Wicked Burn(83)

“Why now?” he asked gruffly. He didn’t turn around. “You obviously didn’t think it was worthwhile to tell me anything back then.”

A heaviness pressed down on her chest, constricting her lungs as Vic stood and sauntered over to where his jeans were on the floor.

“I did want to tell you, Vic. You have no idea how much.”

He pulled his jeans up over his muscular ass and fastened the bottom buttons. “Well, it’s all water under the bridge now.”

Niall sat up, pulling the comforter around her as she did so. His cold, calm manner caused a tendril of panic to unfurl in her belly.

“How can you say that?”

He glanced at her, his eyes like liquid steel.

“Don’t you think we’d be better off discussing the fact that we just had intercourse twice and that I didn’t wear a condom?”

Niall’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t been expecting him to say that. She fumbled for something to say. And why in God’s name did Vic have to be feet away from her while she sat in bed, naked and alone, when he asked such a distressing question.

“It . . . it should be all right,” she said shakily. “It’s not the right time of month for me to get pregnant. I should have my period in three or four days.” Her mouth went dry with dread when she thought about him kissing that woman in the parking lot last night. Surely Vic would have worn protection with her, wouldn’t he have?

He peered at her from beneath a lowered brow as he pulled his shirt down to his waist. “I’ve never had sex with the woman you saw me with,” he said flatly, making Niall wonder if he’d read her mind. For a few seconds he just stared at her, the struggle on his handsome face obvious. “The only thing we should have to worry about is pregnancy. I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”

“I was as much to blame as you,” Niall murmured uncomfortably. “But, Vic, I want to talk to you about what—”

“No,” he said abruptly, taking two steps toward the bathroom. “You said that you wanted to tell me back then, but you didn’t, despite the fact that I wanted to be there for you. I wanted it a hell of a lot, Niall! Now you want to talk, but I’m no longer ready to listen.”

Tears stung her eyes. He seemed about as accessible as the summit of Mount Everest to a handicapped person as he stood there looking down at her, his light eyes conveying fire and ice fused. Was it really possible that they’d just been pressed skin to skin while their sexes throbbed in tandem and his face pressed so intimately to her neck?

“So that’s it?” she asked throatily. “We’re just going to make love whenever the mood strikes us and ignore the fact that I hurt you last year by not being honest with you?”

“By not being honest about a particularly important fact,” Vic corrected in a hard voice. “By not telling me the entire time we were f*cking each other that you just happened to have a husband. Did it ever occur to you that I might have strong feelings about sleeping with a married woman? Did it ever once strike your self-centered brain that I might have morals when it came to that?”

Niall’s face collapsed. “I’m so sorry, Vic. That’s why I’ve wanted to explain . . .” Her voice faded. “Do you mean religious morals?” she asked uncertainly. The entire time she’d been with Vic, he’d never once struck her as being a strict adherent to organized religion.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m talking about personal principles. My father ran off with another woman when I was four years old, leaving behind his wife and two kids. My mom was blown away by his infidelity and abandonment even though she eventually got back on her feet and did an amazing job of raising Meg and me alone.”

Her chest cavity felt like it had been filled with tiny pieces of gravel that scraped her lungs as she watched Vic turn to his dresser and open up a drawer. God, that look on his face before he’d turned away . . . like she’d caught the briefest glimpse of a four-year-old child’s hurt and complete confusion at being abandoned by a parent for no apparent reason. Why hadn’t Meg ever told her that this might be one of the reasons for his intense fury at her? The realization that he might be comparing her in his mind to his unfaithful father made her wretched.

“Not all circumstances are the same, Vic.”

He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to them. “I know that. I know that, Niall. But that doesn’t change anything I said before.” He dropped his hands and opened his eyes, meeting her gaze directly. “This is what I can offer you right now,” he said with a grim hitch of his head toward the bed, leaving little doubt in Niall’s mind as to what he meant. “If you can’t accept that, then there’s nothing else to say at the moment. If you can accept that, then what I said still stands. There really is nothing for us to talk about.”

Niall stared blankly at Vic’s six-foot-by-seven-foot bed. It was a small space, yes. But it was a space where he was agreeing to meet with her . . . where he would have to at least acknowledge her existence. If Vic truly cared for her, he would eventually have to face his feelings on this tiny little island that he’d agreed to share with her.

Wouldn’t he?

Niall swallowed convulsively. “All right, then,” she said softly before she rose and gathered her clothing, afraid to think about what she might have just sacrificed by making such a pact with the man she loved.