Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vesper
Bellamy was in a foul mood for the rest of the day. She spent the whole time ignoring Vesper—didn’t talk or make another play at seducing her. Vesper, on the other hand, was trying to enjoy her win. She should be fucking giddy.
Usually, she would be. She loved beating Bellamy at her own game.
It was just the tiniest amount of payback she could get.
But now, with Bellamy’s taste still on her tongue, the ghost of her firm touch on her jaw, the scent of her swirling in the stifling trolley air, Vesper wasn’t able to gloat.
She couldn’t enjoy the victory when Bellamy’s touch was all she could fucking think about.
It had been years—years—since Bellamy had touched her like that.
She’d never allowed it—not that she’d allowed it this time—but before, Bellamy hadn’t been bold enough to take it.
Not until they were trapped together in a trolley that was getting smaller by the second.
Vesper wondered what had changed. What had made Bel act like that?
Vesper hadn’t done anything differently, had she?
Hours had passed since that kiss, that touch, and she still couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even the light shuffling of cards that Bellamy had been idly playing with for half the day didn’t affect her.
Bellamy had successfully broken Vesper’s brain.
It was that fucking kiss. There was a reason Vesper hadn’t allowed them to kiss like that before. They didn’t kiss. They fucked. Hate-fueled fucking was all they did now. Never whatever the fuck that was. Vesper could count on one hand how many kisses they’d shared over the years.
And they were never like that. Never twice in one day.
When night started to fall around them, they were forced to face the inevitable: the bed in their trolley was laughably small. They could share it—in theory there was enough room for two people—but another thing Vesper wouldn’t allow again was cuddling.
They’d already done more than she’d wanted. Touched in more intimate ways than they ever should have. Fucking Bellamy. She really did have to ruin everything.
Bellamy started the argument over their sleeping situation. Of course. Because she hadn’t been affected like Vesper had, since she was clearly only doing this to be a bitch and to fuck with Vesper’s head. And, of course, for the damn bonus.
Bellamy claimed that she should get the bed since Vesper had been “such an asshole” earlier. That, at least, pulled a wry laugh from Vesper. Of course Bellamy would make it her fault. As if Bellamy wasn’t the one who’d spent half the day trying to fuck her to win a bet.
Vesper argued that since it was Bellamy who started it, then really, Vesper should be rewarded for her efforts not to give in.
But her heart hadn’t been in the argument.
She was still too distracted, her head still reeling.
Vesper knew, by the way, that she was taking advantage, that Bellamy could see it too.
Vesper had been successfully ignoring Bellamy up until that argument, and even during it, she couldn’t look at Bellamy. She kept her eyes trained on her book instead. That pissed Bellamy off more, which Vesper decided was a win, since she ultimately lost the bed.
When the cabin started to dim, Vesper prepared for sleep. Despite their employers springing for an overnight trolley with a bed, apparently one with any fucking lights was too expensive for them. That left the two of them with little choice other than suffering and trying to sleep much too early.
Unless Vesper decided she was bored enough to lose their bet.
Which she was definitely not. Even though it was all she could fucking think about.
Vesper was determined to avoid touching Bellamy for as long as she could.
With any luck, it would be long enough to forget the feel of Bel’s hands in her hair.
Eventually, she drifted off to the soft lull of the wheels humming along the track. The vibrations of the trolley had grown comforting throughout the day, and she relaxed into sleep on her little bench.