Betting on Julia (A Melville Sisters Novel) (Entangled Covet) (15 page)

“I thought we were friends,” she said.

Something flickered in his eyes, a softening but only for the briefest of seconds. He waved a hand down his attire. “Do I look like anyone’s friend? You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Well, whose fault was that?” she snapped. Her anger rising again. “Who came around my place in his pink shirts and his I-need-to-borrow-some-milk routine? And the my-girlfriend-doesn’t-understand-me thing was a great touch.” She stepped up close and jabbed him in the chest. “So Melanie doesn’t understand you?”

She thought he might have flinched again, but then his body went tense.

“You really want to know why I came to see you that morning? Why I pretended to live in that god-awful fucking house in that cutesy little street?”

His face wasn’t expressionless now but wore a sneer of disdain. Something dark moved behind his eyes, and suddenly she didn’t want to know. She wanted to get out of there.

But at the same time, she wanted to reach out to him, stroke away his pain, save him from the darkness. Leloo whined; she wanted to save Bastian as well. But from what?

“Come on, Julia,” he almost crooned the words, low and husky. “Don’t you really want to know why a man like me would make out with a woman like you?”

She swallowed. “Tell me.”

“I made a bet.”

Chapter Fourteen

Shock blossomed across her pretty face, and Bastian wanted desperately to take the words back. Except he had to find a way to make her leave him of her own accord. Then she wouldn’t be back. And that was important, because he didn’t think he had the strength to do this twice.

Aw, poor Bastian. But you do know if you tell her about it then the bet will be null and void.

It was anyway, but he didn’t plan to tell her about the real bet, that would take rather too muc
h of the truth and no way was Julia going to enter into his fucked-up world. He would do her a favor, kill her brother, and her links to this world would be severed. She could have the nice, normal life she deserved. Even if her brother didn’t harm her himself, the connection would always be there, bringing her to the attention of the likes of Dante. She would never be safe, free from danger. He could give her that at least.

Bastian, the saint. Savior of damsels in distress. So you’ll kill the werewolf to free her, but not me. And we’ve been friends for how long?

“You made a bet?” Julia dragged him from his inner monologue. “About me?” Her brows drew together in a fierce frown. “What sort of bet?”

“I bet Melanie that I could get a good woman to say the words ‘I love you.’”

The frown faded as she obviously went over the words in her mind. “Why?”

He gave a casual shrug. “No real reason. We were bored. Melanie thought it would be amusing to see if we could dupe some sweet girl into believing I was a nice guy.”

“You set out to make me fall in love with you? And then what?”

“And then I would have turned around and walked away from your boring, middle-class life. Back to where I belong.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You found me boring?”

“Oh yeah. All that cute vanilla sex. You saw last night what I really need.”

“You’re a very good actor.”

“I know.” She appeared way too calm. He’d expected her—needed her—to get into a temper and run away. Instead, she was studying him intently, and he had to fight back the urge to squirm. She needed to come to the conclusion he was a waste-of-space bastard and leave and never come back. And that thought made him…

Aw, I’m going to cry, really I am. I honestly never thought you had it in you.

“Fuck off,” he growled.

“What?” Julia was frowning again, and he realized he’d spoken out loud.

“Nothing. Look, Julia, it was fun.” He injected as much boredom in his voice as he could. “But it’s over. We both know that. Melanie was right. I have absolutely no use for a good woman.”

He could almost see the thoughts whirling in her head. “I came here to ask you to talk to me, to tell you—”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“No, you don’t. You want me to go, don’t you, Bastian. Why is that?” She studied him, her head cocked to one side. “Are you worried that I might break down, beg you to kiss me?”

“No.” But as she said the words, he was drowned in the memories of her kisses.

You want her, don’t you, Bastian? Why not have her one last time? Why not show her what you really like? She wants it—you know, she’s begging for it.

He clamped his lips closed to stop himself responding to the demon. Because Dante was right. He wanted her with a deep, burning craving. He knew he’d never see her again, and he needed to touch her one more time, hold her, and bury himself inside her so they would become one. For a brief time. Afterward, he would find the strength to do what he needed to do.

“I came here to talk—”

“You don’t need to lie to me. You liked the sex. That’s okay.” He allowed his gaze to drop down over her body, settled his features into his best insolent expression. “You want a good-bye shag? Did you like what you saw last night? Think you want to swap that sweet vanilla sex for something a little more…fun. A little bondage, a little…pain. You think you can take it?”

“You’re trying to push me away. I need to know why.”

“No you don’t. And we don’t need to talk.” Just one more time. “Come here.”

She stared into his eyes, hers were blue like the summer sky over the Caribbean on a perfect day, and he wanted to drown himself in them. For a minute, she stood there as if fighting with herself, and then she took a small step closer, as if she couldn’t resist. She entered his personal space, and his nostrils filled with the scent of her. Fear and arousal all mingled together with her perfume. His dick stiffened inside his pants.

She reached out and stroked her hand down over his cheek. But he couldn’t allow any softness. It might break him. Grabbing her hand, he lowered it to his body, pushed it against his erection.

“Oh.”

Her fingers pressed into him, and he pulsed against her palm. He took a step back, feeling a sense of loss as her hand fell to her side.

Ignoring the weakness, he hooked one finger in the neckline of her sweater and ripped it down the front, revealing the pale pink bra, silk and lace, that framed her full breasts. Her nipples were already tight peaks poking through the lace. His throat went dry and his cock pressed painfully against his fly.

“Strip,” he said, keeping his tone cold. Her gaze flickered up at him, and he thought this time she would back away, turn around, and get the hell out of here and part of him knew that was for the best.

The demon was so close to the surface, Bastian could hear his words almost constantly now, whispered obscenities, filling his mind and body with dark thoughts of blood and sex.

Which would she like, the paddle or the
flogger? Bind her to the bed or the cross?

He shut the thoughts out as best he could. Focused on the woman in front of him. She wasn’t running, though she was chewing on her lower lip, and then her jaw tightened, and she put back her shoulders.

She was going to leave, and he desperately wanted to grab her by the arms and make her stay.

Instead, she reached for the torn edges of her sweater and dragged the ruined garment from her shoulders. She toed off her boots, and her fingers went to her waist, unfastened her jeans, and wriggled out of them, leaving her in nothing but the bra and matching panties. Fires roared to life in his gut, drowning out the voices in his head.

She was so beautiful. Her waist narrow between the generous swell of her hips and breasts. Her cheeks were flushed but she still faced him.

“You know,” she said. “Maybe you’re wrong about me. Maybe I’m not so good after all.” She pushed her shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Maybe I liked what I saw last night. Maybe I want to know what it feels like, and maybe I can give you want you need.”

“Believe me, you’ll never give me what I need.” She’d never say I love you now, so perhaps he should just take what he could get. One last time with no holding back. Whatever she said, she wasn’t ready for that, and afterward she would no doubt run back to her nice little life. “Take off the rest,” he ordered.

This time she didn’t hesitate, just reached behind her, undid her bra, and peeled it from her breasts. Then she slid the panties down over her legs and tossed them on the pile of her clothes. She was naked and the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

“Pretty,” he murmured, his tone dismissive.

Her eyes narrowed and he saw the first flicker of anger.

Anger was good. He relaxed his control just a little and released some of his own anger, felt it rise up inside him, then reined it in. She must have sensed it, or seen the darkness reflected in his eyes because for the first time she took a step back.

He curled his lips into a small smile, then held her gaze as he dragged his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. Her gaze dropped to his chest and something flared in her eyes.

“You’re hurt.”

He glanced down; his whole body was mottled with bruises from last night’s fight. “You should see the other guys.”

But he didn’t want her sympathy. He’d rather have her anger, even her fear. His hand shifted to his waist and he slowly unbuckled his belt, pulled it free, and doubled it over in his hand.

Part of him ached with the need to touch her, hold her. He wanted to stroke every inch of her, kiss her all over, make slow, sweet love to her. Forget the mess of his life.

Oh, pleeease. Excuse me while I throw up. Just remember there are two of us here.

But the rest of him craved violence, needed to make her scream for him. Not for Dante, but for
him
. Maybe the demon had been right all along.

About time you realized it.

Ignoring the inner voice, he slapped the belt against his thigh. She flinched at the crack of leather against leather, just the tiniest of movements. “You really want this?”

She nodded. “I trust you, Bastian.”

At the words, the tension drained from him. He’d fuck her, and afterward, he would kill her brother and make sure she knew it was him, and then he would disappear. And she wouldn’t come searching for him again.

…

Okay so that might have been the biggest whopper of a lie she had ever told. How could she trust a man she didn’t even know, who had lied to her, used her for his own twisted amusement? A bet? She should be marching right out of here, but she couldn’t make herself move. And she couldn’t seem to drag her eyes from the leather belt in his hand. At least he was holding onto the big silver buckle—she was betting that would hurt like hell.

He flicked it against his thigh again and this time she avoided flinching—just. She was so freaking turned on she was beyond the point of backing out. Even Leloo’s snapping and snarling couldn’t stop her. She wanted this; she just wasn’t sure what “this” involved. But her nipples were hard and she was soaking wet and her skin felt so sensitive that the lightest touch would set her off. A flick from that belt and…

“So are you ready to show me just how bad you are, Julia?”

She nodded again having lost the ability to speak.

“Just say ‘no’ and I’ll stop.”

Her anger rose again. Mr. I-Wear-Black-Leather-So-I’m-a-Total-Badass was so sure she was a complete wimp. Well, she was a goddamn werewolf and that made her a bigger badass than he could ever be.

She stalked toward him, saw surprise flicker in his eyes as she came to a halt in front of him. She poked a finger in his chest. It was rock solid. “Are you all talk, Bastian-baby, or are we going to get down to some action anytime soon?”

His eyes were hooded as he reached out grabbed her hand, pulled it away from him. “Don’t touch me unless I say you can touch me,” he growled.

She remembered what Melanie had said last night about her being submissive. Well, guess what? She wasn’t. She knew that now. While she might be a little kinky, and the idea of a little spanking might make her toes curl, she sure as hell wasn’t submissive. She tugged her hand free and jabbed him again. “Or else what?”

She wanted to goad him. He was so controlled. Thought he knew everything. Well he knew about as much about her as she did about him. They were both a pair of goddamn liars. She prodded him again.

He moved faster than she would have believed possible and somehow she was whirled around and slammed back against the solid length of him.

For a second she fought him. Could she overpower him? Probably not—according to Daniel he had taken on two powerful werewolves and won. And if he felt her strength, then he might guess what she was and then he would stop. And she wanted this like she’d never wanted anything in her entire life. She forced herself to relax.

The hand with the belt was fisted against her belly, the other held both her wrists in front of her, and she was pressed against his body, so hot he almost burned her skin. And hurray, what could only be a huge erection nudged her bottom.

He lowered his head and grazed his teeth along the skin of her throat, then bit down at the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. His teeth penetrated the skin and she went completely still, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He was marking her and she fucking loved it. Releasing his hold, he breathed in deeply. “Hmm, I can smell your fear and your arousal…and just a little bit of anger. Are you going to fight me?”

She shook her head, and he released her wrists, his hand sliding up to squeeze her breast. He pinched the nipple sharply and the sensation shot from her breast to her groin, drenching her sex.

With his body, he propelled her across the short space to the sofa, pressed her face down across the back. “Don’t move.”

She couldn’t help a little squirm. This was it. Was she mad?

He took a step back and she groaned at the loss of his body heat. She didn’t dare move but it seemed like an age before she heard the whistle of leather through the air and the belt came down across her buttocks. It hurt.

“Ouch.”

Behind her, Bastian went still. “You want me to stop?”

She peered over her shoulder. “Jesus. Did I say stop? I mean, it’s supposed to hurt isn’t it?”

For a second, humor flashed in his eyes and she caught a glimpse of the old Bastian. Then it was gone and the belt came down again. This time she was ready for the sting, the weird blend of pleasure and pain that heightened all her senses. She tried to analyze it, but then the belt came down again forcing the thoughts from her head until she could concentrate on nothing but the sharp buildup of pleasure, as though she was wound up tight and each strike ratcheted the pleasure tighter until it had to snap. She was whimpering under her breath, her ass raised, needing more, but not knowing what. Then he stopped and she almost screamed her frustration. She peered over her shoulder.

He stood a foot away, the belt hanging from his hand, sweat sheening his naked chest. He was breathing hard and his eyes were dark with desire.

“More?” She glared at him and he laughed, and then all the humor left his face. “Open your legs.”

She obeyed without thinking, closed her eyes, and bit down on her lip, shivers racing across her skin. When the belt hit her between the thighs, every muscle in her body locked up tight. When it came again, striking against her swollen clit, she threw back her head and screamed. Pleasure pulsed through her. She was hardly aware of Bastian throwing down the belt and closing the space between them.