Chapter 17 #3
Still, I can’t be selfish. I have to be rational.
“You’re my perfect match. Why would I want anyone else?”
Butterflies erupt at his softly spoken words as our eyes meet, his gaze akin to silk gliding down my skin and setting everything inside me aflame, my body still buzzing from the pleasure he gave me earlier.
We are a secret, though, a terrible and dirty secret that has to be hidden from the world, which would hurt me if it came to light.
So I glare at Levi, and he winks at me, taking another long sip, clearly enjoying my frustration.
“Ah, aren’t you a sweet talker?” I play off his serious statement, noticing Aileen and Emmaline studying us as my brothers sit still.
“Your wedding needs to be perfect, and people whispering behind your backs for choosing us to be paired up together creates all sorts of drama.”
They all look at me as if I’m insane for even suggesting that.
“Well, to tell you the truth, if I choose only age-appropriate couples, Pierre and Eve would have been the only ones who fit that criterion. Everyone else has decade-long age gaps.” Aileen rests her cheek on Rush’s shoulder, and he kisses her hair. “Us included.”
“In all these cases, men are older. It’s different.”
The media would be vicious to me, and I want to say I’m all brave and won’t care, but I can’t.
They would create more insecurities that my fragile psyche just can’t handle.
Since none of them seems to see my point, I decide to go for the kill and use the self-pity card that usually works well for me.
“It’s not like we are a couple, but you know the press.
They would still speculate why you paired us up and then probably discuss all this.
” I point at my scars. “I don’t really want my scars to be the focus at your wedding. ”
“Well—”
Levi interrupts whatever Aileen wants to say. “Fuck them all, then. Excuse me, ladies, for being so crude in your company, but there was just no other appropriate words for all the bullshit Lavender just said.” My brothers lift their mugs in agreement. Traitors. “We need to lead by example.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We live by our own rules, and besides, all this is just in your head. No one cares about other people. It’s an illusion.”
“An illusion?”
“Yes. Everyone cares only about themselves. And the only time other people think about you is when they wonder what you think about them.”
The tension rises between us as we have a stare-off, and I clench my fork hard, resisting the urge to throw it at him to wipe the smug expression off his face.
Though what did I expect?
I never seem to win when it comes to this man.
“Okay. Not sure what this is—” Aileen wiggles her index finger between us.
“—but I have to agree with Levi. Our family and friends won’t care, and we’ve invited only the approved press for a very limited time.
If someone dares to smear us or you in any way, they’ll be dealt with.
” She points at Rafael. “We have one of the best lawyers in the country here.”
“Right.” I dig my fork into the avocado, stuffing my mouth with it so I won’t shout at them all for dismissing my concerns once again. “As long as you’re okay with it.”
“I pity anyone stupid enough to bring up your scars.” Rush stares at me when he cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb over the most hideous part of me, according to me. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
My heart softens, and I lean into his hand, appreciating how he tries to always make me feel better about myself.
The cracking sounds echo through the space, followed by Aileen’s, “Oh no.” And I see Levi breaking his mug, hot brown liquid mixing with blood and sliding down his wrist. That must hurt and burn like hell.
“Levi!” she exclaims, getting up and pressing the napkin to his wound and her cold drink.
“I always tell you to control these muscles of yours.”
“Something cannot be controlled.” I sit up straight, moving back from Rush’s touch since Levi’s eyes linger on it, and panic washes over me, everything in me screaming to go inspect his wound. “Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch. It’ll heal before the wedding.”
“I don’t care about that!”
“Relax, princess. I got worse injuries while playing football.”
“It’s because you have no self-preservation.”
“Runs in the family, doesn’t it?”
“I guess.” They share a long look and laugh before Levi gets up, still holding the napkin. “Not that this wasn’t eventful or interesting, but I have places to be. I’ll see you around.” He zeroes his gaze in on me. “I’ll take you home.”
What? Is he crazy?
“Gordon is waiting for me, so there is no need.”
“I want to talk to you about the wedding, and since we rarely see each other, I thought it would be the perfect time. I told him to go home anyway.”
“How could you decide—” I exhale, noticing Rafael’s brow rising. “All right. Let’s go.” I can’t eat any more anyway. “I’ll see you both at the office,” I tell my brothers. “And I’ll be there for the next dress fittings.”
“We’ll hold you to that,” Emmaline says.
Giving them one last wave, I go straight ahead as Levi trails behind me.
“Don’t ever make any decisions for me again,” I throw over my shoulder as we go to the exit.
The valet has already parked his car out front, waiting for us. “And why do we need to talk anyway?”
He goes to the passenger’s side and opens the door, motioning with his head for me to get in. “Lavender, unless you want me to fuck you against the nearest surface with no regard for anyone watching, get in the car.”
Too shocked by his words, I do as he says, afraid he would actually go through with the threat. I sit still, waiting for him to get inside the car and get onto the busy road, smoothly navigating between the cars.
I can’t stand it for long, though, especially with unfamiliar frustration and pressure building inside me that demands something to break this tension all around us. “Your hand must hurt.”
“It doesn’t.”
“How can it not?”
“I’ve experienced way worse injuries than that.” His clipped tone piques my curiosity, but before I can ask anything else, he says, “I don’t appreciate the fact that other men are allowed to touch your scars but I’m not.”
Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside my throat. “Other men? That’s my brother.” He sounds as if I were cheating right in front of his eyes.
Not that it would have been cheating anyway, since we are not together.
“My point still stands.”
“No, it doesn’t. You realize how insane you sound?” I just didn’t want him to touch the one on my cheek, too afraid it might take him out of the moment and make him finally see how ugly it is.
“Why should I care? Imagine if it were the other way around.” He takes a hard turn to the right, driving toward my building. “You wouldn’t be allowed to touch a certain part of my body, but some other woman would have such privilege?”
The idea of some random woman touching all his tattoo-covered muscles that…
Wait a minute.
“I don’t mind Aileen touching you. In fact, what a gross statement.”
“That’s because my body exists for your pleasure, moy cvetochek. If any part of it was forbidden for you, you’d be singing a different tune.”
He parks the car, and I quickly get out as he does the same and spin around to face him, rolling my shoulders back.
“We’re having…a fling!” Can’t believe I’m naming this madness between us.
Somehow, giving it a name makes it even more real, and I should be squashing the illusion, not indulging in it more.
“A secret fling that implies this is very casual. An affair of sorts.”
I know I’m weak when it comes to him, and I won’t resist if he pushes for more, so I have to draw the boundaries that allow me to exist with this whole thing peacefully.
No one needs to know, and Levi will get bored at some point.
Besides, the world, or rather our families, will never accept it, so the only thing left for us is a casual fling.
The minute the words slip past my lips, I know I made a mistake, though, since his face darkens.
You can only poke a lion so many times before it finally roars.
Levi
Her eyes widen when I wrap my hand around her graceful and pretty throat, rubbing my thumb over her puckered skin that’s always going to be the most attractive thing about her to me.
It speaks about her strength.
Strength I recognize and admire, and in this, she is irreplaceable to me.
Dragging her closer to me, I catch her gasp with my mouth, our tongues entwining together, and she grips my shirt, probably wanting to push me away, but in a second, she fully melts into me.
“Let’s make something very clear, moy cvetochek,” I whisper, tipping her chin up and skimming my lips over her neck, earning myself a moan.
“You wish to experience what it is like to have a fling, I’ll indulge you in your little fantasies as long as you remember that you belong to me.
” My other hand ends up on her hip, and I knead it hard, pressing my pelvis against her warmth, her gasp echoing between us.
“You’re mine, secret affair or not. Don’t ever forget you belong to me.
” I bite her shoulder, inhaling her scent into my lungs while flexing my wrist on her throat, slightly cutting off her oxygen supply, and she jerks in my arms.
Yes, my beautiful, innocent girl loves it, and I’ll explore all her desires with her.
A car honks in the distance, and her eyes widen as she pushes me away, stepping back. “What are you doing?” She rubs her throat. “Someone could see us.” She looks around the busy road where people move all around, no one paying us any attention. “We can’t do this in public.”
The possessive beast in me despises the idea of hiding my claim on her, but Lavender never had control over her life.
Someone always dictated it, so she needs the illusion that she’s controlling us, and I’ll give it to her.
Whatever she wants, she gets, as long as what she wants is not to get away from me, because I won’t ever allow it.
She’s mine—and mine she’ll stay no matter what.
“As you wish, moy cvetochek.”
She blinks, only to shake her head and straighten up while crossing her arms. “We can pick a place to meet up, somewhere no one could see us. Maybe a hotel in a super-secluded neighborhood?”
“No.”
Another hard blink. “No?”
“Last time I checked, neither of us works as a hooker to meet up in some shitty hotel.” Her cheeks heat, and she groans. I quite enjoy watching her frustration, because her green eyes sparkle like the rarest emeralds. “We won’t be having sex on a schedule either.”
“How else would this work?” She hooks the strands of her hair behind her ear, exposing her scarred cheek, and I resist the urge to lean in and kiss it.
Moy cvetochek is already all worked up, and while I enjoy it, I know my limits.
If I push her too far, she will flee. “A secret fling needs to have a schedule.”
“Secret means no one can know about it, but we still have full access to each other.”
I see her eyes flashing in annoyance before she takes a deep breath. “Well, since you’re such an expert on flings, I guess we should listen to you.” Her tone implies the last thing she’d do is listen to me.
That’s not what has my attention.
It’s the stabby notes in all her words, and I see her nails digging into her elbows while her pulse beats wildly.
It takes me a second to guess what emotion that is.
Moy cvetochek is jealous.
“I’m not an expert on flings.”
“I’m sure you had a fling or two along the way.” Her nails sink harder into her flesh, and at this point, she’s bruising her skin, which is unacceptable.
Only I have the right to leave marks on her.
“You talking about me having flings pisses me off.” She stills, and finally, her nails stop bruising her skin. “I’ve never had any flings or been in a relationship, so the idea of you being jealous because of that is both maddening and amusing at the same time.”
I was a single guy enjoying my youth and never made any promises or used anyone for my own gratification, so I don’t feel guilty about it, and yet I do.
If I had known she was out there, I wouldn’t have touched anyone in the first place.
That’s how fucked up she makes me, which is another thing that I need to learn to control.
Control is everything. Otherwise, my madness and insanity would consume her and soak her in my darkness.
“I’m not jealous!” she hisses, her hands turning into fists, and a gust of wind blows her blonde locks backward, making me want to lace my fingers through her silky strands and bring her closer to me.
“Being jealous implies having feelings for someone.” A beat passes as if she’s searching for a suitable excuse.
“I’m just curious about sex and wish to have some experience. ”
Oh, she’ll get some experience and then some.
I have a few fantasies of my own that I want to try, only with her, for I’ve never had someone to call mine, and now I do.
Which means I won’t ever have to restrain myself again.
“It’s all right, moy cvetochek. You can use me all you want.
I’m all yours and no one else’s.” I step toward her, and she tenses.
I brush my knuckles over her cheek. “Get some rest. You had a very eventful twenty-four hours.” Before she can say anything, I walk to my car and get inside, giving her one last nod before driving away and watching her stare at me in the rearview mirror.
But I also feel another set of eyes on me, watching my every move and probably thinking they have finally found the gold mine with me.
You see, the thing about hunters?
Once they sense blood, they think they’ve trapped their prey and go after it without thinking about the consequences.
He’s hunting and thinks he’s finally found leverage, where the truth is simple.
I gave him the bait, and he’ll take it.
And when he does?
I’ll kill him.