A Valentine for Two

by Lia Davis

  Sometimes she tried to imagine what he would do if she just stripped naked and waited for him in his bed. If he’d take her hard, or if he’d tell her no.

  Charlotte clenched around her fingers as she remembered the heat of his disapproving gaze. When she laid her hand on his arm just to touch him because it seemed the gulf between them had grown so wide. She’d brushed her breasts against his forearm as she’d passed him that morning at breakfast, and it had shot jolts of white-hot lust through her.

  She was almost to her peak when it hit her that while he’d looked at her breasts, he’d had no other discernable reaction. She cried out as the culmination was denied her, and she swore quite loudly.

  Her door flew open, the handle embedding itself into the plaster wall with the force behind it. Jace stood with his teeth bared and his .357 in hand, wearing only his boxer briefs. The way they framed his package should’ve been a crime.

  He was so fierce and strong, his frame filling the doorway. His whole body was at the ready and he was poised to defend her with his life.

  Dear God, she would have come right there had her fingers been on her clit.

  She blushed from her toes to the roots of her hair and snatched her hand from between her legs.

  Charlotte didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t be angry he’d barged into her room, he’d thought she was under attack. Her own fault for being so loud. But she couldn’t very well invite him to finish what she’d started.

  Could she?

  His angry gaze raked over her nakedness and she’d never felt so bare in her life.

  He didn’t speak, neither did he lower the gun. All he did was stare.

  She was afraid to breathe, afraid if she moved the spell would be broken and one of them would have to act. Do something. Say something. A strange fear coiled with expectation in her belly.

  As he continued to drink her in, the ache between her legs intensified. She liked his eyes on her.

  Charlotte slowly pulled her elbows back to prop herself up so she could meet his gaze.

  He couldn’t or wouldn’t look at her face.

  So she leaned back and opened her legs wider.

  He fell to his knees at the foot of the bed like a supplicant coming to worship. His breath ghosted in a warm caress over her cleft and the sudden heat of his tongue was better than anything she’d ever felt before. Charlotte cried out his name and thrust her fingers into his hair. He gently, but firmly pushed her hand away when it drifted too close to his face.

  His hands were rough on her skin, though they touched her carefully. Jace cupped her ass to guide her closer to his mouth, to anchor her where he wanted her. As his tongue ravaged her, she writhed and bucked beneath him.

  She was already close to orgasm. It was happening too soon. It was too good. She didn’t want it to end, wasn’t ready for it to end.

  He guided her thighs to rest on his shoulders as he lapped and suckled at her and Charlotte cried out and ground herself against him until she couldn’t fight it any longer and bliss slammed into her.

  Jace released her gently, lowered her back down onto the bed as if she were some breakable thing he shouldn’t have been caught touching and pulled back from her. His lips were still wet with her release.

  He turned away from her. Leaving.

  “Don’t go!”

  He froze, the lines of his back rigid, his scars pale against the rest of his tanned skin. Jace turned back to face her slowly. “What else could you possibly want from me?”

  “Shouldn’t, I mean, don’t you want yours?”

  “Ever polite, aren’t you?” It sounded like an accusation.

  She was at a loss for what to say. “Shouldn’t I be?”

  “No.”

  “What if I want you?” Charlotte quickly realized she had to spell everything out if she intended to get what she wanted. They’d already come this far.

  “Why me?” he demanded, as if he still expected it to be a joke.

  “Why not you? I wanted a one-night stand, and you bean blocked me with Vance. You get to take his place.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She wanted him for himself, but she’d been too afraid of his rejection, of losing what she did have with him to say so.

  He was on her so fast it made her gasp, that and his knee between her thighs. He held her hands over her head and his mouth was only the barest space from her own.

  Oh dear god, yes!

  “If you ever degrade yourself like that again, I’ll throttle you within an inch of your life. Do you understand me?”

  “No. How did I degrade myself?” she whispered against his lips, daring him to do whatever he had in mind.

  “Why are you provoking me?”

  The truth? That she wanted to see how far she could push him until he had his wicked way with her?

  “Don’t play games with me. Tell me what you want and be done.”

  “I want you. I thought that was obvious.”

  She didn’t know Jace Lamont could fly. But as soon as those words were out of her mouth, he’d launched himself into the air in his haste to get away from her.

  “You’ve lost your mind,” he ground out under his breath and slammed the door to her room, then she heard his own door slam.

  She wondered if it would really be pushing him too far to knock and let him know he’d forgotten his gun.

  They weren’t allowed on campus anyway.

  Chapter Two

  Jace

  Jace Lamont’s cock was harder than it had ever been in his life, but he had no concern for that as he paced his room. Only what to do about the woman who’d lost her damn mind.

  Twice he’d had his hand back on the door to go in there and shake some sense into her, but that look in her eyes—it was terrible. It was the same look she used to get when she spoke of heroes and fairytale princes. Like she’d dressed him up in the silk of her delusions and that chafed more than burlap. Truthfully, he preferred the burlap. It was uncomfortable, but it was honest.

  The worst part, it was that she was so far gone, she had no trouble looking at his face.

  Insanity! He couldn’t look at himself, why would she want to? Especially when she could be looking at a guy like Vance. A guy who could give her everything. He was part of her world and Jace, he was an accident.

  He knew her parents cared for him. They paid for him to attend school as much to help him as it was to keep their daughter safe. He couldn’t betray their trust by letting her get caught up with him, even if that’s what she thought she wanted.

  Jace knew he had a darkness inside of him that there was no fixing. All the therapy Emily and Ben had paid for in his youth taught him that. Those long years of abuse had broken something inside of him. It was just as well that his father had thrown that oil on his face so his insides matched his outsides.

  Especially since he knew he should stop thinking about her. About Charlotte. His mouth had gone dry and he licked his lips, tasting her sweetness.

  Fuck all, but why had she tasted so good? He licked his lips again and his eyes closed as he remembered her so wet and hot, her sharp little claws dragging him closer, demanding her

  pleasure.

  Maybe she just needed a good fucking. It was possible. She’d said she wanted a one-night stand and she trusted him to take care of her.

  It was that simple. She needed a man and thought poor white trash would do. Jace wasn’t about to let her ruin her future by messing around with him. Lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Not of the men in her circle would want her after she’d slummed it with him.

  When she’d offered herself to him, it had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to take everything she offered and bury his cock inside of her.

  He had to find someone who deserved her. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her. Then she’d stop tormenting him. As much as he knew he deserved it, he wasn’t sure he could endure it.

  The idea of her with another man caused him physical pain. Anoth
er man’s dirty hands on her perfect skin, another man’s mouth tasting her, giving her pleasure. Another man’s cock inside of her...

  He knew she wasn’t meant for the likes of him. He had to be content with protecting her. Even from herself.

  He needed to find her someone and the obvious answer was Vance Tinsley-Yates.

  It didn’t get much more fairytale than the Brat Prince, if he could be faithful. They’d obviously had a connection tonight at the draw. Why had he opened his mouth? He should’ve let things take their natural course.

  It was none of his business who she slept with, as long as they didn’t hurt her.

  Unwittingly, he tried to imagine them together. The prince’s unmarred mouth on her as his had been, her cries for him and the notes he could wring from her. Her lips on his skin... It burned like nothing had ever before. That was how he knew it was right.

  But for all of his knowing, it didn’t stop the throbbing in his cock. Even thinking of her with the Brat Prince. In fact, it made him harder, thinking of himself as just some voyeur instead of degrading her by imagining his own hands on her. His own ruined mouth. They painted an almost perfect picture—the Brat Prince with his gold skin and gold hair and Charlotte with her skin the color of cream and her hair spread out on the pillow behind her arching up as she had for him.

  He freed his cock and stroked himself, forcing his brain to keep replaying those images. Although the taste of her was still on his lips. Every time he thought of fucking her himself, he stopped in his stroking, only allowing himself pleasure when he imagined her with Vance.

  “Jace?” he heard his voice, small and quiet, through the door.

  Oh, he was so fucking close. He didn’t want to stop yet. A few more rough strokes and he’d be spilling in his hand.

  Then, “Jace?”

  Goddamn, he was going to need an unholy amount of tequila.

  “I, you,” she stuttered as the door creaked open.

  Fuck. He released his cock and tugged on his underwear before he opened the door.

  “For fuck’s sake, what is it?”

  She stood there, eyes wide and soft, lips swollen from where she’d bitten them.

  “You forgot your gun.” Her lashes fluttered against her cheek. “I didn’t think you’d want to be without it.”

  He didn’t want to think of the implications there. He’d left his gun, a very phallic representation of himself, in her room when he’d retreated. But that had been the only option, he consoled himself.

  Jace reached out to take it from her and she put her hand on his. The same one that he’d just had on his cock.

  “Thank you for your service.”

  Service? Did she mean when he’d...?

  She turned her back and he shut the door quickly and it only took a few more strokes for him to spill, but even as he did so, he didn’t go soft because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her taste, her scent, her need— the way she’d said she wanted him.

  I want you.

  “Lie down, you shit,” he growled at his engorged cock.

  He had to talk to Vance. Now. Tonight. Before he forgot where he came from and thought of himself as a man—a man good enough for Charlotte Harcourt.

  Jace pulled on his jeans and went to the elevator and buzzed the penthouse.

  “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Lamont, is that you?”

  “You know it is.”

  “I could be entertaining at this late hour. You saw the paper party and you saw my partner abandon me at your behest. Are you here to fix that for me? Because if not, do fuck off.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, by all means. Come up.”

  The light turned green and the elevator climbed. When the door opened, Vance looked every inch the vintage playboy. He was wearing a silk smoking jacket, and silk pajama pants, holding a crystal glass filled with a deep amber liquid. He downed it, obviously waiting for Jace to speak, but he’d found he’d lost his tongue. He couldn’t force himself to say the words.

  “Well, out with it, bodyguard. Are you here to fight or fuck? By the look on your face it must be one or the other,” the Brat Prince said nonchalantly.

  “Fuck.”

  He choked on his whiskey and spat it out all over the Aubusson carpet. He’d obviously not expected that answer.

  Jace found his voice. “So you don’t swallow?” he asked as casually as Tinsley-Yates had done.

  “You’re a bastard, you know that?” Vance sputtered.

  “Not that I know of, but I am poor white trash, as Pandora enjoys pointing out to me.”

  “I never said that to you, Jace. Don’t paint me with the brush of her sins. I have plenty of my own.” Vance poured another drink.

  Jace studied him for a moment and remembered only moments ago he’d been jerking off thinking about this man fucking Charlotte. His eyes were unwittingly drawn to the smooth planes of his face, the unmarred skin of his neck and arms. The rest of his body honed from long hours at the gym and rugby practice.

  Vance noticed. “You’re eye-fucking me pretty hard. Is that really why you came?” he demanded, his eyes dark with something Jace didn’t understand as he put his glass down.

  “I said as much, didn’t I?” Jace scowled at him and took the look on his face to be revulsion. “Don’t worry, it’s not me I want you to fuck.”

  “Then who?”

  “Charlotte Harcourt. And I don’t just want you to fuck her. I want you to date her.”

  Chapter Three

  Vance

  Date Charlotte Harcourt? That was something he was already into, but where was this coming from?

  “Earlier, you practically threatened to take my head off if I so much as breathed her air. What’s changed?”

  “I was wrong. I overstepped. I’m fixing it.”

  No, Vance was sure it was more than that.

  He’d always been intrigued by Jace Lamont, from the first day he’d seen him. The stories that circled about him were too fantastical to be true. He was some kind of machine. It was whispered that he’d killed his own family for Charlotte. That they’d kidnapped her when she was a child and Jace had saved her.

  And suffered mightily for it.

  They said his scars were from burns in a fire. Some said they were from boiling oil. Others said that he was just born that way, some disease in the womb.

  Vance didn’t much care how he got the scars, he was more concerned with what was going on inside his head. The classes he took, he studied what Charlotte studied. He obviously made the grade. He was more than some dumb, lumbering animal. The way the man had no reactions to the taunts from people like Pandora. The only thing that caused any reaction in him was Charlotte.

  He studied Jace a little more thoroughly. Perhaps he’d been wrong when he said he didn’t care about the scars. He was intrigued by them. Intrigued with the way he wore them like a mask. They were horrible to be sure, but there was a sinister beauty to the way the hard ridges crisscrossed his face and arms, the twisted sinew and ropey muscle. The absolute devastation of flesh. It was grotesque and yet...it was not.

  Jace’s eyes so blatantly roving over him had made him hard. The man had honed himself into a weapon. He imagined fucking him might be like fighting a war.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Vance had been thinking about fucking, not listening to what he was saying. “Well, what?”

  He found himself slammed against the wall.

  “Damn it, Vance. This is important.”

  Vance smiled. A crack in the veneer. He relaxed his shoulders and slid out of his grip and shoved the other man hard against the wall. He braced himself for the return blow which came hard and fast. It caught him in the shoulder, but if he hadn’t moved it would have hit him straight in the solar plexus and left him gasping on the ground.

  He laughed and rabbit punched him. “See, you’d like Rugby.”

  The bodyguard launched himself at Vance an
d they crashed into a table, which crumbled like stale crackers, sending them both careening to the floor.

  ”What the fuck is that, Yates?” Jace rasped in his ear. “You like having your ass kicked?” He referred to Vance’s erection.

  “I’ll admit a little pugilism gets my blood hot.” Vance grinned.

  Lamont’s cock was hard on his thigh. Vance grabbed his hair and yanked it back hard, revealing every nuance of the burned side of his face.

  Jace didn’t pull away, but leaned in closer. “Is that why you weren’t listening to me? Had to have another look?”

  “You were the one eye-fucking me first,” he taunted, their breath mingling as they both struggled for control of their lungs.

  The fight seemed to go out of him then. “You’re right.”

  “Well, that’s no fun. I wanted you to argue with me some more.”

  “You’re a twisted fuck.”

  He couldn’t resist pushing a little farther. “You want to know what it will be like for her, don’t you?”

  “The fuck I do.” But Yates was still on top of him, and they’d stopped fighting, stopped moving.

  He gripped the bodyguard’s shoulder. “Imagine her between us right now.”

  “Fuck you, Yates.”

  “Tinsley-Yates,” he corrected. Jace still hadn’t moved a muscle, except for when his cock jumped at Vance’s words.

  “You’re angry that I’m thinking about her doing such depraved things. But if she’s my girlfriend, she won’t just be imagining them. She’ll do them. And she’ll love it. Remember the way she looked at me when she drew my name from the bowl?” When he got no reaction, he pushed harder. “Have you listened to her at night, all soft sighs and needy little cries in that big room all alone? Do you imagine she needs you for more than your gun?”

  A few more well-chosen words and his mask would shatter. He studied the hard lines of Jace’s face, the rigid set to his jaw—the twisted mouth.

  “Have you thought of my mouth on her? Of her tilting her lips up to me for my kiss? Burns, doesn’t it?”