Wicked Burn(15)

He explained that he’d inherited the farm from his mother’s brother over a year ago. Vic still couldn’t figure out why in the world his uncle Manny had made a specific point of leaving him the enormous farm while Meg, Vic’s sister, was designated as the beneficiary of Manny Padilla’s financial estate. It wasn’t that both inheritances weren’t generous far beyond expectation, of course; it was just that Vic clearly wasn’t a farmer. He’d thought about selling it, not having the time or interest for running a large farm since he already owned a ranch in Montana. But his sister, Meg, and her husband had said they would like to manage the extensive property.

“It’s worked out okay,” Vic said as he accepted the bill from a smiling Louie. “Maybe Uncle Manny knew something I didn’t. I’d already been in talks with the Hesse Theater when I inherited the farm. I guess it’s no secret how much I hate living in the city. They were willing to negotiate the actual amount of time that I spend in Chicago. I brought out some of my horses from my ranch in Montana. Meg and Tom live up at the big house and I live in a cottage that was built for a farmhand and his family years ago. We get along, but if we get sick of each other, we can hightail it to our respective houses and lock the doors. My contract with the Hesse is for only two years, anyway.”

Niall’s eyes crept up to study his face while he was focused on leaving a tip and signing his name to the bill. “Do you have other brothers or sisters besides Meg?”

“Nah, just Meg and me.”

His eyes abruptly leapt to her face, catching her skittish gaze and holding tight.

“I slept with Eileen Moore years ago, Niall. It was after I went through an ugly breakup with a woman I was supposed to marry. I was dead drunk for almost six months after the fact. If you want to know the truth, Eileen probably thought of it as a series of pity f*cks. I was damned pitiful, that’s for sure,” he said with a wry twist of his handsome mouth.

Niall just stared at him for a long moment. His stark honesty always took her off guard, but she was undoubtedly drawn to it. She had no doubt that he stated things the way he saw them. He either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore the fact that Eileen Moore still carried a blazing torch for him. And after having sex with Vic, Niall sincerely doubted that Eileen’s motivation for sleeping with him was pity. But Niall kept that to herself.

Vic surprised her a few seconds later when he reached for the hand that she wasn’t using to sip her coffee.

“I see that you were married before.”

Niall froze in the action of setting her cup back on the saucer.

“What?” she asked.

He lifted her hand. Before she could guess what he was about, he gripped her first two fingers in his right hand and pushed back her ring finger with the other. His thumb made tiny little circles at the tender apex, making Niall shiver with pleasure.

“I can see the outline of a ring here,” he said gruffly, referring to where his thumb rubbed.

“Oh . . . yes, I was.”

“How long ago did you two split?”

“Three years ago.”

The sound of Niall’s husky, low voice caused a burning, tingling sensation of excitement to pass from Vic’s tailbone to the root of his cock. He wondered idly if he could come just from the sound of her voice alone.

Still, it had been strange that she’d said she and her husband split three years ago. The imprint on her ring finger, the paleness where the sun never shone, would have argued for something more recent. Maybe she’d worn her wedding ring for years after they’d divorced, hoping that one day they’d get back together.

That would be something he and Niall had in common. Didn’t the psychotherapist that he saw for a year after he broke up with Jenny always tell him that his actions, more so than his words, were those of a man who was holding out hope for lost love?

Yeah, right.

As if Jenny would ever think of leaving Mr. Smooth Hollywood Producer for a man who would rather eat his dinner in the saddle than at a restaurant like the nauseatingly trendy one that Mr. Smooth owned—among myriad other properties and businesses—in Los Angeles.

Who f*cking cared about Jenny anyway, when such a beautiful woman stared up at him with phenomenally sexy eyes?

Vic felt Niall’s indrawn breath on his knuckle when he reached up and pressed a thumb to her lush lower lip. Her mouth was the same color as her nipples—a lush, dark pink that became red under the ministrations of his teeth and tongue. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d jerked off in the past twelve days while he pictured her pointed, rosy nipples trembling slightly as he’d pounded into her tight little body.

“I want you again, Niall. I have every second since you walked out my front door the other day,” he admitted quietly.

Her eyes cast downward, but almost immediately leapt back up to consider him through thick eyelashes. He’d been in varying states of arousal since Niall first walked into Louie’s tonight, looking fresh and sexy in a pair of jeans and high-heeled boots. But that single, shy, seductive glance made him harden into full, leaden readiness. When she started to speak, Vic transferred his hand from her mouth to the side of her neck, where he refamiliarized himself with the incredible silkiness of her skin.

“You told me to leave. You sounded so . . . hard,” she whispered.

His fingers sank into the soft hair at her nape. His movements were causing the fresh, fruity scent of her shampoo to drift up to his appreciative nose.