Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 24
Viktor Farrow
Thongs. She wears thongs.
I slipped the white lace down her smooth hips and inhaled her scent, curving my hands around the backs of her thighs and digging my fingertips into the soft flesh to steady myself before I fucking fainted from the pure excitement and lust coursing in me.
She bit her bottom lip and moaned, and I couldn’t tear my attention from her face. I wanted to see what my pleasure did to her, to absorb every minute facial expression as I tried to erase, or at least ease, the horrible memories she carried from that bastard ex-husband.
Right before my tongue reached the promised land, something creaked from behind.
Angela’s eyes flew open and I started.
Squeals and giggles shattered the quiet.
Fuck me nine ways to Sunday. Whoever it was, I would throttle them with my bare hands.
Reflexively, I jumped up and turned, ensuring my body covered her right proper.
Justin and one of his many ladies stopped short at the threshold. “Oh, shit, mate.” His eyes bulged, and his mouth fell open. “I didn’t know…” He leaned to the side to try and get a better look at Angela.
Fucking pervert.
I met the action, keeping my body as a buffer between his amused gaze and her dignity.
The sound of her jeggings sliding along her thighs whispered behind me, tempting me to insanity with the memory of how damn close I’d gotten.
“Bugger off, mate.” My words were a growl, hinging on a snarl. I knew my face twisted with barely controlled rage because my skin felt tight, as if it would burst if I moved too quickly.
He held up his hands then swiveled toward his flavor of the night. “It seems this room’s taken. How about we go back to the house and check out the game room?” He pinched her ass. “There’s an enormous pool table in the middle.”
She giggled and slid the tip of a pink fingernail down his chest. “Okay, babe.” With a toss of her long hair, she and Justin retreated.
Sighing, I flipped around to Angela.
Now decent, she backed away a couple of steps. Color suffused her cheeks, and her gaze flitted around the room. Sorry, boy. I shifted my legs, giving my dick a little breathing room. It looks as if neither of us are getting any farther tonight. Operation Angel Seducer is on hiatus.
“I-I should probably be getting home. Marky needs to be fed.” Finally, her gaze lifted to mine. Gone was the barely contained desire, and in its place lurked caution.
Fucking Marky. I hoped she laced his food with something that gave the furball a slight case of the shits, the arsehole. And, Justin, you just wait until I see you tomorrow, you little prick.
Taking a deep breath, I wrestled my feelings under control. “Okay. Whatever you want.” I retrieved the guitar and checked it for damage then propped it into its stand. Keeping my back to her, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and stared at the foam soundproofing on the wall. “Was it something I said, something I did?” I cringed inwardly. An insane urge to retrieve the words beat inside my head, but it was too late.
“W-what?” Her body heat reached me before she appeared in my periphery. She lifted her small hand and set it on my upper arm. “No, it’s not you. Not at all. Tonight was amazing.”
I faced her. “Then what is it, Angela? It seemed as if you were enjoying yourself.” A teensy bit of swagger might have colored my words, so I tried to rein it in. I didn’t want to give her a reason to go back to hating me.
She blushed, and goddamn if I didn’t have a mini heart attack.
“I did. It’s not you, I promise.” She squeezed my bicep. “This is just happening so fast. I need time to process, you know?” Her eyebrows rose, and her big, innocent eyes electrified my soul as effectively as if a bolt of lightning had shot through my limbs.
It’s not you, it’s me. I’d heard different versions of this throughout the years from the women I’d tried to connect with but somehow always managed to fuck up with drugs, alcohol, or those dark wings of melancholy that visited without warning.
But this time will be different. I’m clean, and I’ve learned to fight my inner demons.
Giving her space was something I could do because I had long-term goals for OAS. I stroked her cheek with a thumb. “I understand, and I’m sorry I came on so fast.”
“Don’t apologize.” She waved her other hand in the air. “I like you a lot, Viktor. But I also enjoy how things are right now, of being on my own, answering to no one, and building my career. I know it probably doesn’t seem much to you, but it’s everything to me.”
She was right. I did have a hard time understanding how her simple life could bring so much joy. I paused to think back to my teen years and early twenties, right before Angry Gods became one of the biggest bands in the world. Hadn’t my bandmates and I had a blast rooming together in that little shoebox of a flat, scraping and scrounging for change to buy a pack of fags to share?
Money had numbed and blinded me to some of the most important things in life—fulfillment, purpose, and love.
“I like you a lot, too, Angel. And I’ll do anything you ask if you’ll hang on to my second chance.” I lifted her hand and pressed my palm to hers. Our fingers crushed against one another. “All you have to do is text or call, and I’ll come running, stupid sap that I am.”
A smile lit her face, and I placed a kiss on her forehead, praying my heart would stay inside its cage of ribs instead of leaping into her hands. “Come on, let’s get you home.”