Mad Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance (Mad Valentine Trilogy Book 1) (9 page)

“Okay, then,” I said.

“Okay, then.” He watched me from the couch. I could feel our unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. He was the one to break the silence.

“Good night, friend,” he said.

“Good night, friend,” I replied. I turned out the light and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I took off my sweater and my bra, leaving my tank top on. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and watched myself in the mirror as I took down my hair. As my dark hair fell around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but notice my cheeks were rosy—was it from the heat in the apartment or the whiskey? Or was it from these dirty thoughts of Victor I was trying so hard to suppress?

Uneasily, I left the bathroom and got into bed. I took off my jeans under the covers and settled in, telling myself to get some rest. But instead, I was engulfed by another wave of disappointment and unfulfilled desire.

XIX. Dream

I awoke to the sound of rustling near me and turned to see a shadow pulling back the covers. I was deep in the fog of sleep and struggled to register what was happening. The yellow light of the streetlamp outside streamed in through a gap in the curtains. In the dim light, I made out Victor’s figure, naked from the waist up. As the midnight shadows played across his body, I could see his defined arms and chest and the intricate tattoos that covered them. My sleepy eyes traveled further down his body, to his abs, and then lower, to his belt. His grey jeans hung seductively on his hips. His skin was smooth, and I could make out the shadowy dips of his pelvis…somewhere deep inside it registered that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He slid into bed next to me.

Slow to respond and still fighting the cobwebs of sleep, I murmured, “Victor? What are you—”

“Shhh,” he whispered as he came closer. “It’s okay, angel. Just close your eyes.”

A part of me fought to keep my eyes open, but my eyelids, heavy with sleep, slowly closed.

“But I thought…you were sleeping on the couch…” I was lying on my back and he lay down facing me, stretching his lean body next to mine. It felt so nice, but I was suddenly aware that I was lying next to him wearing only my panties and a thin tank top. He inched closer and I felt his chest press against my arm. His skin was so warm and smooth.

“Mmm…” Despite myself, I snuggled a little closer to him, and I felt him put an arm around me. I could feel his breath on my neck and I shivered with pleasure. Something deep inside me was waking up.

“Angel,” he whispered into my ear, “you take my breath away.” His voice was gravely and I drank in the sound of his words. His hand, which was resting on my hip, started to draw little circles on my skin. It sent shivers up and down my body.

“Mmm,” I murmured again, and pressed just a little harder against him. My hip pressed against his groin and I almost moaned with pleasure when I felt he was hard.

The circles he was drawing melted away as he flattened his hand and slowly caressed my thigh. Welcoming his touch, I turned to face him, allowing his hand to slide over the thin fabric of my panties. His hand caressed the curves of my ass and I felt a fire ignite deep in my belly.

“Ellen,” he breathed.

“Victor...” I opened my eyes to see him watching me intently. I slid my hand up his torso and gently pushed my thigh between his legs. He watched me, not stopping me, and I grew bolder, pressing myself against his erection. Almost without my bidding, my body started to grind against him.

“Mmm,” he moaned. He kissed me then—deep and hard. He ground against me and I moaned into his mouth as his tongue found mine. My hands crawled down to his belt as he held me tightly. His hand pushed its way under my tank top, and when his thumb grazed my nipple, I felt them harden. I fumbled with his belt and finally got it undone. Then I undid his button, then the zipper, then—
oh, my god—
my hand reached in and found his huge cock. Slowly, teasingly, I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft. He let out a low, guttural moan as I began to move my hand up and down, stroking him slowly, wanting to milk his desire.

His hand went to the hem of my shirt and hungrily, almost savagely, he pushed the fabric up, exposing my breasts. With a hand pressed against my back, he pulled me to him and cupped a breast with his other hand. I arched my back as I felt his mouth on my nipple, my eyes rolling back as he gently began to suck.

I was almost senseless with pleasure. He was incredible at playing and toying with my sensitivity. Just then I realized my panties were wet through. The damp fabric rubbed against my most sensitive spot and I felt myself throbbing with desire.

“Oh, god, Victor, please…” I moaned, stroking and grinding as he sucked. “Please, I want more…”

Victor’s mouth released my breast and he kissed his way up my throat and nibbled my ear.

“You want more?” he whispered between nibbles.

“Yes,” I panted.

“Ask me nicely, angel.” His hot breath was on my throat. I felt flames of desire spread between my legs and I realized that I would actually get down on my knees and beg this man to fuck me if he wanted me to.

“Victor, please,” I murmured, my entire body aflame, “please fuck me. Please fuck me now.”

He moved swiftly and I gasped as his thumbs slid my panties down, shoving them past my knees. He moved away to slide his own pants off and I waited in agony to feel his body against mine again. Soon, I was rewarded with the feeling of his knees between my thighs, spreading me open. Kissing me deeply again, he cupped my breast with one hand. I moaned. With his other hand, he reached down and stroked me, moving his fingers against my clit.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Yes,” I said, my breasts rising and falling with each breath, my clit throbbing against his hand, my legs spreading open against his thighs.

“I’ll give you what you want, angel.”

He pushed his hips against me so I could feel the tip of his cock against my opening. Looking into my eyes, he teased us both with it, brushing it against me until I moaned uncontrollably. My hips rose up to him, aching to take him in. He groaned, and, unable to hold himself back any more, he plunged himself into me—and I woke up with a gasp.

XX. Secret

I was in a tangle of sheets and I blinked in the darkness, trying to gather my thoughts. My nipples were still hard and I felt a tingling between my legs, but there was no Victor in bed with me. There was just myself and the yellow light of the streetlamp. Breathing heavily, I sat up and waited until my eyes adjusted to the dark. I strained to see the couch. There was Victor, sprawled out, sound asleep. His shirt was still on and the blanket covered him messily. I could see one denim-clad leg peeking out of the blanket.

Oh, my god. I just had a wet dream about Victor. And he’s right here, in my apartment, just a few yards away.

The shock was paralyzing and my cheeks burned, but I was still consumed with desire. I tried to push the image of him on top of me out of my head, but I couldn’t. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, but I almost moaned out load because the feeling of his cock pushing between my legs came back to me with such force.

I covered my mouth and snapped my eyes open. I looked at Victor again and I squirmed as a lick of desire traveled from between my legs throughout my whole body. Suddenly, before I knew what I was doing, I was getting out of bed and moving to the bathroom door. Silently, I went in, shut the door, and locked it. It was only when I turned on the light that I realized what I was going to do.

I shouldn’t do this. Not with him right here!

But my breath came out hot and heavy. I cast one guilty glance at the door before my hand slid beneath my panties. When I felt the slickness between my legs, I covered my mouth with my other hand. With my heart pounding, my fingers caressed the slickness and I saw Victor on top of me again, touching me, kissing me, pressing himself against me. I clamped my hand tighter over my mouth as my fingers stroked my most sensitive spot and I gave into the waves of pleasure that built up deep in my belly. I heard Victor telling me, “Ellen, you take my breath away.” As I imagined him plunging into me, my eyes rolled back and one final, massive wave of pleasure crashed over me. I came hard—so hard—doubling over and shuddering. But I did not make a sound.

When the last spasms of pleasure had subsided, I slowly uncovered my mouth. My legs were weak and I supported myself with both hands on the vanity as I looked at myself in the mirror. I was flushed, my hair was messy, my chest was still heaving. My eyes shone and I felt…amazing.

Holy shit.

Then I sank to the floor.

XXI. Breakfast

The next morning, I woke up not to a shadowy figure in my bed, but to the smell of coffee.

“Mrrgh?” I groaned as I struggled to sit up. It had been an intense night and after I had come out of the bathroom—my face still burned at the memory of it—I had fallen into bed and slept like the dead.

“Morning, sunshine,” came Victor’s voice from behind the open refrigerator door. “You got any milk in here somewhere? I’m thinking French toast.”

“Um, yes. I mean, no. Wait, did you say milk?” I squinted through my whiskey-induced headache.

Victor shut the refrigerator door and turned his amused eyes to me. “Are you always this inept in the morning?”

“Ugh,” I said with a heavy sigh, sliding out of bed. But when I stood up, I realized I was still only wearing my panties and tank. With a gasp, I scrambled back under the covers. Victor just stood with his hand on the refrigerator door, watching me from the kitchen. He chuckled as I sat there, burning with embarrassment.

“Here,” he said, crossing the living room to the open closet where my bathrobe was hanging. “Put this on.”

He tossed it at me. “Thanks,” I muttered, and I put it on sheepishly, realizing too late that my jeans were right next to me on the floor. Thus be-robed, I got out of bed and joined him in the kitchen. I poured myself a cup of coffee. I closed my eyes and savored the smell. After a gulp, I felt a little more human.

“Sorry. Rough morning,” I said. “Let me see about that milk.”

“Never mind, we’ll just have scrambled eggs and toast.”

I blinked and saw that Victor had already beaten some eggs and cut the rest of the baguette from the night before. I watched as he expertly salted and peppered the eggs and gave them a final whisk. He oiled the pan and turned to me, leaning against the counter as he waited for the pan to heat.

“Wow, you’re sure comfortable in the kitchen,” I said, impressed.

“Well, after my mom died it was just me and my old man. Let’s just say he wasn’t the cooking type.” Victor’s voice was hard whenever he talked about his father. But he gave a shrug and turned back to the pan. “At least I know how to make a decent breakfast now. Go sit down.”

I did as he said, and soon we had finished a very decent breakfast. Satisfied and coming back to life, I drank my coffee.

“So, you have class today?” I asked.

Victor nodded. “You?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of telling Stu about his piece before winter break. About his possible Person of the Year. You think that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. He’d appreciate it, even if he doesn’t end up getting it. Want me to come with you?”

I smiled. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Victor took a final gulp of coffee, and I watched his throat muscles working. Then my eyes trailed down to his pecs, then lower still…

“All right, I better go. Thanks for letting me crash, El. Better safe than sorry, huh?” He stood up, grabbing his jacket on the back of his chair. He reached to clear away the dishes but I stood and stopped him.

“No, I’ll do it. Whoever cooks doesn’t clean, whoever cleans doesn’t cook, remember?”

He grinned, a soft look coming into his eyes. He reached for my hand, but stopped midair and dropped his hand to his side and cleared his throat. We both stood there in the awkward silence.

“Okay, well, thanks again for dinner,” he said. “My treat next time.”

“Deal.”

At the door, he paused for a moment before going out. He looked back over his shoulder and said quickly, “Nice panties.” With a wicked grin, he was gone, and I was staring at a closed door.

XXII. Friends

Life was a busy blur for the next few weeks. There were exams to prepare for, papers to write, Christmas money to make at the bowling alley (we brought in an awesome haul from two uptown couples on a drunk double date—the guys just couldn’t take a loss), and of course, Maggie, Archie, and I had our monthly “hotties of Hollywood” movie night. December was Archie’s month to choose the hottie, and he picked George Clooney. It was a treasured ritual among us, much like our nights of gambling at the bowling alley, but I found my mind drifting off as I watched the movies. I saw Victor in Clooney’s role, wearing a tux, shooting a gun, giving the camera his sexy crooked grin. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the movie. It was ridiculous how much Victor was getting under my skin.

The following week, between final papers and group study sessions, Victor and I visited Stu. In his studio garage, I told Stu about his profile piece, how the editor had liked it, and how it had gotten recommended for the school paper’s Person of the Year feature. Stu was excited but humble, and as we left the garage, he had given Victor a pat on the back, as if it were something Victor had accomplished, not himself.

Before we left Stu’s garage, though, it had come up in conversation that I was looking for a magazine job in New York after graduation. Stu flipped through his Rolodex—yes, a
Rolodex
—and gave me the name of a friend of his in New York.

“He’s a senior editor at
Esquire
,” Stu told me. “Send him an email. He might be able to connect you with the right people.”

I thanked Stu profusely and decided to find him a nice Christmas present over winter break.

On the last day before break, Victor and I went to our coffee shop—the one he had taken me to the first time. We’d been several times since then, once with Archie even. It was now mid December, and the Oregon weather was crisp and cold. As I slid into the dark wooden bench, I unwrapped my scarf and let out a contented sigh.

“I love this weather,” I said with a happy sniffle.

“Oh, yeah?” Victor studied me over his cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I love winter. I love the cold. I love the crisp air, the rosy cheeks.”

“You’re going to be a great fit for New York, then,” he said, looking down at the table. Suddenly, I felt sad. The thought of leaving for New York filled me with an oily feeling of unease that I’d never felt before. But it wasn’t the thought of leaving familiarity behind that bothered me so much. If I dug down deep enough, it was the thought of possibly never seeing Victor again.

I changed the subject.

“So what are you doing for winter break?”

“You know that I’m from here. My old man still lives in the house where I grew up. I’ll go stay with him a while. I think he likes me being there for the holidays, in his own fucked up way.” Victor fidgeted with his coffee cup as he talked. “But it’s all right. I’ll spend some time with Jose and those goofballs.” I knew he meant his buddies in the band.

“Written any new songs lately?”

“Yeah, I’ve written one new one.” He finally looked up and met my gaze. He took a long, slow sip of coffee.

“Is the band playing it?”

“Maybe if you tell them you want to hear it.”

“Me? Why would I matter?”

He gave me a non-committal shrug. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not.”

I gave Victor a puzzled look but moved on. “Well, I guess you know Maggie and I are going home for winter break. I can’t wait to see my little sister. She’ll be graduating high school next year! Christmas will be spent with the family, then Mags and I will probably go out with high school friends for new year’s. It’s always a shit show.” I rolled my eyes.

“You and Maggie? A shit show? Never.” Victor’s tone was mocking and his eyes were laughing.

“Yeah, okay, Mister Bring a Bottle of Whiskey to Dinner and Can’t Drive Himself Home,” I laughed. He laughed too, and suddenly a pang in my chest made me stop. I said the next words before I could stop myself: “I’m going to miss you over break.”

Our eyes locked. “I’m gonna miss you too, El.” As he said the words, he reached out and touched my face. His fingers lingered on my cheek, and it gradually turned into a slow caress. I felt a magnetic pull toward him and I leaned in slightly. Entranced, I watched as he, too, leaned in, bringing his face closer to mine. His eyes were now resting on my lips and I closed my eyes, leaning in to meet him. Just then, the bell over the door tinkled and an exuberant voice cried out, “Hey, you guys!”

Archie.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Taking off his bright red knit cap, Archie walked over and flopped himself into a chair next to Victor. He gave me a raised eyebrow but kept rattling on. “God, I love this place. Ever since you brought me here that one time I’ve been coming back like every other day.”

“Good to see you, Archie,” Victor replied a little unsurely. He seemed just as jarred as me. I gathered my wits and gave my friend a bright smile. It was nice, actually, to have Archie here hanging out with us. I wanted my friends to get to know Victor better.

“Hey, Arch!” I replied. “Go get a coffee and join us for a while.”

“Okie doke!” With that, Archie skipped off to the counter for whatever froufrou drink he liked to get.

Victor turned back to me and raised his eyebrows. We shared a quiet laugh and settled in to enjoy some quality time with Archibald Covington, the gayest man at Merritt University with the most aristocratic name.

“So! I know it’s a long way off,” Archie said when he came back with his drink, “but I heard about a fun thing happening at Warren’s house after break. Victor, you’re a Valentine so you’ll appreciate this.” He patted Victor on the shoulder. “Apparently the frat house is having a super swanky black-tie gala on Valentine’s Day. No beer kegs, no chugging, no sweaty boys in togas—unfortunately.”

Archie frowned and we laughed. “It’s all champagne and tuxes and little hors d’oeuvres. Sounds fun, right?”

“Yeah, sounds more civilized than the usual frat party. What’s the occasion? Why Valentine’s Day?”

“It’s a fundraiser, I think. I’m not sure. But we should go! Start polishing your shoes, Victor, because I
definitely
want to see you there with your tux on.”

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you down, Archie.” Victor gave his half-smile with the dimple and I think both Archie and I melted into our shoes.

We spent the winter afternoon chatting, joking, just hanging out like normal people. It felt so good. Archie and Victor were unlikely friends, but they got along really well.

If I could just get Maggie to spend some time with him, I know she’d come around.

An hour or so later, with our coffee cups long empty, we got up to go. I knew I probably wouldn’t see them again until after break, so I hugged them both. When I embraced Victor, my hands felt the strong muscles in his back, and I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his arms around me. He smelled clean and manly, and I let myself drink it in before letting him go.

“Well,” I said, looking at my two very different friends, “Merry Christmas. See you next year.”