse, and Will’s arms shook with restraint. His hold slid from my throat to the back of my head.

  “Fuck,” he sighed. “Fuck it all.”

  His whiskey-flavored tongue slid across my lower lip, and I whimpered in a sort of horrified relief. My tongue flicked out to meet his, but the force of our kiss when our lips sealed together was so powerful that I cried out and stumbled back.

  “Shit, wait.”

  “As long as you need.” He nodded, stepping away with his palms up.

  I sucked in one breath. Then, I reached for the crisp fabric of his dress shirt and pulled.

  Will crushed me against his body. His size and strength dwarfed me totally, and I fell into his arms under a wave of irrational desire. Our lips and tongues clashed, unrelenting and hotter than anything I’d ever known. I clung to him so fiercely that my nails cut into my palms, even with his shirt between them, but Will held me so tight, there was no way he was going anywhere.

  We stumbled backward, bouncing off the wall and the dresser before we fell to the bed, clumsy and blind to everything but each other. I hit the mattress on my side, but Will had me on my back in a blink.

  “This is so fucking wrong.” His voice was a deep, dark rumble as he kissed down my neck.

  “Uh-huh.” I whimpered, squeezing his hips with my knees.

  “But, god, I just—” His lips found mine again. I raked my nails over his hair, then pulled so sharply that he hissed and lifted up. His eyes narrowed in a lusty glare. “What are you doing to me, Olivia?”

  My pulse pounded against my ribcage. “Just messing with you, William.”

  “Oh, yeah?” One hand planted by my head to hold him up. Will caressed my face, my shoulder, and down to my hip. My shallow breath was audible in the silence, and he smiled faintly. “Just messing with me, huh? Because you’re the one with your legs around my ankles, keeping me from getting up.”

  His fingers slid across my hipbone, then up the center line of my body. I tensed when he skimmed between my breasts and flattened his palm on my heart.

  “Don’t be silly,” I panted. “I don’t want you.”

  Will closed his eyes a long moment. “Then I should get up.”

  “No way.” I clawed at his neck and brought him down for another kiss. His tongue stroked mine, hips flexed against my core. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I moaned as my head lolled back.

  Will began to kiss down my collarbone between my shirt lapels, his breath warm against my burning skin. “You drive me crazy,” he whispered. “I want you to know how that feels.”

  “What are you going to do to me?” Dear god, I was literally quivering.

  That wicked mischief was back in his expression when he hovered over me again. “I’m going to make you scream till you’re hoarse.”

  I hummed. “You wish you could make me scream.”

  “No, Olivia. I know I can.”

  I yielded to his warm, open mouth as soon as it met mine. While we kissed, Will shifted so that one knee was outside my hips. He palmed my breast and swished his thumb over my bra until I grunted and shuddered. Then, he laughed and reached for my buttons. With every one he popped, long fingers tickled over a little more of my bare skin.

  He got four open before his phone rang.

  The ringtone was shrill in the heady silence, and we both jolted hard. My eyes flew open, but Will was already up on his knees, the device in hand.

  “Langer. I’ve already left the office today. Fine. I’ll be there in twenty. Fine.”

  He climbed off the bed and turned away. “I have to go.”

  “Good,” I croaked.

  “Indeed.” He smoothed his shirt and opened the door. “I… well.”

  But that was all; he was gone.

  I collapsed back on the bed while the burden of his presence slowly faded. “Holy fucking shit,” I said aloud, hand on my heart.

  10

  Liv

  Reasons why I hate Will Langer:

  -He’s an arrogant jerkwad.

  -He thinks I’m a useless brat who does nothing but party.

  -He parks in my spot and drinks my whiskey.

  -He’s a terrible kisser.

  I sighed and scribbled out that last one, then kept scribbling until the page looked like a tumbleweed of silver ink. The pen bounced across my journal and to the floor. I left it there and picked up �
�Rebel,” my favorite shade of MAC lipstick. The deep violet was a perfect match with my getup: an aqua and black tank top with a lace back, shredded jeans, and ankle boots. My hair was flat-ironed so that the dark, shiny crown sharply contrasted with the bright pink bottom. After this week, a little edge seemed apropos.

  The list in my journal had been built over the last several days while I skulked around and avoided him at all costs. Megs had been down to take a break from CrossFit, and I’d taken the plunge and registered for the online training to become a certified daycare instructor. That kept me preoccupied. For his part, Will was pretty scarce around the house.

  Tom asked me to keep Maddie tonight, but I’d had tickets to the Ruston Kelly at The Cannery Ballroom for ages. Luckily, Mom and Dad were happy to give up their Friday, so my guilt at telling him no wasn’t too severe. Not that he ever minded, but I never wanted to let my brother down.

  I rolled my lips with an audible pop and jumped up, ready to weekend.

  Tom was in the kitchen when I went to make a sandwich. He grinned at me and lifted his tea in salute.

  “Wow, bro, looking sexy.” I laughed and looked him over. Tom always rocked a shabby-cute vibe. Tonight, he was sharp in a patterned short-sleeved button-down and chinos, hair combed back from his freshly shaved face. Compared to the scrubs and tees he usually sported, this was a serious upgrade.

  Tom straightened his collar and made a face. “I still clean up okay, huh?”

  “This is the third date in a couple of weeks. Spill some details.” I picked up half the sandwich and leaned against the counter.

  His smile deepened as he studied his glass. “Her name is Erin. She’s a paralegal, an acquaintance of Will. She’s twenty-eight, lives on her own, and,” he shrugged, “I like her.”

  I jumped up and down and squealed. “You’re smitten. Look at how smiley you are!”

  He flipped me off.

  “Tom, are you—oh.”

  We both looked up when Will appeared in the doorway. He eyed me briefly before addressing Tom. “Sorry, I had to take that call.”