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Lev
Christmas night I sit in my bathtub, the lights out, the water scolding and the cold, winter light of the lamps in Central Park reflecting off the snow. I swig whiskey from the bottle without feeling the burn. The blunt in my hands slowly burns away to ash, just like my heart, once lit with fire, with passion, love, and hate for Scout, now reduced to nothing but dust.
I feel like shit. Probably look it too. Five days ago, I told her I didn’t want her. I set her fucking free, so why do I feel like I just locked myself in a damn cage?
I still love her. I never stopped, and I’m a fucking idiot. I’ve never been selfless. I’ve never wanted to do the right thing until now, but I don’t even know right from wrong anymore, because this wound? This division I caused between us? It’s fucking torture.
No. I’ve never been selfless. I still don’t know how to be, because I know with one hundred percent certainty, that I did the wrong thing that day at the zoo. Letting her walk away, watching her get in the car with Clive was absolutely the wrong thing to do, and I can’t take it back.
I can’t do shit about it. For the first time in my life I don’t want to be the asshole. I don’t want to hurt her, wound her, because hurting her now destroys me. Every second she isn’t in my arms? It ruins me.
For years, I tormented her. I taunted her with my vicious tongue, and paraded girls in front of her. Hell, I fucked other girls right in front of her. I didn’t think I’d ever see Scout Taylor break, but I did when I told her I wasn’t coming home, and now I feel as bitter and hollow as she does. I know she feels this pain because we’re the same, and there’s no coming back from this. There will be no forgiveness for me, and that’s exactly what I deserve—to hurt the way I’ve hurt her.
I climb out of the bath, wrap a towel around my waist, and head to the bar in the living room for another drink. Someone knocks on my apartment door.
I frown. It’s probably my cougar neighbor, Kennedy, hoping my defenses are lowered by too much alcohol and stuffing. The knock comes again, and I sigh and open it.
“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you, Kennedy, I’m not intere—” I open the door and take in the short trench coat, the patent leather heels, and hint of thigh-highs. Her lips are painted Scarsdale red, glossy and so fucking kissable. I growl appreciatively, and my dick grows hard. “You’re not Kennedy.”
“Like my parents would name me something that pathetic.” Her gaze rolls over me, hungrily, predatorily. She pushes me back and I stumble, caught off guard as she enters my apartment and closes the door behind her. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“What are you doing here, Cub?”
“You didn’t come to Christmas lunch.”
“I told you I wasn’t ever coming back.”
She pouts. “Well, I didn’t have a chance to give you a present.”
“How did you find me?” My brows furrow. “How did you get past the doorman?”
“Clive told me where to find you when he dropped me home last week. And as for how I got past your doorman, I’m hot, young, and female ... duh,” she answers with a bored expression as she steps around me and inspects my apartment. My lips quirk. Scout heads to the window and looks out over the lights of Central Park. “You haven’t offered me a drink.”
“Because you’re underage.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, a brazen smile on her face. “So are you.”
“You’re not staying.”
She unfastens the ties at her waist and slips her jacket from her bare shoulders. She’s wearing nothing but a lacy thong and those sexy AF thigh-highs underneath, and she discards her jacket to the overpriced parquetry floors.
“Are you really going to kick me out in the cold? And on Christmas? Before I’ve even given you your present?”
She turns around, her perky tits and rosy nipples greeting me. I walk toward her, my cock straining against the soft towel.
Her gaze lowers to the obvious fucking evidence of my arousal and her hungry little eyes roll up my body to my face. Her smile is devious. “That’s what I thought.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Cub.”
She steps closer, within reaching distance, but I don’t dare move a muscle as she enters my personal space and presses her body against mine. Her soft tits rub my abdomen, her flat stomach soft and warm against my dick.
I wet my lips, longing for just one taste. “This doesn’t change anything.”
The smallest of creases forms between her brow as she searches my gaze, and I can tell she’s trying hard not to let it show how much that stings.
“If I touch you, it’s one time, for this one night, and you go home in the morning.”
“You’re already touching me,” she says, lowering her gaze to the grip I have on her upper arm.
Fuck. I wasn’t even aware I had a hold of her.
“I mean it, Scout. This changes nothing between us.”
“You think I want you back? This is just sex, Lev. It’s what we do, remember? No feelings, no love. Only hate, only desire, only sex.”
“You never hated me,” I whisper, tracing the outline of her collarbone. It’s covered in a fine gold shimmer, like that stuff she puts on her cheeks that you only see when the light hits her just right. I rub my index and forefinger together, staring at the gold dust.
She’s like my own little Christmas fairy, spreading hope around my apartment, around my heart. I don’t know if Tink realizes she’s entered the enemy’s lair, and I’m as unmovable as Captain Motherfucking Hook.
“And you never hated me,” she says. She’s right about that. I’ve never been capable of hating her.
“Hate is too strong a word for how I feel about you.”
Again, she flinches, but it’s hidden as soon as she shows her hand. “Nice to see you’re still consistent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re still a liar.”
“And you’re still a pain in my ass.” I bring my hand down on the exposed globe of her cheek. The loud thwack rings through the room and she flinches, her back bows, and her tits press against my hard chest. Her crafty hands slip into the waistband of my towel and it falls to the floor. I bunch her panties in my fist and yank them off, ripping the delicate fabric and discarding it. Then I lift her and walk us toward the window. She gasps when her back touches the cold glass, but I pin her there, my naughty little fairy, and show her just how much I’ve missed her.
***
AFTER ANOTHER HOT AND heavy session in the tub, we lie in bed, staring at the snow flurries as they melt against the windows. Cub is tucked in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder, her face and body turned away from me. My front is pressed firmly against her back, and one of my long legs is wrapped over her thighs possessively.
We don’t speak, because there’s nothing to say. I think we both know words would only ruin this perfect moment. I want to tell her that I was a giant motherfucking dick for leaving, for pushing her away, for thinking I could keep my distance.
I can’t stay away.
I know that now. Fuck! I knew it when I broke her heart in her bedroom, and again at the zoo. I’m not a good person. I’m not even a halfway decent human being. To put it bluntly, I’m a fucking cunt. A dumb fucking cunt, apparently, but I’m not so dumb I can’t admit when I’m wrong.
“Cub?” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her neck. She groans. “Wake up.”
“No,” she mummers in a sleepy voice. “My vagina is broken, and I’m not letting you do anal again.”
I chuckle. “You will let me do anal again—trust me on that. One day you’ll be begging me for it.”
She makes a pffting sound and snuggles deeper into my sheets.
“We need to talk, Cub.”
“Talk later. Sleep now.”
“You know you’re cute when you’re worn out. Maybe I’ll just make you come again and—”
She shoves at my head as I move down her body. “Sleep, my dirty prince.”
“I love you.” I shake my head, as if one four-letter word could possibly define everything I feel. “I was an idiot. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this without you.”
“Mmm,” she mumbles.
I chuckle. “Fine, we’ll talk in the morning, but then I’m gonna make you come. Night, Cub,” I whisper into her hair. She doesn’t reply. Her deep steady breaths fill the room and I know she hasn’t heard a word I said.