Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell

Chapter 40

Viktor Farrow

If she would’ve asked me to set fire to the building, cut out my heart, or slaughter an army, I wouldn’t have asked why. I would’ve immediately rushed out and completed the request if it meant she’d make those low, throaty moans again.

Fuck. She was an angel, and I was the lucky bastard who’d managed to find himself in her grace.

Stretched out on the couch, her back cradled against my stomach, I stroked her shoulder, sliding my fingers over her silky-smooth arm. I pushed my chin into the crook of her neck and placed a gentle kiss on her jaw. “Well, was it good for you?”

“Eh…” Her face twisted towards me. “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?” My entire body stiffened. I mean, I knew I was good in bed. And the way she’d whispered my name—

She burst out laughing. “You should see your face. I love teasing you.”

I skated my palm over her thigh and entwined her fingers with mine.

She blinded me with that sexy smile that always shot straight to my cock. Amusement flickered in the depths of her mocha-colored irises.

My heart thumped, intent on breaking away from my chest to land in her supple arms. “That was bloody cruel, Angel.” I slid my hand, along with hers, towards her naked midriff. “But if you love teasing me, then I suppose I must withstand your cruelty.”

A slight snicker and she shook her head. “It was the best I ever had. Seriously.” With a languorous stretch, she yawned.

I didn’t want the moment to end, even though we should get moving. It was a miracle my bandmates hadn’t tried to bust into the dressing room to gush about the impromptu performance Andy had arranged the day before.

Moving my hand from hers, I stroked the hair at her temple, reveling in the luxurious softness, letting it fall through my fingers. Her sweet scent lingered on my body, and I wanted to bottle it up and hang it around my neck.

“That feels good,” she whispered. “It’s making me sleepy, but I need to get home and feed Marky.”

“That little bugger can wait. He certainly looked fat enough to me. Well-hydrated, too.” I swirled my tongue over her shoulder, dragging it up her neck to give her a little nip.

She leaned into my mouth, a soft groan escaping.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, and that lucky little bastard gets to spend every night with you.”

“Leave Marky alone.” She reached a hand back and pinched my thigh.

“Ouch. Is that how you want to play, you little—”

“That cat had a hard life before I found him out in the desert, abandoned and alone.”

“Fine. I’ll not say anything else about the little demon-cat. Let’s grab a bite, shall we?” I curved an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against me, inhaling the scent of her hair. Vanilla, with a hint of jasmine.

“No, Viktor. I really do need to check on him.”

Sighing, I was enthralled by her smell and my heart hadn’t been so content in years. I didn’t want her to go. She was the only thing I’d ever need again. Words pushed at the back of my throat, demanding I let them out. “Marry me.” Huh? Terror washed over me, freezing the blood in my veins.

Her entire body stiffened then she shoved off the couch and snatched her clothes from the floor. “What? Why?” The skin around her eyes tightened.

Fuck. Me. Why had I said that? What in the bloody hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t even propose decently. “Angel, wait. Stop.” I jumped up and grabbed my clothes, too, sliding on a shirt but keeping my attention on her face, trying to gauge just how much damage I’d created.

After her garments were in place, she wiggled a foot into a boot, using the wall for leverage. “Why the hell would you ask that, Viktor?” Her voice shook and came out as a raspy growl. She slipped into the other shoe. Anger and hurt flashed in her irises.

Frantically, I shimmied into my pants. “I don’t know.” True—I had no fucking clue why that slipped out of my mouth. Maybe those years of drugs and alcohol were catching up with me and I was losing my goddamn braincells. That was the only thing that made sense. “Maybe because I have problems with impulse control? How the fuck should I know?”

“Of all the things to say after everything we just shared.” She paced the small area in front of the couch, holding out her hands and gesturing with each word. “I don’t understand why you’d ask that. You know how my last marriage went. You know I enjoy my life without complications. And neither one of us has even mentioned love. Don’t you think that’s a priority?” Blood suffused her cheeks, except this time, it was from furious indignation, I thought.

“Of course, it’s a priority. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t.” Just come right out and say it, Viktor, you fucking nitwit. I drew a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Angela, and I can’t imagine my life without you now.” There. I’d said it. “For the first time in years, I want something more than drugs or alcohol. I want you. That’s it. That’s all I need.”

“Viktor…” She inhaled deeply and rubbed her temples then let out the breath. “I can’t do this right now. I need to get out of here.” Fear or something similar flashed in her eyes, and she clutched at her stomach. Her face paled.

I really fucked it up, didn’t I? “I’ll get Clive to take us—”

“No.” That single syllable cut me in two.

“But you came with Terri, didn’t you?” I tried to grip her hands, but she pulled away, a tear pooling at the inner corner of her eye.

“Yes, but I can’t ride with you right now. I need space. I’ll call an Uber.”

She needed to get away. From me. I wanted a guitar to smash. Seriously. Instead, I dug deep, drawing on that inner core of will I’d sharpened over the past few years. “Fine, but I’ll take care of it. You can barely hold your fucking mobile.”

It was true. Her hands shook violently. With tenderness, I pulled the device from her clutching fingers and opened the app, ordering a ride to take her home.

To say I was pissed was an understatement, but my rage wasn’t at her. Again, I was furious with that twit ex-husband of hers, for all the horror and turmoil he’d put her through, what he’d done to her, what he was still doing to her. At the first mention of love, she’d almost flown apart.

And she didn’t return the sentiment. Could there be more to it? Was it possible she didn’t love me in return? Mentally, I traced her face. I loved everything about her, from her attitude, to her strength, to her alluring body. Had I pushed too hard and turned whatever she’d felt into a cage?

Without a word, I ushered her to the door and into the hall, toward the back entrance, keeping my hands to myself.

I’d give her anything she needed, even if it wasn’t what I needed.