Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(71)

She contemplates me, looking sexy as hell in a pale blue oversized sweater and black leggings that make her legs look incredibly long. And I know for a fact those legs are long. I can’t forget how they wrapped around me while I f*cked her against the very door we’re standing in front of.

I feel dirty, unworthy of entering her home, as she looks me over. I think of what just happened back at my apartment, the argument with Pilar. How I let her maul me and I placated her so I could get away from her and head over here.

Where I’m now supposed to end it with Violet in the most brutal way possible.

I don’t know if I can do it.

You promised.

Pilar’s singsong voice haunts me and I rub a hand across the back of my neck, getting irritated that Violet hasn’t let me in yet. “Am I forgiven?”

Violet blinks at me. “For what?”

“For being late. Or are we going to have this conversation out in the hallway for the rest of the evening.” Not that anyone can hear us, considering she’s the only one on the penthouse floor. The grumpy doorman didn’t bother calling up to get Violet’s permission when I first arrived. He said I was already on the list and escorted me quickly to the elevators.

I’m on the grump’s good side, but it won’t last for long. Not after what I have to do to her.

“Come in.” She opens the door wider and I stride inside, breathing in her delicious scent, glancing around the apartment for the first time. When I came here Friday, I’d been solely focused on Violet and nothing else. Now that I see where she lives …

I like it. The walls are white, as are the couches, but the pillows scattered everywhere are a bright mix of colors and the rug beneath the dark coffee table has a cheerful yellow and grayish-blue pattern. Simple and pretty, the décor fits her.

I can’t help but wonder if this is the last time I’ll be allowed into her apartment.

If you go through with what you planned, that would be a hell yes.

“Nice place,” I say as I turn to face her. That sweater she’s wearing looks soft. I want to get my hands on it, under it, on her. I need to touch her to get rid of the filth and disgust I feel after being with Pilar.

Fuck. I still can’t believe I did that.

“Thank you.” She steps closer and sniffs. Her nose wrinkles. “You smell like perfume.”

Shit. Pilar douses herself with the strongest stuff possible and it’s obnoxious as hell.

Violet moves even closer to me and presses her nose to the front of my shirt. “You’ve been with another woman,” she says dully, starting to back away. I reach out and grab her arms but she jerks out of my hold, her expression fierce. “Don’t touch me. God, you’re just like him, aren’t you? You f*ck other women and then come over here believing you can charm your way into my panties? He warned me you were like this.”

I should have changed clothes. I’m such an idiot. But hell, my time with Pilar had happened so fast. I got her off on my f*cking knee, for Christ’s sake. No clothing was removed. She just happened to get her scent all over me when she rode me like a cat in heat. “Who warned you?”

“Zachary. He said you and Pilar together planned something against us both. You smell just like her. You’ve been with her.” Her face almost crumples, but then she gets ahold of herself and her expression goes smooth. Blank. I recognize that look. I’ve used it plenty of times myself. “You f*cked her, didn’t you?”

“No. Fuck no.” Jealousy fills me. I hate that motherf*cker Lawrence. “And when did you see Zachary?” I can’t believe I just said his *-ass name.

“It doesn’t matter.” She goes to the door and opens it, turning to look at me. Her face may be blank but her eyes are full of fire, and all of it is directed at me. “Get out.”

“Violet.” I lower my voice. Hell, I’ll beg her if I have to. “Let me explain.” I have no explanation. I’m flying by the seat of my pants here and I don’t know what to say to placate her.

“There’s nothing to explain. I’ve been played left and right for the last few years. For most of my life, really.” She laughs, but it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. My f*cking heart—which I thought was made of steel and impenetrable—starts to crack the slightest bit in sympathy for her.

No, not sympathy. I don’t feel sorry for her. She’s hurting and it makes me hurt, too. I want to take on her pain so she doesn’t have to feel it.

“I’m not playing you.” I pull her fingers off the handle and push the door shut, grabbing both of her hands so I can interlace our fingers together. I need the connection. Need to feel her and remind her that what we’re experiencing is real. What Pilar and I have is born of selfishness. It’s ugly and unpleasant, just like most of my life. For once, I want something good and clean and pure. I want Violet. “Not in the way that you think.”

She stares up at me, those big brown eyes unblinking. Damn it, she looks like she wants to believe me and I’m tempted to tell her she shouldn’t. She should run. Get away from me as fast as she can. I’m like a disease that will eat at her welcoming heart until it’s completely destroyed. And I won’t feel an ounce of remorse for stealing it.

Because I want it. I want her heart. I want her soul. I want her body. I want all of her. Fuck Pilar. Fuck her stupid plans. I deserve one last night.