Authors: Lucy Francis
Electricity crackled through the air in the club. Chairs scraped the floor and Curran heard movement around him and a collective holding of breath as he leaned his forearms against his rival’s chest, holding him to the wall. He sensed Victoria standing behind him.
The guy glared at him, then looked over Curran’s shoulder and said, “Does this jerk belong to you, Vic, or can I kill him now?”
Oh, yeah, give me a reason to hurt you.
Curran adjusted his hold on the guy’s shirt, edging him higher against the wall. “Just try it.”
Then Victoria stood beside him, her hands pressing against his shoulder. Her touch sent sparks shooting through his veins. Her scent twined around him, weakening his knees.
“Curran, what are you doing? Let Danny go!”
The beast of his temper faltered at the anger in her voice. Beneath the haze of jealousy, Curran realized how much trouble he’d make for himself if he did pummel this Danny guy and leave him broken and bleeding. He took a deep breath and backed up without releasing him.
The movement allowed Danny to slide down. Once his feet hit the floor, he shoved his hands against Curran’s chest. He grunted at the impact and loosened his hold on Danny’s shirt.
“Victoria—” Curran turned to drink in the sight of her at his side. In that moment, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and ducked as Danny threw a left hook.
He heard her call his name as he came back up, catching Danny in the ribs with his fist. He stopped his other fist when Victoria forced her way between them.
“Curran, stop!” Cold light flashed in her eyes. She thrust a hand against his chest, her heat branding the mark of her slender fingers into him through his shirt. She braced her other hand against Danny and glared at each of them in turn.
“Knock it off, boys.” Anger gave her voice a knife edge. “I’m drowning in the testosterone you two are putting out.”
“He started it.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Danny. “Do me a favor. Be a grownup and walk away. Please.”
I win.
Curran grinned as Danny flipped him off and walked back to the table. His superiority lasted until Victoria rounded on him, eyes blazing, shaking her index finger at him.
“As for you, Curran, wipe that smug look off your face. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, coming in here and destroying my fun with my friends—”
“Your friend wants to get into your pants, Victoria, in case you hadn’t noticed.” He chafed under her angry glare.
She set her fists against her hips. “So what? I’m enjoying myself and if I want to flirt with Danny, I will.”
He stood close to her, her heat drawing him. Visions of pinning her against the same wall and devouring her with kisses danced in his head. He ached to touch her.
Victoria slapped at his hand when his fingers reached her jaw, then pushed against his chest. “Back off, Curran.”
“No. I can’t sit back and watch you with someone else.”
A harsh laugh burst from her. She waggled her left hand at him. “Do you see a ring on my finger? As long as you don’t, I can and will do whatever I please. Besides, you made it pretty clear that you don’t want me, so take a hike.”
“I want—”
“I don’t care what you want. Leave me alone.” She turned and walked back to her table.
Curran gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to grab her as she left him. He glanced at the crowd. Some seemed to be minding their own business, but plenty were staring. A big man, clearly a bouncer, stood beside Victoria’s table, his thick arms crossed over an even bulkier chest.
Curran swore and stormed out of the club, pausing only to collect his coat. He welcomed the icy air hitting him when he burst through the doors.
That certainly went well. He hadn’t lost his temper in years, but his father was right. When he let his temper run loose, everything he did concentrated on the moment, with no thought to later.
He’d managed to refresh his memory of her scent, sharpen his need for her, and make a complete fool of himself in public all at the same time.
Good onya, Curran. Way to go.
* * * *
“What was that all about, Vic?”
“He looked just like Curran Shaw.”
“I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re still together.”
Victoria nursed her hot chocolate, waving off the questions and comments about the confrontation from her friends. Danny sulked beside her, stewing in his injured pride. From other tables, she noticed people throwing her furtive glances and chattering amongst themselves. Great. So much for a fun evening.
Mara gave her a worried look. “Are you okay?”
No, she wasn’t. Curran’s jealousy and the elemental need blazing in his eyes left her heart aching, but his behavior made her ill.
Forget it. The carefree mood was beyond her grasp now. She gathered her coat and purse. “Mara, I’m going home.”
She sighed. “Okay, cuz. Steve isn’t drinking, I’ll get a ride home from him. I’ll call you tomorrow, figure out how to get my car back from your place.”
Victoria nodded then turned to Danny. She pressed her lips to his cheek. “Sorry about all of that.”
Danny shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “I’ll live.”
He squeezed her hand, which made her feel a little better. Then she slipped on her coat and walked away. She needed to get out into the cold before her nausea got any worse.
She hadn’t felt that kind of violence crackling through the air since Nate’s brother lunged at her in the hall after the trial. Her stomach churned again at the memory of the black rage contorting Greg Fielder’s face, the way he screamed at her for ruining his brother’s life.
She passed through the club doors into the foyer. She had to take comfort in discovering some strength in herself. That she hadn’t cowered, but instead put herself right in the middle of Danny and Curran, was a minor miracle.
That she stood up to Curran and he took it was another. Not many men would take such a public dressing-down in stride.
She stepped out into the icy night air and sucked in a breath. She headed for her SUV, watching the ground so she didn’t lose her footing as she went. She rounded the rear corner of her vehicle, looked up and froze.
Curran stood with his back against the driver’s door, his arms folded across his chest. He tilted his head sideways and looked at her, his eyes glittering in the glow of the nearby streetlight.
She swallowed hard against the panic cascading through her. She’d shamed him. Nate was furious, and she’d only argued with him in private, and oh, God, it hurt…
Stop it,
she hissed silently to the chill fear lumped in her stomach. Curran wasn’t Nate.
She stiffened her spine, narrowed her eyes and fixed him with what she hoped was a hard look. “You know, there are laws against stalking in this state, Curran.”
“Very funny.” His voice was quiet, the natural rumble more pronounced than usual. “I want to talk to you.”
He pushed away from the car and stepped toward her. Instinct took her a step back.
Curran halted, and his brow knitted. Hurt flashed in his eyes, hammering a fissure into the armor she’d worked so hard to reconstruct after their breakup.
He wasn’t Nate. She drew a shaky breath and blew it out, steadying herself, then closed some of the distance between them. She tucked her hands into her pockets and leaned against the SUV. “What do you want, Curran?”
“I miss you.” He moved closer, until the toes of his boots touched hers.
Her traitorous pulse tripped. “Do you?”
His gaze traveled over her hair, her face, halting at her lips. “Yeah, honey, I do.” He raised his hands, drew his fingertips lightly across her cheeks and jaw.
Her heart crashed against her ribs in response to his touch. No, no way. He was running on jealousy and hormones, and when he came to his senses, it would be over again.
Curran shifted closer still, moving his feet to bracket hers. He threaded his fingers into her hair, leaving her skin tingling wherever he touched.
“I’m going mad without you, Victoria,” he said softly, tilting his head until his nose nearly touched hers, sliding his hands down her arms, finding her waist inside her open coat. “I feel like I’ve been turned inside out and left to dry. Nothing is quite right anymore.”
Her breath faltered, caught. Every nerve ending stood at attention, straining in anticipation. Her pulse hammered at the emotion churning in his eyes.
“I need you.”
His head dipped, and then his mouth was on hers, and her soul caught fire.
A groan rumbled from deep in his throat, the sound setting off fiery tingles that shot straight to her core, leaving her pulse points throbbing. He pressed for access and she opened her mouth to him, a delicious shudder coursing down her spine as his tongue brushed hers. He deepened the kiss and she twined her arms around his neck, giving herself over to the firestorm whipping between them.
His hands found her backside and lifted her against the side of the vehicle. She ached for him, and without thought, she wrapped her legs around him. His hips rocked against her in response, his erection barred from her only by his jeans and her thin leggings and damp panties. She kissed him hard, then his mouth left hers and he captured her earlobe between his teeth as she tightened her thighs around his hips.
“Victoria, please.” His voice rumbled against her ear. “I want you. Please. Come home with me.”
Part of her soul strained toward the warmth he offered, but at the same time, her brain snapped back into place. In a split second, she processed everything he’d said, separating it from the incredible rush flowing through her body.
She lowered her legs and slid a hand down to his chest, pressing against him. He shifted back, confusion and need lighting his eyes.
“Hold on a second.” Silently she berated her libido, hating her emotional and physical craving for him.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
She pushed against him, completely disengaging herself so she could gel her thoughts together. “Two things. Number one, I didn’t hear an apology of any kind from you, and frankly, you owe me one.”
His eyes widened, but he held silent as she continued. “Number two, why is it everything revolves around you?”
“What are you talking about?”
She clamped down on her need for him, using her anger as the vise. “You only wanted me in the first place because you didn’t think I knew who you were. You came unglued thinking I might disrupt your life with my writing. Now you miss me, you need me, you want me…are you detecting the trend here, Curran?”
His bewildered expression hardened. “This is not all about me.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Oh, really? Tell me, did you ever, in all your misery, consider how I might feel? You broke my heart, you jerk, and I am
so
over you!”
His gaze darkened. “Yeah, I don’t think so. That kiss didn’t feel like you were over me.”
“You kicked my hormones into gear, nothing more. In fact, I should have never given in to them in the first place with you. If I could take back kissing you on Halloween, God knows I would.”
She turned and opened the vehicle door, climbing inside. She pulled on the door, but he grabbed the edge, preventing its closure.
“Don’t tell me you regret that kiss and everything that came after it.” Heat tinged with desperation flooded his low voice, flickered in his eyes.
Anguish pricked her soul, sharp and fresh. “Curran, I regret every day I spent with you.”
This time, when she yanked on the door, he let it go. She glanced at him one last time. His hands dropped to his sides and he stared at the ground. She thrust away the rise of sorrow for him as she reversed out of the parking spot and drove away.
He didn’t love her. Wanted her, yes. Needed her. Even ached for her, if she could believe the expression in his eyes. And that was what really pulled her back, enabled her to leave him standing there, looking dejected.
Better to be alone than with a man who didn’t love her. She had to believe she was worth being loved. She’d cobbled a life together again because she clung to that belief. If she settled for a man who didn’t love her, what was the point?
One thing was clear to her as she returned home. She couldn’t take another round with Curran. No matter how much she craved him, body and soul. She’d trap herself in a relationship without love because of her own weak need for him.
She was worth more than that. If not, she might as well have stayed with Nate.
* * * *
A snowstorm snarled into the mountains before dawn the next day. Curran leaned against the window in the living room, watching the snow fly.
You. You. You. Are you detecting a trend here, Curran?
She was right.
He set his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes.
Did you ever consider how I might feel?
He hadn’t. Until now, after he’d sorted through his memories of her and catalogued her expressions when he confronted her with the article.