Blasphemous (Torn #3)(70)
Exchanging pleasantries was not part of the agenda. When it came to Bass, I was irrational. Not to mention the bare fact that I was a hurting, still raw, I-want-to-stab-him-to-death bitter kind of ex. So, to keep him alive, I had to keep my mouth shut and pretend the world didn’t consist of a man named Bass Cole.
To keep myself entertained, I counted as the buttons lit up, indicating which floor we were passing through. When it hit past ten, the elevator halted into an abrupt stop, almost knocking me to my side before I managed to grab a hold of the metal bar. Before the bright white lights flickered and died. I sighed with relief when a tiny, yellow glow from one of the corners gave some light in the pitch-black surroundings.
My heart was pounding so loudly that it took me a second to realize that the speaker had a voice coming out of it. When the speaker boomed with rapid French, Bass instantly responded to it, careful not to touch me. Two minutes later, he strode back to his old post.
“They said that we should stay calm and they’ll get us out very shortly,” Bass murmured reassuringly.
Without turning back to face him, I gave a meek nod before leaning against the mirrored-wall.
“Do you mind if I play some music?” I heard him ask, but completely ignored him. “I’m taking your silence as a yes. Great, thanks,” he sarcastically added.
Shut the f*uk up! I screamed in my head.
The idiot chose to play One Republic’s If I Lose Myself. The lyrics grated on me, as if he was doing it on purpose. Come to think of it, he probably was trying to piss me off. I wanted to yank his device and stomp on it with my three-inch heels until it died.
“Can you change that song?” I barked at him, losing my composure. I wasn’t being full of myself, thinking the song was about me. What was f*uking with my emotions right now was the thought of him listening to the music and thinking of Nikki.
“Ah! She talks! As you wish, madam.”
I really was so close to committing murder when he chose another f*uking emo song. Jason Mraz I Won’t Give Up. “What’s with the depressing music? Can you play something upbeat?”
“Hey, I’m feeling sentimental.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes, and, when he didn’t shut the crooning voice off, I snapped, “For the love of God, can you turn that f*uking thing off?”
The silence was welcomed by my nerves.
Counting from one to ten, I tried to calm myself. I wasn’t about to have a breakdown here. I wasn’t going to allow it. My head rested on the side of the panel as I tried to massage my temples.
“How have you been, Emma?” he murmured, huskily. His voice sent tingles all over my body. With my eyes shut, it was easy to get lost in his raspy, bedroom tone. However, he continued to butcher my sanity. “Oh, I forgot. You just keep silence when it’s convenient for you. You were good at that and still are, apparently.”
Oh, he was back to that again. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone for f*uk’s sake? I spun around and faced him like a possessed woman. “Are you blind? You know, you really need to learn when to back off and shut your stupid mouth. Isn’t it obvious that I don’t want to talk to you? Isn’t it clear that I don’t give a rat’s ass about you? I. Don’t. Care.”
“So Greece, us, you coming to my house at three in the morning, all meant nothing to you?” Bass looked at me squarely. His demeanor matched mine.
That was eight months ago! “It did at one point, but I realized that it was just a sex phase. Each woman goes through that. I know much better now.”
“Love and lust are both different, Emma,” he hissed, almost close to me. “When you combine both it’s… explosive.”
I busted out an evil, dry laugh. Oooh, my claws were out. “You think you’re that great? I think not. I’ve had better. You’re mediocre at best.”
Bass thundered like I was tipping him slowly to lose his temper. “You’re skirting on a subject that’s explosive to men, Emma.”
An evil smile pasted on my unperturbed face. “Who cares? Do men care if a woman is tight or loose? It’s the same thing. Who cares if your stud-moves aren’t that spectacular?”
He paused before he arched that hot brow of his, smoldering like a sex god before my eyes. “You’re the first to make such complaints.”
The effect pooled in between my thighs. Cursing inwardly at my treacherous body, I flashed an irritated look at the über-confident man about his sexual prowess. “Oh, right. I bet Nikki praised you all night long, didn’t she?” I snorted in disgust. “Bass! Oh, oh, oh, Bass! You’re so good. Harder, please, Bass! Bass, Bass, Bass! KINDLY f*uk OFF!”
Instead of the expected anger after I mocked him, I found him studying my body, my breasts in particular, before he raised those deadly eyes to me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded like a jealous girlfriend.”
“f*uk! YOU!” I threw my purse at him, so hard, but he inevitably caught it before it hit the floor.
“Why are you getting so worked up? Did I hit a sore spot?” Bass smirked before smiling sexily at me.
That movie star smile was out to murder my pleading vagina. I’d rather die than admit that, though. Nope, over my dead body. Instead, I growled at him like a savage woman ready to kill.
His eyes went to my fists before he raised his perfect brow at me. “Ready for a combat? Hit me. Hit me if it makes you feel better.”