Wicked Burn(32)

“What for?”

“You’ll see. Just give them to me and I’ll be right back.”

He grinned when she gave him a suspicious look and the keys at the same time. On the way back a few minutes later he peered into the main entryway of her building, gratified to see a doorman’s security desk in what promised to be a luxurious lobby. At least she had some protection, although he still wished she’d picked a place that was just a little more populated. Funny, he admitted with grim amusement, coming from a guy who preferred to travel miles before he ever saw another human face.

When he returned a few minutes later, carrying a paper bag, Niall was still in the master bedroom, sitting in the middle of the floor, a dreamy look glazing her pretty face. He sat down next to her on the soft carpeting without a word and drew a bottle from the bag.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked, clearly amused.

“I beat up the gangbanger who was trying to steal it from the wino on the corner.” He laughed outright when he saw her eyes narrow in irritation. “I bought it from that store across the street, what’d ya think? It’s not our favorite brand, but it’ll do.”

Niall laughed. “Vic, it’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”

“So? How else were we going to make a toast?” he challenged as he poured some of the Scotch into the paper cups he’d also purchased. He handed her one of them and held up his own. “To your new home, Niall. I hope it gives you all the wide-open space you need.”

The sparkle in her hazel eyes made him unreasonably happy.

“So you like it? The condo?” she asked huskily after she’d taken a healthy swallow of the Scotch. It was one of the many paradoxes about Niall that fascinated him. She looked so damn feminine and petite, and yet she took a belt of hard liquor with an uninhibited sensual relish that made Vic stiff as a board. He’d known the second he’d seen her take a drink of Scotch on that first night that he had to have her. The only thing that had changed in two weeks was that his desire had become even stronger.

“I like it,” he said simply before he tilted back his own cup, his eyes never leaving Niall’s luminous face.

She lowered her cup slowly. “How did the play go the other night? Any monster problems?”

He shrugged. “Nothing of Godzilla proportions. More like lizard-sized. Unfortunately, there was an infestation of the little bastards.”

She chuckled warmly. “Isn’t that always the way with lizards?”

He held her gaze, doing nothing to shield his desire. She glanced away after a tense silence.

“I’m sorry that I missed it. I’ve been thinking about . . . it . . . wondering how it went.”

“All you had to do was knock on my door and ask,” he chided softly.

Her cheeks colored. “I thought you might be too busy with the play and all.”

“Really.”

She blinked in surprise at his open sarcasm. Her mouth opened as if she were about to argue, but instead she took another belt of Scotch from her paper cup. Vic got the distinct impression this one was for courage.

“No, not really. I was avoiding you.”

Vic didn’t respond, instinctively giving her the space that her anxiety warranted. He took another drink, watching her over his paper cup as she struggled with her discomfort. When the unwelcome thought struck him that Niall Chandler might be considering the best way to tell him to get lost, he tilted the cup until the remainder of the Scotch flowed in a burning river down his throat.

“Vic, we . . . things . . . things between us really started off . . .”

“With a bang?” Vic finished for her dryly when she paused.

Her mouth hung open. “Yes,” she agreed after a moment, nodding her head in a matter-of-fact, earnest manner that he found adorable. “With a bang. I don’t really date that much. I haven’t in years, I mean. And then . . . what happened that night happened . . . that night you happened.” She rolled her eyes and took another drink. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I know how to put this.”

“You think I’m coming on too strong,” Vic supplied.

She tilted her head uncertainly. “Not just you. I am, too. I don’t know what to make of it.”

“You think we should back off, take it a little slower?” he prompted. Her eyes flashed warmly, as if she was relieved that he’d found the right words for her.

“Don’t you think that would be for the best?” she asked.

“No.”

Her lower lip trembled. “No?” she repeated incredulously after several seconds.

Vic crumpled the flimsy paper cup and tossed it on top of the bag. She wasn’t going to like this, but—“No. I want you too much to take you in stingy little servings. Maybe you’ll think that’s greedy of me, but I’m not the kind of guy who takes what he wants in half measures.” He met her gaze. “That’s not who I am, Niall.”

Her mouth rounded in a silent, amazed “Oh.” His muscles tensed as he resisted an overwhelming urge to scoot across the floor and send his tongue deep between the lush, round target of her lips.

Shit. Who was he kidding? Could he really ever turn away the smallest morsel she offered him? Not likely. But if he could talk her into the wisdom of f*cking each other’s brains out every time the opportunity arose, then maybe he could purge her from his system once and for all. It made him uncomfortable, this wanting another human being so much.