She might think she wants me but she doesn’t really. Not the way I want her, at least.
It would probably be great for a while. Yesterday proved what my dick has suspected for years. Physically, we are an explosive combination.
Who knows, if we were to go down this road, I might even end up being her first love. But that’s not enough for me. I want to be her last love, too.
And that isn’t something a twenty-three-year-old party girl could ever commit to. Not with someone like me. She needs someone with the same IQ as her. Someone from the same social class. I don’t doubt I can equal her in the bedroom, but if her friends and acquaintances are anything to go by, we are worlds apart.
I wish she’d talk to me.
Though why would she, when I played her body like the sweetest instrument and then the second it sang, shut her down?
Victoria’s shiftpasses without incident, unless you count my numb backside on these shitty metal hospital seats. A few broken bones. One stroke victim. An anaphylaxis. Several cuts requiring stitches.
I remain within eight feet of her at all times. My eyes don’t leave her for a second, bar her brief toilet trips.
So there’s no chance of it escaping my attention when Harrison fucking Hughes and his stupidly coiffed dark hair rocks up next to her, ducking inside the cubicle where she’s writing up her paperwork.
‘Victoria, I’m so sorry about the other day. What a scumbag.’ His rugby player physique slants into her slim one, way too close for comfort. My comfort, that is. Weirdly, she seems okay with it.
‘Yeah, thanks, H. It wasn’t my best day.’
H? What, are they fucking BFF’s now? The guy’s a fucking creep.
My blood boils but I deliberately gaze over her shoulder, like this entire fucked-up scenario isn’t unfolding helplessly before me.
Her chestnut hair falls across her forehead and he sweeps it out of her eye in a gesture that’s WAY too familiar.
‘Did you get the flowers I sent?’ The creep moves in closer. The famousJawsmusic plays on repeat in my head. My pulse ticks furiously in my neck.
‘They’re gorgeous, thank you. I meant to call, but I was knocked off kilter for a few days.’
‘No wonder.’ He shakes his head in exaggerated sympathy.
Seriously? Fuck off, toff boy!
All Harrison’s interested in is getting into Victoria’s knickers. If he cared about her at all, he’d have beaten down the front door with his bare, bleeding fists to check she was okay.
That’s what I’d have done, anyway.
His voice drops to an audible whisper. Narrow, black pupils shoot me a look of sheer unconcealed malevolence.
‘I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve made no secret of my…’ He swallows hard in a cringeworthy show of faux coyness, ‘intentions towards you.’
What is this? A fucking nineteen-forties romance novel? Spit it out, you dick, and let her turn you down - again.
Victoria pats his arm in what looks like an appreciative gesture. She’s about to blow him off. She has to. There’s no alternative.
‘I know, Harrison. Your uncomplicated attention is actually refreshing.’ The glare she shoots me smashes through my sternum.
‘It is?’ His tone sounds as shocked as I feel. Each and every tiny fine hair on my neck and body prick up in an inaudible alarm.
‘Yes. You’ve been unwavering in your affection…’ Her lips rise in a forced, breezy smile.
‘So, will you go out with me?’ He takes her hand in his like he’s making a goddamn marriage proposal instead of proposing to stick his dirty dick in anywhere he can.
Victoria glances in my direction. I don’t look, but I don’t need to. An acute awareness bristles over every bone in my body. And I mean EVERY bone.
She pauses for a second. She’s searching for the words to knock him back gently, because she’s got such a huge heart and she even cares about hurting a douchebag like Harrison.
