Breaking A Promise
"I swear to God, I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man on Earth."
It hadn't felt like a dare at the time but apparently Lindsey had interpreted it as such. The past four days had been a constant temptation, his casual touches burning her and his deliberate caresses leaving her trembling and wanting. He was such an asshole, forcing her to feel like that when he knew how much she still hated him.
If only despising someone's arrogant high-handed ways and selfish, demanding heart was enough of a turn-off.
Stevie collapsed onto the couch in a crushed heap of chiffon and silk, groaning as she watched her nemesis (that sounded menacing enough, surely) follow her into the dressing room. "Stop stalking me," she demanded through gritted teeth, irritated at how attractive she found him after a show, all sweat and wired energy.
"Stalking? I'm not one of your crazy fans, sweetheart. I simply strolled in here. Casually."
"Stalked like a fucking lion stalks its prey, asshole," she clarified, hating the way the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. He'd always had a facility for precise language and enjoyed using it against her. "As you know."
"And are you the meal I'll be feasting on tonight?"
"Only if I can make you choke to death on it," Stevie replied, trying to scowl fiercely. By the expression on his face, it hadn't particularly worked. He looked more amused than intimidated. "And I'll pray that it's incredibly painful and takes hours."
He didn't say anything more, simply sat down next to her, his legs and his arms and his shoulders all far too big and far too close. When he deliberately reached out, trailing his clever, nimble fingers along her bared leg, she almost jumped.
She was determined not to give him that satisfaction, though. He'd had enough satisfaction a few nights earlier, when she'd finally given in to his taunts and dragged him back to her hotel room for twenty minutes of angry, combative sex against the back of the door. She'd taken great pleasure in refusing to say his name when she came on his fingers.
"What?" she finally spat out, annoyed at the way he was simply watching her. It was disconcerting looking into his eyes, seeing traces of the love and affection she'd always treasured. It didn't seem to matter how much he flaunted Carol Ann or how many inadequate replacements she found to warm her bed at night, she'd come to the conclusion that just maybe it would take more time than she'd assumed to completely let go. Six years apparently wasn't enough...
He interrupted her musings with a poke to her hip and she found the anger welling up again. Righteous fury helped her forget the good times to an extend, thankfully, and so she embraced that feeling, let it show in the tightening of her lips and the furrowing of her brow. He tapped her nose. "You're cute when you're pissed at me."
Stevie inhaled deeply and shut her eyes. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away. His mood suggested that was a wish that wouldn't come true, however. Lucky her.
"Not going to get rid of me that easily, Stevie," he said laughingly, putting his arm around her like they were friends and not exes who occasionally lapsed. "I was thinking that we could - "
Lindsey was as predictable as he was frustrating. "Nope. That's not gonna happen."
He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she winced. "It is, you know," he asserted calmly, and maybe it was the knowledge that he was right that maddened her most. "You can't resist."
She opened her eyes again. Reluctantly. Just so she could glare. "I'm stronger than you think I am." She wasn't, though. Not when it came to him.
"What about if I just - " He kissed her lips lightly, a faint pressure that made her want to pull him closer and kiss him properly, where properly meant making out naked on the couch. Or preferably on a bad. " - do this." He nipped at her neck and she felt it in her stomach, a jolt of pleasure that was equally as delightful as it was uncomfortable. Damn.
"Please," Stevie said, not sure if she was asking him to continue or begging him to stop. Maybe she wanted both. His lips reached her clavicle before hesitating at the flimsy barrier that was her clothing, and she made her decision. Continue. THEN stop. Later on, though, much later on. "Is the door locked?" she gasped as Lindsey struggled to remove her tight-fitting riding jacket. "Please tell me you locked the door."
The jacket was gone and so he pulled her skirt done, the gleam in his eyes enough of a confirmation for her. They'd been caught before but lately he'd taken more precautions, not willing to give her any feeble excuse to stop this insanity, she suspected. "I told everyone we needed to have a nice, long, serious talk about the band's artistic direction and vision. They won't disturb us." His hand and his lips moved slowly up her thigh, and she shivered at the roughness of his fingers on her soft skin. Sometimes it was nice to savor the moment. He pushed aside her underwear.
"Mmm," he said, his mouth too busy bringing her to the brink of pleasure to bother with actual words. "S'good."
And it was good.
"Love me" he urged her.
It was impossible not to.