He comes stomping down the stairs with a crooked smile on his face. "Okay, so the rugrats are in bed."
“You were supposed to brush her teeth,” I remind him with a laugh.
“Shit!” He crinkles his nose as he plops down onto the squeaky pull-out sofa right next to me and spreads his legs wide. I shiver when our knees touch. "So, where were we?” He throws an arm around the back of the cushions. “You came here to beg and grovel for my forgiveness?" I flush with embarrassment and he smirks.
His tone tells me that he's only joking. Still, I wince. “I’m really sorry for the way I've been toward you, Clinton.” My voice is small and ashamed.
“Well, you’re gonna have to stop jumping to nasty conclusions about me.” He has every right to be angry but instead, all I see in his expression is amusement.
That just only makes me feel worse about myself. God, he actually is a good guy.
“And thanks for coming to the rescue yesterday…You saved me from myself when I was being a babbling, anesthetized fool.” Add that to the list of ways I’ve been less than charming. He's seen the not-so-flattering parts of me and he still seems to want me around.
He drops his head back against the pillow behind him. “Yesterday, you were a bit of a hot mess.” He chuckles deep in his chest. “Highly entertaining. But still a hot mess.”
Biting on the corner of my mouth, I dare to ask, “What exactly did I do while I was a ‘hot mess’?”
“Well, for one, you tried to head-butt me,” he deadpans.
“Oh god.” I slap a hand over my mouth and mutter through my fingers. “For the record, that’s completely out of character for me. I don’t think I’ve ever head-butted anyone before.”
“Makes me feel special, then.” He reaches across and plays with a lock of my hair.
Because I'm all grace and sophistication tonight, I snort through my nose. “What else did I do?”
“At one point, you went on this long diatribe about Japanese hot spoon massages and anti-aging creams…”
Hunching forward, I bury my face in my knees and groan.
“You were completely uncensored. I enjoyed seeing you let loose.” I feel his hand on my shoulder, massaging the tense muscles. "Don't feel bad about it, Vivian. You're human. You're allowed to be less than perfect every now and then. You're allowed to have weak moments."
My chest tightens in disagreement. Flaws aren't things you accept. They're things that you work tirelessly to correct. So that you can achieve perfection. At least that’s how I’ve always looked at it. The notion of just resigning to one's flawed nature is totally alien to me.
“Why did you save me?” I ask. “You could have just left me there at the dentist’s office to fend for myself. You would have had every right to. I’ve been mean to you.”
He twists my hair around his finger. “Because that was the first time your armor slipped away. I got to see the real you. Without your defenses up, I got to see that you’re just a woman. Afraid, lonely, trying to keep your world from falling apart. I could relate to that.” He corrects himself quickly. “Not the being-a-woman part. The other part.”
Laughing, I lift my head and look at him. “I think I’ve got it all figured out, but I’m really just a mess, huh?”
He throws a cursory glance at my boobs. “Well, you’ve got nice tits so at least you’ve got that going for you!”
I slap him on the shoulder. “I’m serious, Clinton. I’ve been so harsh and so unkind and so judgmental. I’m embarrassed. And I’m sorry.” A tear streaks down my face and my fingers rush across my cheek to wipe it away.
He grabs my trembling hand and kisses my knuckles. “Hey, no need to cry. I had my notions about you, too. Not all of them were nice…From here on out, just be nice. Let's just be nice to each other. Okay?"
"I can do that," I say with a smile. "Thank you for being there in my moment of weakness," I tell him. "I'm glad I didn't have to go through it alone."
He cradles my hand in his and our fingers get all tied up together. "You feel alone a lot of the time, don't you?" He looks at me and it's like he can see right through me, all the way to my darkest places.
My gut instinct is to lie. To pretend that I'm not scared of how much I don't have it all figured out. I should throw up my walls, hide behind my defenses. But I don't want to. I want him to see me. I want him to see that I’m afraid, that I've been broken. I want to let him in. Maybe I'm still high off of those drugs they pumped into my system yesterday. Maybe I'm just tired of hiding behind the veneer of perfection. I'm ready to show my faults. “Yes…” I admit. “A lot of the time, I feel alone.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip and he stares at me. "I just find it so hard to believe that you don't have some guy following you around, sniffing at your feet, begging you for a little attention."
I look down at our hands intertwined together, at the tattoos coloring his knuckles and the soft pink lacquer on my fingernails. My stomach tightens. Why does this feel so right? “I was with this guy a long time ago. We were planning to get married. It didn’t work out.”
He hikes a brow. The dark shadows of the dim room enhance the sharpness of his nose and cheekbones, making him dangerously beautiful. “Talk to me. Tell me why it didn’t work out.”
“He was running around behind my back. With some girl he met when he went away to school. They’re married now and she carries his balls around in her purse.” Clinton lets go of his grave expression just long enough to laugh. “They come into the shop every now and then to order lukewarm bottled water.” I feel a sense of relief flooding my chest. I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding onto that piece of information. Now, that it’s been chiseled from of my heart, I feel a little bit lighter, looser.
Clinton's eyebrows furrow harshly. “Seems like that decision worked out really well for him.”
A bitter laugh comes out of my mouth. “Seems like it.”
He kisses the back of my hand again. “What a dipshit.”
“I wasted so much time waiting for him. We were together in high school and then I waited for him while he was in college. But when he came home, he’d made different plans. With a different woman. And there I was, broken, afraid, alone. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with…And he left me…” I hate how weak I sound. I hate the pity in Clinton’s eyes.
He yanks on my wrist and pulls me into his arms. “He’s an idiot…Lucky for me. That means I get to enjoy you.” He presses his lips to the edge of my mouth and I already feel my hunger for him stirring.
And while I love the way it feels—playing with him, getting lost in his body—I’m not the kind of girl who does casual flings. I don’t have the stomach for it. I need the security of knowing that the person I care about, cares about me. Right now, I don’t voice those concerns, though, because although being with Clinton leaves me so confused, I don’t want him to pull away. Without even trying, this man challenges all the things I’ve always thought were a given. I finally feel brave enough to explore that.
“Vivian, I know what it’s like to be alone, to feel like you don’t belong to anybody. I know that aching feeling deep in your belly when you just want someone in your corner but there’s no one there…I understand how it feels.”
Now, I find myself wondering about the dark shadows in his chestnut eyes. What’s the story behind his pain? I’m afraid to ask so I drop my gaze to my lap. "I hate being this confused," I whisper softly. "Usually, I'm in control. Usually I know what I want..."
With a finger under my chin, he lifts my face toward him. He stares into the depths of my eyes. "You do know what you want. You just can't admit it to yourself."
As his body inches closer to mine, I hear myself whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Clinton.”
His gaze is hooked on my mouth. “So maybe we should stick together…”
My heart is pounding so hard. “Yeah, maybe we should stick together…”
Chapter 18
Clinton
Vivian presses her lips to mine. She’s the softest thing I’ve ever touched. She feels so smooth. The warmth of her mouth is everything.
She moans for me, falling limp against the couch’s lumpy cushions. She deserves so much more than this. She needs a four-poster bed of roses, with silk sheets and candles burning in the background. Instead, she’s here with me in this cramped basement, touching me like there’s no place she’d rather be.
She’s the last thing I expected tonight as I prepared to babysit the kids. But when I held up the remote starter to the window and saw her sitting there, nervous, mumbling, coming apart at the seams, my plans automatically rearranged themselves to make room for her. I couldn’t resist the urge to have her next to me. Now, she’s here, under me.
Her fingers go under the hem of my shirt and she draws them along the ridges of my stomach. Her touch does crazy things to me. My cock pulses for her. I want to be inside of her so much. I press my mouth to hers, nipping on her bottom lip to coax it open. She’s wearing a naughty little smile as she turns her head away. “They said I’m not allowed to use tongue…”
Her soft giggle mixes with my husky laugh. “Oh, you remember that, huh? But you don’t remember anything else?”
“Some of it is selective amnesia, I think. To protect my self-image.”
“Right…” Smiling wryly, I move my kisses down her neck and chest, pulling down the neckline of her top to lick the dusky tips of her nipples. She shudders against me, mewls in my arms, keens closer. And now, I’m pushing the fabric down her fair skin. I’m on top of her, kissing her shoulders. Then I’m taking off her clothes and exposing her beautiful body. “So hungry to taste this pussy,” I groan.
But when my kisses move close to her pelvis, she goes tense. “No…” she says breathily as she tries to get up off the couch.
My balance falters and I barely keep myself from falling off the couch. “What’s wrong?” I ask, so dazed that I don’t even sound like myself.
“I—I—” she struggles with her words. I pull back and watch her. Her eyes go shy. “I want to taste you instead.”
My ears perk up. My blood is suddenly on fire.
She drops to her knees and pushes down the waistband of my sweatpants. With her hands sliding up my solid shaft, she looks up at me with hesitation. She wants to know just how far she can trust me. I run my knuckles down the side of her face. “So pretty…”
Her chest rises on a deep inhale and then her lips wrap around the crown of my erection. She takes me in slowly, inch by inch. The hints of trepidation in her movements tell me that she hasn’t done much of this in her life. And it’s incredibly hot, watching her do it for me.
Me. The man she called a brute. The man she said was dreadful, grotty and infuriating. The man she considered a mistake. Now, she’s on her knees in front of me, taking me dangerously close to coming down her throat.
I’m thrusting softly into her mouth and I’ve got her hair wrapped around my fist. She looks up at me—I’m panting, straining, fighting the urge to come—and a contented air of control unfurls across her features. She knows she has the upper hand and she loves it. Suddenly, she’s eager, she’s curious, she doesn’t care how messy it gets. Her head bobs quickly. She takes me deep into her wet mouth as she tenderly weighs my balls in her soft palms.
“I’m so close,” I warn darkly, my voice cracking around my words. Gripping my thighs, she bobs her head faster and faster. I swear under my breath and pull her hair. She moans. The vibration causes my whole body to go stiff. “Fuck, I’m coming.”
I’m aching to send that burst of lust straight down her throat, but I’m not sure she could handle it. So my fist curls around my dick and I yank it out of her mouth. Cum spurts all over her naked chest, warm and thick rolling down her fair skin.
She gapes down at her body in disbelief. I just baptized her tits with my semen.
Chapter 19
Vivian
So, the next morning I’m really having a moment of confliction with myself.
Because I spent the night with Clinton. We screwed like rabbits, wearing down the springs of his pull-out bed. And when it was over, I laid my cheek on the thick, warm slab of his chest and listened to the drumbeat of his heart, all while asking myself questions I’m too scared to answer. Am I falling for this man? I don’t even know him but I think I'm falling nonetheless. What's wrong with me? Have I lost my mind?
Under my arm, I grip the flask of black bean soup he gave me as I was leaving his bed and I unlock the cupcake shop's front door. My lips are too swollen to smile. My mind is too disoriented for reason. Despite the sore achiness between my thighs, I just want to grind my pelvis against the closest hard surface. Who am I anymore?
I trudge through the dark bakery and find my way into the office where I shrug out of my coat and tuck my purse into the bottom drawer of the desk. Dropping down into the swiveling chair, I take a sip of the soup. Delicious. And now, I’m smiling even as anxiety about what's happening between us bounces about in my mind.
There’s a tender spot on my chest. I outline it with my fingertips, replaying the feel of his lips working there as his erection stretched my channel. I’m a glutton and all I can think about is how long until I can get some more of him. I scold myself, trying to suppress the thoughts with a heavy dose of self-discipline. Those efforts fail miserably.
I hear footsteps approaching from down the hallway. I look up. Oh god, here comes my sister and her fiance. I'm in no mood. My breath smells like onions and penis and I really can't deal.
But I digress.
"Morning, Viv, " Leo greets me, his fingers interlocked with Reese's.
I push on a smile, covering up the warring emotions in my head. "Hey. What are you two up to?"
Reese's expression is grave and her eyes are misty as she wraps her arms around her man's waist. "Leo's traveling to Virginia with Charlie this morning. Their buddy, Archie, who they fought with in the military—he just got injured in combat."
I instinctively clench the lip of the desk. "Oh my god. How bad is it?" I ask Leo.
He shrugs with morose eyes. "We won't know until we see him. But I think it's bad. Very bad." He squeezes Reese tight.
"I'm so sorry. I hope he turns out to be okay."
Leo’s head bobs faintly and he presses a kiss to my sister's scalp. “God knows I hope so, too.” Right then his phone chirps and he checks the screen. "Charlie’s outside. I’ve gotta go."
Reese twines both arms around him and buries her face in his clothes. "You call me, okay?"
"Of course." They share a long, intimate kiss and declare their undying love for each other, etcetera, etcetera. “Take care of my girl while I’m gone,” he says to me and I nod. Then he ducks out of the room and disappears around the corner.
Reese is quiet as she takes off her jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. Then, she and I go into the kitchen and start preparing for the day. She assures me that she’s okay but I know my sister. Something’s wrong.
When she leans on the counter next to the bowl of red fondant and drops her head to her forearm, my suspicions are confirmed. “Oh my god, you’re still sick?” I’m really starting to become concerned. This bug is having its way with her.
Brave as always, she waves me off. “Ugh, I’m just a bit dehydrated. And tired. And dizzy. And I feel like my insides are raw from puking my guts out all night. But I’m okay, really.”
I’m not convinced, obviously. “Reese, maybe you should go back to the doctor.”
She does her best to stand upright and casts a smile my way. “Ah, don’t mind me. They ran a battery of tests at the hospital last week. Turns out I caught whatever nasty bug is going around at Brenton’s school. I’ll be fine.”
I suck in a deep breath. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh! You and your pregnancy conspiracies again!” I laugh and so does she. “I swear to you that I’m not pregnant. And I’ll make you a promise;
when I get pregnant, you’ll be the very first person I call. Okay? Before Leo, even. I promise.” She sticks out her pinkie finger to me.
“Are you sure Leo’d be okay with that?” I chuff through my nose.
“He doesn’t have a choice in the matter. And he’d want me to get you off my back. So I promise, I’ll tell you first.” She wiggles her pinkie in the air. “C’mon. Don’t leave me hanging.”
I laugh and lock my pinkie finger around hers.
Satisfied, she pulls a pan of red velvet cupcakes out of the oven and I can almost see her brain shifting gears. “So, Viii-iivvvvv.” She sing-songs my name in an ultra-annoying tone and I already don’t like where this conversation is going. “The big day is coming up next Saturday! I invited a few people and booked us a table at Gallos.”
Bad Boy Page 10
