Beautiful Hell: A Contemporary High School Bully Romance Page 12

  The doorbell rings, and I expect Erica to answer the door. A minute passes, and there’s nothing but silence. I don’t hear anything downstairs. Wrapping a towel around my waist, water still dripping from my hair, I listen carefully. There’s a second ring, and still no sign of Erica. She’s either in the garden out back, or she stepped out to buy some groceries, otherwise, she’d be here to handle this. So much for cutting half the staff because I couldn’t deal with a crowded house.

  Cursing under my breath, I rush down the stairs just as the third ring echoes through the house. I open the door and freeze, my brain refusing to function altogether. Given that I wasn’t expecting any company, I assumed my towel would send the right message. But Kira stands in front of me, and I’m suddenly and annoyingly self-aware.

  She stares at me, her lips parted and blue eyes popping like sapphire marbles. I suppose the sight of me half-naked was not what she was expecting. My synapses keep firing, but there is no response. Just like at the hospital, when I cupped her face in my hands, struggling like hell not to crash my lips against hers and suck every last drop of saliva from her tongue. I pull in a deep breath. Sometimes it fucking baffles me how even my hatred for her can’t dispel my attraction to her.

  “Elias. Hi,” Kira finally manages, her tongue trailing her plump lower lip. There’s nervousness in her eyes, but there’s something else entirely, too. Something that shouldn’t be there.

  I measure her from head to toe, my right hand firmly clasping the towel. “Kira.” That’s all I manage, inwardly cursing myself. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Can we talk?” she asks, trying to look me in the eyes. I’m guessing she hasn’t seen me without a shirt since that time in junior high when me and the boys messed around with the fire hydrant outside our school. It was one of the hottest months of August ever recorded. I don’t have a single regret about that day. Not even the fact that I’d pushed her against the brick wall so hard that her elbows were all bruised up by the time she managed to get free. That was the third time I’d come close to kissing her. That kiss, however, wouldn’t have been a good one. It would have been filled with anger and pain and would have also ended with a slap to my cheek.

  I pull my thoughts together and step aside, motioning for her to come in. “Sure.”

  Carefully, as though walking on needles, she steps inside the house, following my lead until we’re in the living room. There’s still coffee in the pot on the table, albeit at room temperature by now. “Would you like some coffee?” I ask, and watch as she shakes her head slowly.

  She’s wearing running tights and sneakers. The top brings out her athletic figure – the graceful muscles of a dancer. Her breasts, however, aren’t as bandaged as they usually are in her leotards and with no bra underneath what she’s wearing, it’s impossible to miss the peaks of her nipples. Her shoulders, her arms, her flat abdomen. Her strong thighs… the sinuous curves of her calves.

  I grip the towel tighter, feeling myself harder under the fabric. My cock jumps and I turn away, choosing to stand by one of the windows instead. I’m done trying to control myself, since I obviously can’t.

  “What do you want?” I mutter when she fails to say anything. As long as I don’t look at her, I feel like I’ve got a better hold over the situation.

  “Don’t you think it’s time we had a conversation about… you know, about what happened?” Kira replies, and I’m compelled to turn my head, her blue eyes finding mine with lightning speed. For a moment, I am breathless. What in the world is the matter with me?

  “What is there to talk about?” I say. “You OD’d, and I saved your ass. You’re welcome.” I sound like an ass. But it’s better that than losing control and trying to peel the fabric from her body. Because heaven knows, it’s inappropriate, wrong, forbidden, and it’s the only goddamn thing I feel like doing right now.

  Note to self: Don’t open the fucking door with only a towel wrapped around your waist.

  Again, I try to bring my thoughts to something less arousing. I remember how weak, how delicate she was as I held her in my arms and carried her to my car. I remember her shallow breathing and the fear that almost crippled me. Her breaking the way she did that day is the last thing I want to witness again. So, if I know what’s good for her, I’ll keep my goddamn hands to myself. Her and I are like a match and dynamite – and I’m not sure the kind of explosion we’d be looking at would be the good kind. A beautiful destruction, sure. But also, a beautiful hell.

  “Yes, you saved my life,” her voice so close to my ear startles me, and I quickly turn around. She’s inches away now, her perfume invading my senses and further fucking me up. I didn’t even hear her move. She’s like a cat – quick, graceful, and never to be trusted. “I never thanked you. Not while fully sober and aware of my surroundings, anyway. You left the hospital before I-” she pauses, her gaze fixed on my lips. Her distraction doesn’t seem intentional, but it doesn’t seem avoidable either.

  The kind of heat that fills the room is enough to make the towel I’m holding feel like it’s been lit on fire.

  My cock reacts again. This isn’t good.

  “Elias,” Kira whispers. She’s out of breath, her voice slick with a need for something I’m in no way qualified to supply. When she slowly lifts her heels and leans forward, I swear to all the Gods that exist and the ones that don’t that I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening here. Somehow, someway and for some reason that I will never fucking understand, her lips reach mine. My heart stops. And as she deliberately, but carefully pushes harder against me, it nearly boils over.

  She kisses me, and I can’t find the strength to push her away. She kisses me and every question I’ve never asked flood my mind. My body, however, takes over so quickly, I’m practically dazed. I react. My arms lock around her waist, and I almost crush her against me.

  Moaning softly, she loses herself, and I deepen the kiss, my tongue exploring every hot and wet corner of her mouth. A few years ago, I rubbed a few out while thinking about her in that tight white leotard she used to wear in ballet class—back when she had no idea I was following her around like a lovesick puppy. Before I became fully aware of how mean she could be, thanks to her father.

  I want her to feel me, so I push my hips forward, and she moans again. The frenzy is quick to engulf us both, as the kiss becomes something animalistic and out of control. We devour one another, likely responding to years of pent-up attraction. Feelings we’ve never had the courage to share or act upon. In that respect, and given what’s happening now, we were both exceptional cowards.

  She wraps her arms around my neck, her perky breasts pressing against my chest. If I don’t put an end to this now, I’ll end up inside her, and that just invites a host of new problems into both our lives. Her father would definitely kill me if he finds out about this.

  But I have very little resistance left. I can’t stop. Not yet. She gasps as I pull my lips away from hers and start trailing kisses down the side of her neck. I nip at the skin, leaving little red blotches behind. My hand slips down between us, looking for the hem of her tights. She runs a hand through my hair, tilting her head back as I take my mouth lower, finding the delicate valley between her breasts. My other hand is holding her close. If I break contact, I might lose her, and that would be the end of this. I’m not ready to let go. Not yet. I need a little bit more before I push Kira away. One more fix…

  “Elias…” she moans again as I get beneath her tights and panties and find the very core of her.

  “Fuck,” I manage, my fingers slipping between her incredibly wet folds. She’s so eager, burning white hot with desire. My erection is getting painful, desperate for some kind of release. I can’t. I can’t keep doing this to her, but I can’t stop, either. She feels incredible, her hips moving slowly, swaying toward me as I revel in her arousal.

  I push my middle finger through, finding the epicenter. My palm presses her clitoris, a little cluster of nerves so sensitive that
she sucks in a breath when I push harder while moving my finger inside her. Kira is unraveling, coming apart at the seams, and I can’t get enough of the dark fire burning in her eyes as she looks at me.

  The both of us are nothing more than a runaway train. We’re moving fast, uncertain of what direction we’re headed in, but incapable of coming to a halt. I try to force logic into my mind; try to separate the animal from the man. But the truth is, I’ve always listened to my animal more. Always acted without thinking much of the consequences. Always done what felt good before I did what I knew was right. The more I discover, the more I want her. The harder I get. The tougher it is to ignore the complications that will arise from whatever else we do here today. I kiss her again without relinquishing control over her pussy.

  “Kira,” I manage. “We can’t…”

  Her hand, I’m not sure which, finds my towel. If she takes it off, that is it. I will lose the very last thread of self-control I’ve got left. I wonder what it would feel like to have her fingers wrapped around my cock, her lips slightly open as she prepares to take it all in.

  “Dammit, Kira, don’t!” I snap and break it all off.

  A split-second later, there’s a couple of feet of air between us, and I can breathe again. Kira is panting, her cheeks red as roses, her lips wet and demanding that I finish what I started. My fingers are slick, and I resist the urge to taste the traces of her. It would be something akin to reading her very soul, and it might just send me off the deep end.

  Somehow, this encounter takes a turn for the worse—the unexpected kind. Kira slides into one of the armchairs, her knees weak and her eyes filled with tears. She starts shaking, and I am left staring at her, regrettably horny and unsure of what to do next. She’s crying, and I’ve got a boner the size of Alaska asking for my assistance. My heart’s thumping, too, which is more than I usually get out of fingering a woman. There’s something about Kira… something that sabotages my entire thinking process and turns me into an animal, a predator, desperate to keep her close… to never let her go.

  “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she croaks between hiccups. It’s a straight-up meltdown now, and I was not prepared for this. “I’m sorry…”

  “Kira, what’s going on?” I ask, sounding remarkably calm. With one hand back on my towel, I kneel in front of her, trying to understand what’s making her suffer like this. I quickly realize that I absolutely despise seeing her cry.

  I hated it when we were kids, even when I was the one causing her pain. I hate it even more now.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Kira, talk to me. Never mind what just happened. Talk to me.”

  She looks at me, and there is so much pain, I feel like I’m suffocating. Whatever she’s going through, it’s a lot more complex, and it’s hurting her deeply. “It’s just… I’m a mess, Elias. I mean, look at me. I came here to… I don’t even know why I came here.”

  “To thank me?” I reply with a sly smile, trying to take some of the pressure off her.

  “No. Yes. I think so,” she chuckles softly, though tears keep streaming down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t even be here, but I figured it might do me good to talk to you, to tell you that I really am sorry. That I appreciate you taking me into the hospital. That I appreciate your discretion.” She sucks in a deep breath, shakier than a 9.0 earthquake. “I don’t wanna fight anymore, Elias. I’m exhausted. I’m so fucking exhausted.”

  Every word she speaks has my heart on a race to nowhere, beating frantically and threatening to dismantle my entire judgment. “You want a change…” I say, leaving the sentence open ended.

  She sighs. “It’s more than that. The party, the incident with the pills and the booze… I think it scared me more than I initially thought, Elias,” she says, her eyes searching for my soul. “All our fights… the stupid arguments… and for what? Because our dads hated each other? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, not to me, not to our families. And you and me, Elias, we played along. We wanted to be good kids, to do what our fathers wanted… didn’t we?” I nod slowly, surprised to see such truths leaving her lips—lips which I shouldn’t want to kiss as much as I do.

  “Where are you going with this, Kira?”

  “I… I don’t know. I just… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for messing with you so many times. For being mean. For not being a friend, instead of a Malone foe,” she says, and I know she means it, but then there’s this little part of my brain that clicks back to the past. The part that tells me Malone is low enough to use his daughter against me, even when she’s at her weakest. That’s also the part of my brain that is fucking terrified. I know what it’s like to have feelings for Kira just as much as I know what it’s like to be hurt by her. My defenses should be up for more reasons than one.

  For another moment, I allow the seed of doubt that Sheldon planted in my head this morning to grow a little bigger. I start looking for an ulterior motive—anything to get my mind off the fact that I want Kira. I want her badly, and it’s only after being so close to her that I realize how deeply and how dangerously this attraction runs. She could be the end of me, if I’m not careful.

  I get up, hand still on my towel, and go back to the window. I keep facing her this time, just so she doesn’t ambush me again. My self-control is in tatters, and I won’t be able to resist if we go at it again.

  “As long as your father is in control of Fowler & Malone, I can’t exactly trust you, Kira,” I say, somehow finding the strength to reveal something I know will only serve to upset her. Sheldon wants me to get closer to her, but that would just make everything worse. I’ve got feelings for her. I always have. Ever since that day at the park. And despite the time she kicked me square in the balls and told me that maybe next time I should grow a tougher set of nuts.

  I shake my head, trying to dispel my wayward thoughts.

  I’d rather work on William Malone himself. I’m putting Kira on the backburner for now. It’s for her sake and mine. There’s a war coming, and I don’t want her to end up in the middle of it.

  My eyes zero in on her again when I hear her get up. She has her brows furrowed, a look of hope and fear of defeat contorting her features. “I… I’m not asking you to trust me, Elias. I’m just being honest with you, for once in my pathetic life!”

  “Thank you for your honesty, then,” I reply, forcing dryness into my tone. The more I practice being a dick, the better I get at it. “You should leave.”

  “I’m not my father,” Kira says. She’s shaking her head at me because she knows where this is gonna go.

  As much as it fucking kills me to continue playing the enemy, I don’t feel like I have a choice. Kira might want to drop the role of enemy now, but she’ll pick it right back up the moment I take her father down. And if I give in, if I allow her to think that we can be anything more, she’ll only be left feeling betrayed.

  “Okay,” I say, steeling my emotions and trying to inject as much venom as possible into my voice. “Good for you. Door’s that way.”

  A switch flicks. The desperation is gone and now, written in the lines of her face, all I can see is her anger. I can feel the air thickening between us. She blinks several times, probably wondering if I’m worth a response after this.

  “Fuck you, Elias,” she spits.

  Only a few seconds later, she’s storming through the house and slamming the door behind her. The silence of the house becomes so heavy, it nearly crushes me. Mom used to come from the garden at this hour, arms full of roses to adorn the crystal vases in the lobby and dining area. Dad would be at work. I’d be dragging my feet to get to school, while the maids got my lunchbox ready.

  I miss having a family. I don’t really like the person I’ve become.

  This isn’t where I wanted to be when I was a kid, but I doubt there’s another path left. Ten years ago, I would’ve run as far as my eyes could see once my father died. Now, however… here I am, continuing his work, constantly aiming to dismantle a company and destroy William
Malone.

  “What a fucking legacy I turned out to be,” I mutter and head back upstairs, my balls blue and aching. I might as well call Giselle to take care of that. The last thing I want is pent up desire for the daughter of my greatest enemy.

  12

  Kira

  Two weeks have gone by since my Oxy incident.

  My whole resolve about training for the Nutcracker went up in flames the moment I unraveled in front of Elias. I’d gone there with the sole purpose of making amends. Of getting this major thorn out of our backsides. I wanted a clean conscience. A new beginning. Something to hold onto while I struggled to get myself clean and lean again.

  That effort failed miserably, in part thanks to Elias and his cold… downright heartless demeanor. I’d hoped he’d be more supportive, considering how he encouraged me back at the hospital. I’ve since come to understand that there are many sides to Elias Dressler, and they’re a mixed bag of decent and awful. More often than not, I get the latter from him, instead of the former.

  At school, we generally steer clear of one another. Giselle’s always around, hovering like a moth. Not that they notice me, since she and Elias are always busy checking each other’s tonsils with their tongues. Lorna usually the awkward but mostly silent third wheel—the more days go by, the sorrier I feel for her.

  Madame Olenna sent me a text the other day, saying she wants to talk to me. I think she wants to know if I’m coming back to dance class. I’m running out of excuses now, especially since my doctor has already updated my medical file with the school. It’s one of the things I hate about Trinity High. They have access to too much of our personal information. Who am I kidding? I’m the only one who’s pissed off about this, mainly because it puts me in the spotlight. It forces me to admit that… I’m afraid to start again.