“I can only take so much,” I whisper, my voice darkening as I swipe a hand over my stitches and cringe at the sudden rush of pain. It'll scar, that mark. I'm going to fucking destroy those bitches. But then it occurs to me that the boys will probably destroy them first. “How can I go back to class with Kali's voice echoing in my head, her fucking taunting …” I turn away for a moment, painfully aware that Vic and I are alone again. Last time, he kissed me and told me we needed each other. What'll happen this time? “Did you really ask to fuck her in exchange for torturing me?”

Vic snorts and when I glance back, he's shaking his head at me, raking his fingers through his dark hair.

“Jesus Christ, Bernadette,” he says, turning and heading for the front door without answering me. I lunge forward and grab onto his arm, digging my nails into the inked muscles as he stops and stiffens up.

“I have to know why you did it,” I grind out, hating the way my voice sounds, almost like I'm begging. “Nobody else wanted this but Vic. Nobody. It’s too much, too personal, it brings you too close. But he wouldn’t let it go.”

I'm not really sure if I'm even asking him about Kali anymore, but he doesn't know that.

“You think we'd make a deal that big for something so simple as a fuck buddy?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder to look at me. “And with Kali, of all people? I'd hardly need to make a deal to get her to fuck me.”

“You made a deal to get me to fuck you,” I blurt, and apparently that's the wrong thing to say. In an instant, Vic is on me, slamming me into the wall next to the front door.

“You want me to screw you, Bernadette? Will that make you feel better? Will that get you over your self-destructive bullshit?” Vic reaches between us and cups me through my jeans, sliding his thumb over the seam in the denim, teasing an ache into my flesh that wasn't there before.

A gasp slips past my lips, and his mouth twists into an awful smirk.

“That's what you've wanted from moment one, isn't it? To let the man you hate more than anyone fuck you into a mattress. That would complete the cycle, wouldn’t it?”

My breathing is coming in harsh pants, and even though I hate myself for it, I wonder if Vic might actually be right.

His finger traces up and down the seam in my pants, stroking my core into a hot frenzy. He’s so slow, so meticulous, so not like I’d expected. Those ebony eyes of his bore into mine, our harsh breaths mingling. This time, when I reach my hand down to the crotch of his jeans, he’s hard beneath the fabric.

Vic takes me by the wrist and slams my hand into the wall, making me groan.

He looks me in the eyes as he continues to stroke me with his other hand, watching as I come apart beneath the firm, commanding brush of his fingers. I haven’t been touched like this in years, not since Aaron. And the few guys I’ve slept with since, I can barely remember their faces let alone their names.

The way Vic is holding me right now is a warning. When he lets go suddenly and steps back, I feel like I should know better. Every instinct in me says to leave this alone, to back off, to let it be.

“If nothing happened with Kali, why not just tell me?” I demand, breathing hard, shaking. “It’s okay. You used her. You’re using me. You don’t give a shit who you destroy or step on or fuck up, do you?”

In the span of an instant, Vic is on me, spinning me around and shoving me against the wall. He tears the button of my jeans, the tiny piece of metal pinging against the tiles of the kitchen floor. My fingers curl against the hideous orange and yellow wallpaper as he wrenches my jeans down my hips, exposing my ass and the violent heat of my aching core.

The sound of his zipper coming down turns my insides to liquid, and I bite my lower lip.

The feel of his cock is a surprising warmth against my ass, but when he moves to push inside of me, it happens so quick that I’m barely able to take a breath before he’s filling me up. A cry escapes my lips that I can’t hold back, no matter how hard I try. It’s been so long since I had sex, and I most definitely don’t have a safe place to touch myself, so although I’m wet enough, my body’s too tight and Vic is too big.

Pinning my arms above my head, Vic pushes himself inside of me with a rough grunt, and I close my eyes against the brief rush of pain. It fades quickly enough, replaced within the span of a few thrusts to hot, blinding pleasure.

The feeling of having Vic inside of me is equal parts elation and hatred.

I hate him.

I want him.

And I don’t know why.

Victor fills me up with his thick, hard length, taking over everything, shattering me to pieces with his body.

Even though I don’t mean to do it, I find myself pushing back and into him, hot lashes of pleasure tearing through me like a storm. My hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking back against him as he drives into me.

I’m too taut, too hyper-aware to have an orgasm, but Vic comes inside of me with a ragged groan, his hot breath against my neck, the searing warmth of his hand pressing into my hip. When he steps back, I’m too liquid to do anything but sink to the floor, my forehead against the wall, body shaking.

He just stands there; I can feel his presence behind me, this all-consuming demand that I both hate and crave at the same time. The way I feel about Victor Channing, it makes no sense.

“Get up,” he says, but not unkindly. “We need to get back to class.”

That’s right.

Couldn’t possibly risk losing his inheritance, now could we?

Using the wall for leverage, I haul myself up, but there’s a mess between my thighs that has to be cleaned up. Without looking at Vic, I breeze past him toward the bathroom. He didn’t use a condom, I think as I strip down and take a quick shower, careful to keep my hair from getting wet.

It’s hard to bring myself to care.

Instead, I open the door in nothing but a towel.

“I can’t wear these,” I say, tossing the underwear and jeans his direction. They land in a heap at his booted foot as he regards me with dark eyes, his expression impossible to read. Impossible. Just fucking impossible. “I’m not going back to school in cum-stained clothing.”

“Nobody asked you to,” Vic snaps back, snatching the items from the floor and disappearing into the kitchen. A few moments later, I hear the rushing sound of water in a washing machine. When Vic reappears, he can barely look at me, storming past and up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

I lean against the doorjamb and close my eyes, completely numb.

I don’t feel a thing.

That is, until I feel his heat, his gaze, watching me. Always watching me.

Warily, I crack my eyes and find him there, staring at me. For the briefest of seconds, the expression on Victor’s face matches mine. But that doesn’t mean it’s any more explainable or understandable. He’s an enigma, a lone planet floating in a faraway galaxy. Yet if I can discern anything from this moment, it’s that as soon as he’s within my orbit, I don’t feel numb anymore.

“Here.” He hands over a pair of underwear that look brand-new as well as a pair of Prescott High gym shorts. They’re his, so far too big, but at least they have a drawstring. I step back and close the bathroom door, slipping into the undies—dude undies, but oh well—and the shorts. “How are your stitches?” is what he asks me when I open the door back up.