Текст книги "S.O.B. "

Автор книги: J. C. Valentine

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

3

Vista Marquis is in my home. In my bed. I don’t know how to deal with that right now, which is why I’ve spent the evening getting plastered. If I surround myself with enough distractions, numb all the shit her being here dredges up, then I might actually be able to keep myself from climbing into her bed and fucking her senseless. Assuming I can make it up the stairs, that is.

Damn this cast. Damn the asshole that can’t kick a ball for shit. Damn my father for making me do this. Fracturing my tibia has thrown a wrench into my plans, setting me back months with everything from managers to investors, but it’s also given me a break I hadn’t anticipated.

Damn, Vista’s grown up. She’s always been a knockout, but the years have treated her kind. I honestly didn’t know what to expect to find when she got here, but it certainly wasn’t the bombshell I was presented with.

Since I checked in at the front desk on my way up, I already knew she had arrived. I’d just hoped she’d be in bed by now so I wouldn’t have to deal with another headache. On the off chance she wasn’t, Victor and the groupies we picked up earlier were supposed to provide a buffer, something to keep me occupied. I never expected to walk in and find her sitting on my couch, looking sexy as fuck. Without a bra.

Jesus, I can still picture those perky tits in my head. Those little nipples poking through the thin cotton, begging for attention. Begging for my mouth, my tongue. And that hair. Goddamn. My palms itch just thinking about running them through all that long, honey brown hair.

It’s a distraction I hadn’t planned on and definitely don’t need. I should have one of these broads bent over the arm of my couch right now, instead of offering them another drink. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Vista. Or the way she looked up at me with those expressive brown eyes when I twisted a lock of her hair around my finger. She was on fire, practically begging me to touch her, to taste her. At that moment, I would have buried myself between her silky thighs if she’d asked me to. Forcing myself to calm the fuck down and back away had been nearly impossible, until she opened her mouth and broke the spell.

I knew having Vista here was going to be a problem, but I thought the years of separation would provide the buffer I needed. Quell the thirst. Boy, was I wrong.

Four years ago, I buried every thought and feeling I had for Vista Marquis in a slew of women and booze and never looked back. Aside from the dreams I can’t control, the method had a near one hundred percent success rate so long as I remained awake. To that extent, I haven’t given her a single thought in four years.

Until my father asked me to do a favor for his wife.

In my world, everyone knows that when David Black asks for something, he’s not asking. He’s telling. If it had been any other person, I would have told them to take a hike. Levi Black doesn’t do favors. But when it comes to my father, people listen and fall in line because those who cross him generally aren’t heard from again. Not in the sense that they’re buried six feet under in an unmarked grave. Nothing as sinister as that. But David Black has connections. He gets his way, one way or another, and when he doesn’t, he knows the right strings to pull to reduce a person to nothing. Many in the business world have crashed and burned in his wake, and he didn’t even have to break a sweat.

Do I fear my father? I’d be stupid not to. If not for him, I wouldn’t be where I am now or have the things that I have. He’s an unstoppable force in the business world. He makes things happen. And he can make them “unhappen” just as easily.

My gaze lingers on the staircase where Vista disappeared, and I can’t stop the barrage of memories that hit me. Her quiet sighs in my ear. The sweet taste of her skin on my tongue. The shimmer in her eyes when she walked away from me. They’re as fresh and new as when they happened. I’ve spent this long ignoring all of it, avoiding the memories, drinking and fucking them away, but this time they refuse to return to the black box I keep them locked in. All it took was seeing her again, and I’m transported back to when I was a teenager, a rising soccer player with a scholarship and his whole future laid out for him.

Before Vista and her mother came along and fucked it all up.

It’s a good thing one of us is thinking clearly tonight. Even as kids, Vista was on the fast track to success. She had goals, dreams, and aspirations. There was never room in her life for someone like me—a cocky, self-assured playboy with a reputation. When I cut her loose that night, I did us both a favor. Now, she’s free to pursue her career, and I’m free to live my life without having to worry about disappointing someone. Being connected to a woman means expectations, and I’m not ready to be tied down. Vista is the only girl who’s ever challenged me to think differently, so it’s a good thing I got out when I did. I regret everything that happened between us. It’s put a stain on everything, including my relationship with my father. He’s never looked at me the same. I’ve damaged the trust, changed his view of me. Not that it’s much of a loss.

“You’ll end this now and that’s the last I’ll hear of it.” I hear his words in my head all over again. They transport me back to a place and time I don’t want to think about. My hands clench around the crutches before I realize I’m even angry. There’s no point in dredging up old memories, though. It’s just wasted energy.

One month. After I got busted up, my father hired the best nurses available to see to my care at home. While it was nice having someone pretend they gave a damn, it grew exhausting trying to keep up the nice guy act when I felt like shit. So I didn’t. Thankfully, my father knows what palms to grease. Over the last few months, the penthouse has been turned into a revolving door of healthcare workers.

But now, that’s all changed. Once the cast comes off, Vista will step in, taking on the responsibility of getting me back on my feet and back in action. I can’t fucking wait. Accustomed to an active lifestyle, I’m not used to so much free time. I’ve been spinning my wheels for so long I’m beginning to feel like a hamster in one of those plastic wheels—going nowhere fast.

I miss the field. I miss the smell of the dirt, the feel of the sun bearing down on me, the sound of the fans chanting my name in the stands. What I don’t miss is everything in between—the coaches yelling in my ear, my father berating me when I miss a goal, never being home, the constant grind to stay on top of every second of my life so I’m always ready to move. It’s just not the same anymore, which is why I’ve been reconsidering my future, but I need to get back on my feet before I make any life-changing decisions.

As eager as I am to get back to normal, I can’t say I’m overly thrilled about who’s going to help me get there. When my stepmother, Lara, heard that her husband was shopping around for a skilled physical therapist that wasn’t easily scared off, she jumped at the opportunity to shove her daughter under his nose. She’s under the impression that Vista needs to build a prestigious portfolio to give her an edge in the business—as if being connected to the family name won’t get her places all on its own—and who better to start her on her path than yours truly? Of course, my father is on board. Anything to make his bride happy. More like anything to shut her up, keep her occupied, so he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

The warning he issued alongside his order when he called to tell me what was going to happen is fresh and forefront in my mind. At least, it was, up until the moment I set eyes on the very person who made that warning necessary.

Holy shit. I don’t know if I can do this. Vista is a problem. My problem. Having her here, in my home, is going to change everything.

Who am I kidding? It already has. But it doesn’t have to, a voice in my head whispers.

One month.

That’s all I have to get through, and then my life can return to normal. I can go back to pretending she doesn’t exist, doesn’t matter.

One month. I repeat the words in my head until they’re keeping time with the beat of my heart. They’re my new mantra.

One month.

One month.

Piece of cake.

Now all I have to do is believe the lie.

“Unless you’ve developed an unhealthy attraction to stairs I don’t know about, quit staring into space and get over here, jackass,” Vincent calls out. “I’m not a one man circus. Help me keep these bitches entertained.”

The women gasp as if offended by Vincent’s crassness, but they’re not. They are bitches, and they know it. Hell, they’ve made it an art. It’s what makes them attractive to men—being unattainable.

Except to me.

Being who I am, women like them are a dime a dozen, which grew boring ten minutes ago.

I stare up at the empty staircase for a moment longer before kicking a crutch out behind me and twisting around to join the party with the realization that choking down the lie is going to be damn near impossible.

I can’t ignore the hollow ache in my stomach that’s formed from just seeing her any more than I can ignore the throbbing pulse that’s demanding attention in my jeans.

Vista Marquis thinks a few stairs can keep me from getting to her? Then she doesn’t really know me.

I can obtain anything I want.

I’m Levi-fucking-Black, and just like my father, I make shit happen.

4

Oh, Heavenly Father, please forgive me, for I am about to kill my stepbrother!

“What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!”

Levi is leaning in my open doorway—a door I know I closed when I went to bed last night. Or tried to. It took hours, listening to him and his “friends” laughing and making all kinds of racket, before I finally managed to fall asleep.

Now, he’s standing in my bedroom, half naked, and looking at me like I’m something he wants to kill. Or eat.

My thighs clench at the thought of Levi putting his mouth on me. The last time—no. I shut the thought down before it has a chance to go too far. It’s inappropriate. This whole situation right now is inappropriate.

“Get out!” I shout again, because he just continues to stand there, completely stoic. Unreadable. “Are you high?” Along with the rest of the world, I’ve witnessed the kind of life he leads: late nights, partying, an endless supply of women. The possibility that he’s actually high right now isn’t that far-fetched.

Why does he have to look so damn good, though?

Levi’s shirtless chest moves in a silent huff and a humorless smirk makes his lips twitch. And that damn beard. It’s distracting. I’ve only ever seen him clean shaven, but this look is even better. He looks rough. Dirty. Mountable.

Lifting his arm to his head, he rakes his fingers through his hair, making it messier than it already was. The action makes his bicep flex, showing off a massive bump, and creates a long visual line that draws my gaze down over his sculpted chest and abs to the pair of sweat pants that hang so low, I can see damn near everything.

As my eyes land between his legs, it begins to grow. My throat turns into a desert and I swallow, tearing my eyes away as I cast the inappropriate thoughts the vision inspires away. Or at least I try to. They keep sling shooting back, taunting me. Just look at it. One little peek. No!

It should be illegal to walk around like that. In fact, he should be thrown in jail for assault. I’ll never get the vision of him like this out of my head.

I hear Levi’s soft chuckle and jerk to attention.

“You should see your face right now,” he says, his voice mocking. “You behave like you’ve never seen my dick before, which we both know isn’t true. Or,” he says, his voice pitching low as he pushes off the jamb and stands tall, putting that hard bulge on full display, “maybe you just want another taste.”

Yes, please. The heat in my face deepens. I do want it. I won’t deny that, but I refuse to let him drag me any deeper into the rabbit hole or humiliate me over something we both know we want but can’t have.

“I’m not the one standing in his sister’s room with an erection,” I toss back, throwing my legs over the opposite side of the bed in a desperate need to put distance between us. “Besides, I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

Levi’s humor vanishes, his eyes narrowing to slits as the insult hangs like a guillotine between us. I’d be proud of myself, if I wasn’t lying through my teeth.

“That’s good, sis,” Levi says, his voice and expression flattening out. “It’s nice to know you’ve moved on. I always worried you’d turn into a spinster in my absence.”

That s.o.b. “That was never a danger,” I say through clenched teeth. “But it’s good to see that you’ve been living up to everyone’s expectations. You’ve certainly defined what it means to be the son of a billionaire: a sleazy, spoiled, lazy, entitled man whore. Stop me if I missed anything.”

The fire that lights Levi’s eyes burns so strong I feel a niggling of worry—that I’ve gone too far—bleed into my muscles. An imperceptible tremor vibrates through my body as he stabs the crutches into the floor, crossing the room in a matter of seconds to stand over me.  Being injured certainly hasn’t taken away his ability to be scary. He’s seething, his nostrils flaring as the breaths saw in and out of his lungs, resembling a raging bull.

“Fuck you, Vista,” he seethes. “What do you know about me? Nothing,” he fills in automatically. “And how could you, when you ran off in the middle of our parents’ wedding and are only just now coming back?”

Incensed, I glare openly now, resentful of him bringing up the past. He knows why I left. What was I supposed to do? He’d rejected me, and I was on my way to college anyway. I’d just sped up the process, saving us all a lot of headache.

“You’re right, maybe I don’t know anything about you, but you know what? I don’t want to. So if you’re worried I’ll want to stick around and find out, don’t be. As soon as this month is over, I’m gone,” I shoot back, getting in his face. I have plans—big ones—and none of them involve hanging around here any longer than I absolutely have to.  Levi Black is a means to an end, that’s all.

Bringing his nose to mine, Levi looks into my eyes. “I. Can’t. Wait.”

The anger with which he says this twists something inside my chest. I don’t want to acknowledge what it might be, so instead, I scrunch my nose up at the fetid smell of stale alcohol on his breath. “You need to brush your teeth.”

Like a total pig, he opens his mouth wider and huffs in my face, making me want to vomit. “My breath might not be minty fresh, but at least it doesn’t smell like dirty ass.”

“Oh, do you speak from experience? Do you make a habit of going around smelling people’s asses?” I toss back.

“Only when I’m chin deep in pussy and they’re sucking my cock, princess.”

I feel my eyes widen and my jaw drop. A cruel chuckle rumbles deep in Levi’s chest and he breaks out in a triumphant grin as he backs toward the door. I hate him. So damn much I could spit nails.

“While sparring with you has been fun,” he says jovially as he shifts toward the door, “you’re not the only one who has work to do. So I suggest you grab a shower and meet me downstairs in an hour so we’re not late.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift an eyebrow to hide my surprise. “What constitutes ‘work,’ exactly?”

“Ah, now that, dear sister, is a surprise. But rest assured. I’ll make sure you put those fingers to good work.”

***

“Change. Your. Fucking. Clothes, Vista. Now.”

I can’t believe she thought she could get away with it. After leaving her room to get ready for the day ahead, I jumped in the shower, wrapping the lower half of my leg in plastic to keep the cast dry, and then struggled some more to get dressed, and still made it back downstairs with time to spare. Massive time to spare.

Women and their beauty regimens. I’ve never understood how any one person could take so damn long on their appearance and come out looking totally natural.

That’s Vista. She’s natural from the top of her walnut brown head to the tips of her unpolished toes. But somehow, she manages to not only look stunningly beautiful, but take for-freaking-ever to do it.

It’s the clothes. She’s made a perfectly ordinary pair of black skinny jeans and a transparent black and purple striped cap-sleeved top look like lingerie. It’s entirely inappropriate for where we’re headed, and I have an insatiable urge to march up to her and tear every thread off of her.

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” she asks, looking down at herself.

“Nothing, if you’re going for the biker whore look,” I snark back. I don’t know why I do it. Pressing her buttons is a knee-jerk reaction that I can’t seem to get a handle on. But it doesn’t matter anyway. Vista is cold as ice. Case in point, the way she’s looking at me now. It could freeze a man’s nuts off.

“I do not look like that,” she bites back. “And I’m not changing.” The way she says this while lifting that stubborn chin says the conversation is closed. I don’t like it, and I consider fighting her on it, but I remind myself that I’m not her boyfriend or her daddy. I know when to back down and when to start a fight, and we just don’t have time for a fight today.

Crossing the floor in long strides that make her hips sway and my jeans tight, Vista shoves past me and rips open the refrigerator door. “Where are we going?”

Pivoting around, I lean back against the counter to relieve the pressure the crutches put on my underarms and continue drinking my glass of milk as I watch her. She has her head in the fridge, her arm slung over the top of the open door, and the position shoves her perky ass up and out. Goddamn.

Running my tongue over my teeth, I can’t help wondering what she’s like in bed now. Wild? Or tame? As teenagers, Vista was the shy type, letting everyone else call the shots while she followed. The one time I got her underneath me, she was exactly the same—meek, malleable, easy to please, and eager to follow directions. But she seems different now. More confident.

“I already told you,” I begin, addressing her question before I forget that one was asked. “It’s—”

“A surprise. Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time,” she remarks. Straightening, she slams the door shut and rounds on me. “Don’t you have anything other than beer, milk, and condiments in this place? I’m starving.”

“It’s a bachelor pad, princess. Any food that gets eaten here is ordered in.” With a sigh, my eyes travel over her slight frame. She’s slim, but curvy. Healthy. Not like the stick thin chicks I usually find in my bed the morning after a bender. They’re all sharp angles, but it’s not their curves I’m looking for anyway. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can scrounge up some celery sticks when we get there.”

Her face bunches up at my suggestion and she smacks her lips in distaste. “Do I look like a girl who eats celery for breakfast?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her as I turn and lead the way to the door. “Usually women with flat asses are on a two-hundred-calorie-a-day diet.”

She stops mid step and stares up at me with fire dancing in her eyes. “I don’t have a flat ass, you jackass. You’re confusing me with your bed partners.”

“Have you ever heard of Sir Mix-a-lot, Vista?” I ask as I swing out into the hall and call for the elevator while she locks up behind us. When she steps up next to me, I deliberately lean into her so that the entire right side of my body rubs against the left side of hers. Immediately, she sidesteps, and I nearly burst into laughter. I never expected teasing her could be so much fun.

We pause to wait for the elevator and I use the time to lean down, close enough that my lips skim the shell of her ear. Her lips part, and I hear her sharp intake of breath which only makes this moment even more enjoyable as I whisper, “My anaconda don’t want none….” I trail off, humming the rest of the tune.

It takes her a moment, and then she lowers her chin to her chest and her shoulders begin to shake with silent laughter. When she lifts her head, her face is tinged scarlet and she’s wearing a wide smile that threatens to stop my heart.

I’m shocked. I expected her to freak out and start screaming, or rear back and hit me, because that’s what uptight princesses like her generally do. But this is a pleasant surprise. Maybe Vista isn’t the ice queen she projects. I wonder how much of that rebellious streak that led her into my arms the first time is still left in her.

We step into the elevator together and silently watch as the numbers count down. It’s so quiet in here that every breath she takes registers in my ears. I watch her from the corner of my eye, unable to stop looking at her. I still can’t believe she’s here. I never thought I’d see her again, and I’d always imagined that if I did, it would be under duress. We didn’t end on a good note, which is entirely my fault, and I certainly never expected that I might actually begin to like her. Again.

“What do you want to eat?” I ask her as we grow closer to the ground floor. “I’ll swing by someplace on the way.”

The elevator slows to a crawl, and when the doors slide open, I throw out a crutch and hold them there, waiting for her to pass through first. Then she purses those pale pink lips that I know are going to star in many midnight fantasies as she walks out.

“I want eggs. And bacon,” she adds as I fall into step with her. “Oh, and toast with cinnamon butter. And coffee. The real stuff, not instant.” She makes a face and it’s so adorable on her, I find myself smiling.

A girl who actually eats. I’m impressed. “Are you going to be able to eat all that?”

“Please, that’s a snack compared to what I usually eat.”

I find myself laughing as I lead us past the front desk. It’ll be nice to share a meal with someone who doesn’t complain about carbs and blowing their diet for once.

“You’re paying, right?” Vista’s chocolate brown eyes lift to mine as we push through the turnstiles and cross the sidewalk to my car that’s already waiting for me. I nod my thanks to the valet as I lean down to open the passenger door.

“I thought you were getting this one,” I tease her.

“Excuse me? Who’s the famous soccer player slash trust fund baby here?” A frown crosses her face as she looks down at the car then back up at me. “I hope you don’t think you can drive with that thing on.”

“Hasn’t stopped me yet,” I inform her with a confident lift of my chin.

Her mouth flaps open and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I expected you to be reasonable...” she mutters. Pausing with one foot in the door, she grips the top of the frame and stares up at me with a challenging lift to her brow. “If you get us killed, I’m going to strangle you.”

“Oh, and how do you plan to do that? I’ll be dead.”

I grin down at her and her eyes narrow as if annoyed, but I see the amusement in them. She likes it when I tease her, and I’m shocked to realize that I’m more than willing to keep doing it if it means keeping that smile on her face.

“You’re picking up the tab this time,” she tells me. With a wink, she drops into the seat and I close the door, shaking my head as I round the front of the car and climb into the driver’s seat.

When I rolled out of bed this morning with a mile long headache, cotton mouth, and the prospect of having to deal with an unwanted guest, I didn’t think this day could get much worse. But then I found myself standing in her room and, well...I have to admit, this day is looking pretty damn good from where I’m sitting.

I glance over at Vista who’s riding shotgun in a car that’s normally reserved for myself alone. She has her face turned away from me, staring out the window at the passing scenery and bobbing her head to the music drifting from the speakers. The morning sunlight filtering through the skyscrapers catches in her hair, setting off the strands of gold and red that run throughout and make me want to reach out and touch it to see if it’s real. She’s gorgeous. Perfect in every way.

Yeah, things are definitely looking good from where I’m sitting.