The Downfall of a Good Girl Page 9

  She blew her hair out of her face. “Thanks for letting me in. I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “It’s one o’clock in the morning. I couldn’t leave you standing on the street.” That was a good enough explanation. And until he knew her reason for coming by in the middle of the night…

  Connor realized he was holding his breath.

  On the top stair, Vivi stopped, and he noticed her knuckles turning white as her fingers gripped the banister. She was totally still, except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Out of breath from the climb? Or…?

  She didn’t move, so Connor didn’t either. He stayed in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. The silence stretched out. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you here, Vivi?”

  Vivi’s eyes flew to his. Damn. That came out sharper than he’d intended. Then that flush began to climb out of the collar of her jacket again.

  “I—I don’t really know.” She sighed, and he thought he heard a small curse. “You know, I probably shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  She turned and started slowly back down the stairs.

  Let her go. It’s really better to just—Even as he was thinking the thoughts his feet were moving, closing the space between them, and he was at the top of the stairs before she’d taken more than a couple.

  “Vivi.”

  She turned, and he held out his hand. It was her choice. He couldn’t make it for her, but she’d come this far and he felt like he needed to meet her halfway. She hesitated, then put her hand in his.

  He hauled her up the last few stairs and pulled her body against his. He could feel her tension, but their bodies seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces and the sensation was electric.

  Vivi’s eyes widened at the contact, and he knew she felt the same electricity. She swallowed hard, then he felt the slow slide of her chest against his as she rose up on her toes and aligned her mouth evenly with his.

  There was the smallest moment of hesitation—one breath’s worth—and then her lips touched his.

  He never knew what to expect from Vivi, and this was no different. Her mouth was pliant and warm, but cautious, gently moving against his.

  Every rational thought shouted at him to stop. This was Vivi, and he had no business kissing her. He shouldn’t want to.

  But he couldn’t have stopped if he tried. She tasted fresh, sweet and, God help him, right. Her tongue slid past his lips, and the tentative touch awakened something primal inside him, beating down all the rational thoughts until he couldn’t imagine not kissing her.

  Vivi’s fingers threaded through his hair as his hands splayed over her back, pulling her weight onto his chest, and he felt the change in her as the kiss turned carnal and needy.

  Without breaking contact, he backed up the few feet into the apartment and let the door swing closed. The sound punctuated the moment as a point of no return. He couldn’t say what exactly had changed between them, or when or why, but the wall had been crumbling and the kiss had reduced it to rubble. It defied reason, but it somehow made perfect sense.

  “Vivi—”

  She stopped him by pressing a finger against his lips, and he lost his train of thought when those blue eyes met his.

  The clear evidence of desire he saw there just threw gasoline on to the bonfire.

  She swallowed hard and her voice was barely above a whisper. “Could we not…actually…talk? I’m about to lose my nerve, and I really don’t want to.”

  He should follow up, not just let that statement slide, but Vivi was kissing him again, and nothing else seemed to matter.

  Vivi didn’t want to think, didn’t want to examine this too closely, because if she did, she’d realize what a fool she was. She just hadn’t been able to shake his words or the feelings those words evoked. Coupled with the echoes of Lorelei’s words—Carpe diem. Be bad.—she’d been showered and changed and on her way before really thinking it all the way through. Her nerve had nearly failed her a dozen times on the short walk from her house to here, but now…

  She couldn’t regret the decision. She might not be able to say why she’d made that choice, but something about the feel of Connor’s mouth on her neck, the caress of his hands under her jacket to the small of her back…it felt good. There was something liberating in this—more than just seizing the day. It was new and scary territory for her, but it felt right, too.

  And it felt good. Connor’s hands were truly talented, alternating between feather-light touches that sent shivers over her to strong caresses that left her knees weak. She might as well let go. It wasn’t like Connor was a stranger, even if he wasn’t what she’d call a friend. That strange place they inhabited with each other seemed perfect for exactly this.

  It shouldn’t make sense, but it sort of did. Vivi didn’t care. Connor had answered the door shirtless, and the skin under her hands felt as good as it looked. The heat seeped through her jacket and shirt to warm her skin. She wanted more, though, not just warmth.

  As if he was able to read her mind, Connor slid the zipper of her jacket down and pushed it off her shoulders. She felt her T-shirt rising until it stopped at her breasts. She lifted her arms as Connor broke their kiss long enough to sweep the shirt over her head. The cool rush of air over her skin was fleeting as Connor pulled her immediately back against his chest. The contact was shocking, yet Vivi wanted more, and she melted into him.

  Her lips traced the ridge of muscle from his shoulder to his neck and Connor growled, the rumble vibrating through her from lips to toes. The world suddenly shifted, making her head spin, but Connor had carried her halfway down the hall before it fully registered, and a second later she felt cool sheets under her.

  Connor loomed over her, those powerful arms bracketing her shoulders, holding him solid and steady, his eyes hot on her body and face. When he finally met her gaze she realized he was giving her one last chance to end this before it was too late.

  She hooked a foot around his leg and slid it over his calf. She let her hands trace the planes of Connor’s chest and felt the tightening of the muscles under her fingers. “It’s already too late,” she whispered.

  The corner of Connor’s mouth curved up. “But I’ve only just beg un.”

  Her blood took his words as a promise, surging through her veins. And Connor made good on that promise, exploring every inch of her with unhurried, methodical intensity until she was whimpering and incoherent. She wanted to bring him to the same place, but her hands were fisted in the sheets as she tried to hang on to the last shreds of her sanity.

  Not an inch of her skin went unmapped by his hands, then by his lips and tongue and teeth. He held her at the edge until she wanted to beg, but she couldn’t find the words.

  Connor was shaking, holding on to his control by mere strings in danger of breaking at any moment. Vivi felt like a flame under his hands—hot and alive and dangerous. Her responses were raw, honest and almost more than he could handle without combusting himself as well. She seemed designed expressly for him: her curves slotted perfectly against him, her skin responded to his touch, demanding more. Vivi’s hands contained electricity. Her mouth…Her mouth did things to him that defied words.

  The need to take her, lose himself in her, was overwhelming, and only the sting of Vivi’s nails biting into his shoulders kept him grounded as he slid into her. Hot…Tight…Wet…The sensations fogged his brain.

  Then Vivi was arching into him, pressing her hips hard against his, seeking more, searching for the rhythm. His hands fisted in her silky hair and Vivi scored tracks down his back. His mouth landed on hers as he quickened the pace, and he felt the tremors building until she broke.

  The contractions and shudders of her orgasm pushed him over the edge himself, and the world dimmed at the edges.

  He vaguely realized he’d shouted her name.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  VIVI lay facedown in the bed. She hadn’t moved other than to brush the hair out of her face since s
he’d rolled away from him. Her breathing had evened out and returned to normal, but beads of sweat still pooled in the indentation of her spine. Connor wasn’t much for was-it-good-for-you? pillow talk, but Vivi’s complete and continuing silence seemed odd. Finally she sighed and rolled to her side to face him. Her brow was furrowed slightly.

  “Deep thoughts, Vivi?”

  “I’m not really capable of higher brain functions yet.”

  He’d take that as a compliment, but he was in a similar state. “That explains your silence.”

  “Actually, that just seemed…” She laughed quietly. “Prudent.”

  “Prudent?”

  “It’s an awkward enough situation, and we’re not real good at talking without it denigrating into something else at the best of times. I’m not keen on the idea of arguing with you while I’m naked.”

  “You do have a point.”

  That earned him a smile. “Plus, it would kind of kill the afterglow, you know?”

  “Well, I kind of suck at the afterglow chitchat anyway.”

  “See? Silence seemed the best bet.”

  “I think I’m slightly offended,” he teased.

  “Why?”

  “Sex but no talking? Just using me for my body?”

  “The tables may have turned, but you have to have more experience in this situation. And you just said you suck at the chitchat anyway.”

  He tried to keep his voice light. “It doesn’t mean that I’m happy to be your boy toy for the night.”

  Vivi rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend you’re that fragile.”

  “I’m a musician. I’m artistic and sensitive, you know.”

  She snorted. “I work with artists every day. I’m not likely to swallow that line.”

  “You’re a hard woman, Vivi.” He rubbed a hand over his face.

  “I try.” She smiled at him.

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Coming from you? Of course not. But I’m going to take it as one anyway.”

  The relaxed mood evaporated and he felt the usual tension building. It was at odds with the lingering scents of sex and sweat. “Because you want to be a hard-ass?”

  Vivi pushed to a seated position and dragged the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Boy, you really do suck at this part.”

  “Maybe we should have stuck with the silence.” His languorous, sated mood was giving way to a headache. He dropped his head back onto the pillow and draped an arm over his eyes. Vivi equaled trouble. Always.

  “I tried to tell you.”

  “But what you haven’t told me is why.”

  “I just did. I don’t want to fight, so talking—”

  “I get that.” He levered himself up onto his elbows. “Why are you even here? Your feelings toward me are pretty clear, so why on earth are you in my bed?”

  Vivi was quiet for a moment. “I could ask you something similar.”

  His pride answered for him. “What kind of man turns down sex?”

  “What kind of man accepts sex from a woman he doesn’t like?” she shot back.

  “What kind of woman offers sex to a man she hates?”

  The sharp intake of breath told him he’d hit the mark. Vivi’s jaw tightened. “I knew I shouldn’t have come. I should have just stayed in a cold shower until the urge passed. Or should’ve just kept drinking until I forgot.”

  “As someone who was doing both of those things when you showed up…”

  She held up a hand. “Maybe now’s a good time for me to leave.” She edged toward the end of the bed, pulling the sheet with her as she went. “I’d say to just forget this ever happened, but I’ll settle for you not bringing it up in public.”

  “Ashamed of yourself, Vivi?”

  He caught the stiffening of her shoulders, the telltale flush of pink across the tops of her breasts. She shot him a dirty look and that supercilious eyebrow went up again. “Well, aligning myself with thousands of other groupies isn’t something I’m going to put on my résumé, you know.”

  Argh. “What is this obsession you have with groupies?”

  “Because I’ve seen you charm people and I prided myself on being immune to it. And then…” She swung her legs off the bed and stood, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the fact she was gloriously naked.

  “Then what?”

  “Then I spent time with you this week, and I started to think that maybe I wasn’t completely right about you. That you’d changed or matured. I fell for it—again—and I shouldn’t have.” Vivi squatted, sorting through the piles of discarded clothing. “I’m going to kill Lorelei,” she muttered.

  That was a bit of a non sequitur. “I’m afraid to ask what Lorelei has to do with any of this.”

  “Nothing. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come, so I’ll just go. I’m really sorry.” Her words degraded into mumbles, but he could pick up the occasional “stupid” and “insane.” He couldn’t be sure which one of them she was refer ring to.

  She was right, though. They should just forget this ever happened. But he didn’t want her to leave. Even though she infuriated him, his body was still primed for her touch. The edge was off, but the need was still there. How had they gotten to this point?

  “Vivi, wait.”

  “What?”

  Vivi had swallowed her pride to come here; he not only appreciated that, he understood how much it had cost her. He should—and could—offer her something in return. He crossed the space and captured her face between his hands. Her eyes widened as he leaned in and kissed her.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since eighth grade.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Because I didn’t want my bleeding head handed back to me.”

  Vivi’s lips twitched at the image.

  “I’ve never been a glutton for abuse.”

  “You like to hand it out, though. At least to me.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  That statement sent Vivi’s eyebrows to her hairline, and he knew once she recovered from the shock she’d be back at his throat again. Right now he really just wanted her to come back to bed.

  “I asked you for a truce earlier tonight, and it was a serious offer.” Especially now.

  “Forgive and forget? Bygones and all that?”

  “The apology was also sincere. Why don’t we just decide that the statute of limitations for childhood and teenage idiocy has expired and go forth acting like grownups.”

  “That sounds very mature.” Her lips twitched. “It might be a hard habit to break, though.”

  “Any current idiocy can still be game. Just not old grudges.”

  The last of the hostility drained out of her. “I think I can agree to that.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Vivi looked at the clothes she held in her hands. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

  He took the shirt she was holding and dropped it to the floor. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

  He sounded like the lyrics to one of his songs. It was embarrassing, but Vivi’s cautious “Really?” made it worthwhile. It was a strange feeling—one he didn’t understand or care to explore right now, though. His body was already recovering, simply from being this close to her.

  “Eighth grade, remember?”

  Vivi’s smile was seductive. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his chest. The smile got bigger as she looked up at him. “You had braces in eighth grade.”

  “So did you.”

  “At least we won’t have to worry about getting them locked together.”

  The clock beside the bed ticked closer to four. Connor was snoring softly beside her, one arm thrown over her stomach, but Vivi couldn’t sleep. She was sated and exhausted; every muscle in her body felt like pudding, but her brain just wouldn’t turn off and let her sleep. Not that her brain was working properly by any stretch of the imagination; it jumped from topic to topic
like a flea on speed, unable to process any thoughts beyond the superficial and not following any kind of logical progression.

  It was frustrating, but it was probably self-defense. Thinking too much about the last week—much less the last few hours—might cause her head to explode.

  She eased out from under Connor’s arm. He rolled over but didn’t wake up, and she exhaled in relief. Her clothes were still a tangled mess, so she grabbed one of Connor’s shirts hanging off a chairback and slipped it on. The scent of Connor’s aftershave drifted up as she buttoned it.

  On tiptoes, she crept into the living room. She knew the apartment well; Gabe Morrow had bought all of the art on the walls from her gallery and she’d been here many times, delivering or helping to hang. Although Connor was a temporary tenant, he’d made himself at home and his things were scattered throughout the room—it wasn’t untidy, but it showed Connor was comfortable here.

  But there was nothing personal—no photos or anything like that. It underscored the fact that she didn’t really know much about the man Connor was now. And it also reminded her that his stay was temporary. That made all of this a little easier to understand, at least.

  The biggest change to the apartment was the baby grand piano that now sat close to the balcony doors. Had Connor had one brought in for himself? To the best of her knowledge Gabe didn’t play, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t decided to get a piano anyway. It would make sense that Connor would want or need a piano in whatever accommodations he took, but now that she knew he was nursing an injury, having a piano here seemed like it would be a temptation or a distraction.

  She smoothed a hand over the lacquered lid. Connor’s parents had a piano in the front parlor—an old upright that half the kids in the neighborhood had banged on until Connor discovered his passion and put it off-limits so they didn’t knock it out of tune. Even she’d tinkered on the keys as a child while her mother and Mrs. Mansfield had coffee in another room. As she’d gotten older, she’d been able to sit in her room and hear Connor practicing next door, mastering everything from Chopin to Count Basie to Billy Joel.