“Well,” she said, rising. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Victor stood as well, both of them stepping forward at the same time, the movement putting them too close to each other.
Belle should have moved back but instead, she looked up, just as Victor looked down.
She ran her tongue over her lower lip when his gaze drifted to her mouth.
All common sense, all self-preservation fled when she caught the slightest whiff of his cologne, mingled with the beer on his breath.
Victor’s gaze remained locked on her lips for a second or ten too long.
And then, just like that night on the couch, his hands lifted, reaching for her.
His large palm cupped the back of her neck as he pulled her forward, closing the distance between them.
Belle didn’t have a chance to consider a single thing before his lips were on hers, kissing her like a starving man who’d just been offered filet mignon.
She gripped his shirt at his waist, her fists closing around the soft material, as Victor’s mouth opened, his tongue finding hers. She swore she could get drunk from his kisses alone.
No man had ever kissed her like this.
Like she mattered.
Like she was precious.
Like his life depended on him stealing every single breath from her body.
Belle released his shirt, her hand rising to his shoulders, her fingers itching to feel his soft, thick hair.
They never made it.
“Fuck!” Victor barked, jerking away from her like she’d given him an electrical shock. It washisfingers that got to slide through his hair, though he did so roughly, enough that she feared he was pulling it out. “Goddammit, Belle.”
She blinked a few times, trying to find her bearings. He had a way of kissing her senseless.
“I…” she said, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”
That was the biggest lie she’d ever told. She wasn’t the slightest bit sorry for that kiss, but she felt like she had to say something in the face of his obvious regret.
“Don’t apologize,” he barked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… This can’t keep happening.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why not, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Not that Victor was going to let her remain in the dark.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
She frowned because, honestly, she couldn’t drag her brain cells out of the lust lake they were drowning in long enough to think aboutanything.
“You think I’m afraid of relationships. Of falling in love because of Amelia.”
Belle had thought that earlier. “Is that what it is?”
Victor shook his head. “No. It’s because of Pip. I won’t do anything to fuck up her life, the stability she has with you and Viv. She lost her father before she was even born, for fuck’s sake. She never got to know how incredible he was. All she’s ever known is you and Viv and me. We can’t do anything that might take that away from her.”
Belle wasn’t sure how a person’s heart could feel two opposite emotions at the same time, but somehow, hers was pulling off the feat.
Because he’d just let her know that her feelings weren’t one-sided, weren’t unrequited, and that felt fucking amazing.
