Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 12
Viktor Farrow
Her pupils dilated every time she glanced at me. I knew it—she wanted me, and by fuck, I was going to make it my goal to not only have her begging for me but panting my name. What did she call me? A coke-addled has-been?Something along those lines, I think. By the time I finished ravaging her heart, she’d be a quivering mess in my wake.
“Have you eaten?” I sipped another drink of the shitty hot chocolate. It tasted like water with a hint of cocoa. Disgusting. But by God, I stood and drank the sludge for the chance to get closer to the entrancing little angel with her sweet face and sharp tongue.
“W-what?” Her gaze narrowed and darted around the closet she called a kitchen. Seriously, I had coat closets bigger than this thing. And don’t even get me started on the décor.
“Have. You. Eaten?” I set the cup on the counter, hoping I’d drunk enough to not offend, but not really giving much of a rat’s ass if I did. It might’ve been fun to watch her cheeks flush that lovely shade of scarlet and her face tighten into that cute frown. Sexy. “You know, put something in your mouth.” Out of pure reflex, I glanced down to my zipper before dragging my attention back to her face. “Like food. Supper. Dinner. Whatever the fuck you call it.”
A quizzical expression clouded her face. “It’s past ten o’clock at night. Way too late to—”
“Rubbish.” I plucked the disgusting beverage from her hand—saving her from whatever carcinogenic shite was in the liquid—and with mine, dumped the mugs into the sink. “You work in the afternoon, so there’s no reason for you not to enjoy a late-night meal.”
“What the hell, Viktor? You just wasted my hot chocolate.” One hand propped on her hip. She stared icicles at me.
“So? I’ll buy you a new one. A real one. Not this imitation crap filled with liquid plastic.” I slid an arm around her shoulder. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
I hadn’t gone on a date this late in… Shit, I couldn’t remember ever going on an actual date in years. Wait, that’s not what this is. It’s just part of my plan to woo her and then prove how irrelevant she is to me.
She didn’t remove my hand, which I took as a good sign. Instead, with a faltering step, she let me lead her out of the cramped room.
“I-I suppose I could go for a late supper.” She stopped at a door in the narrow hallway. “But can you just go out in public and get something to eat? Aren’t you worried about mobs spotting you or something?”
“Angel, you said yourself I’m a has-been, so why would you think I’d have any issues?” She was right, of course, but I fucking loved watching her squirm.
Nibbling her bottom lip, she moved her glance to the ugly-ass carpet at her feet and swiped her black-painted toenails across the fibers as if thinking.
“I was…” A deep sigh, and then those mahogany eyes met mine. She didn’t wear a lick of cosmetics, and I found I enjoyed the natural look, unlike the made-up clowns who usually tried to impress me. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have said that.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on the last two words.
I put a finger under her chin and lifted. “No need to apologize to me, Love. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Those beautiful eyes, rimmed with curled lashes, blinked a few times. “Perhaps I should be the one apologizing. I was out of line assuming anything about your love life.”
A glint of wetness appeared in her eyes, but when she blinked, it was gone.
There’s a story there. Challenge accepted. I’d coax her past love life out of her, too, before I asserted my status and left her in my dust.
“So, what say you put on some clothes and let me take you out for a night on the town? It’s not every day a rock god gets to rub shoulders with the masses.” I wiggled an eyebrow, and I could’ve sworn the tiniest smile quivered on her lips before she schooled her face into a mask of nonchalance.
Nodding, she padded to her room.
I peered inside, curiosity driving me to get a clear picture of her bed. Baby-blue sheets met my attention before the door gently closed in my face.
Well, I could incorporate this into my first challenge, Operation Angel Seducer, or OAS for short.
A raggedy, orange cat ambled into the hallway then stopped at my feet.
“You must be Marky.” I wasn’t a big fan of cats. Growing up, my parents had only allowed dogs as family pets.
He let out a soft meow then rubbed against my jeans—my designer jeans—and left several long hairs on the denim.
“Get out of here, you little twat.” I made a shooing motion with my hand then pointed toward the living room. “Go do cat things, like puke on the rug and crap in your box.”
He slapped a paw at my boot and ran off.
Fucking cat. Now, if Marky had been a dog, he and I would’ve gotten along splendidly.
Attention back on the closed door of Angela’s bedroom, I conjured up an image of her stripping out of the bathrobe, and shifted my feet. How I’d love to get my hands on her naked skin to find out if it was as smooth and soft as I’d imagined. If things go well tonight…who knows?
I rubbed my hands together and grinned. What a delight this little town was turning out to be.