Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) (16 page)

Vivian’s eyes went wide as if she couldn’t believe what just came from my mouth. I smirked at her and shrugged again.

“I could have helped you get that out, you know,” I told her, wiggling my eyebrows.

Vivian let out what could only be described as a She-Ra battle cry and launched herself at me.

Hell yeah!

She wrapped her legs around my waist and her hands went for my throat. She knocked me backwards and we went tumbling. I bumped into the coffee table, pushing it over. The back of my knees hit the couch and I fell to the floor, Vivian on top of me.

I started to laugh, rocking my now happy groin against her, until I saw the look of pure murder on her face. Crap!

Was she honestly trying to strangle me?

“Vivian!” I choked out, shoving her off me. She rolled to her side and sat up, covering her face with her hands.

She went from raging pissed to sobbing mess in less than two seconds. And I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.

When did this go from entertaining to cry me a river? Did I miss something? It was just fucking honey!

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I barked less than kindly. I was quickly losing my patience with this song and dance.

Vivian wasn’t the easiest chick to be around. She was volatile and moody. I never knew whether to expect a kiss or a kick the stomach. She was up and down, left and right. But that’s what I dug about her. She kept me on my toes. We fought. We made up. She screamed, I yelled, and then we’d hump like rabbits.

So the sudden tear-fest made no sense.

Vivian furiously wiped her face and got to her feet. She shook her head when I tried to reach out for her. I wrapped my arms around her waist, trying to make her stop.

I nuzzled the back of her neck, hoping to move us past the ready to kill each other stage to the let’s rip our clothes off and forget this bullshit phase.

“Just stop it, Cole. Just let me go,” she begged, not really struggling, but not leaning back into me either.

Okay, so I really wasn’t getting what the big deal was. Maybe it was the fact that it was almost one in the morning. Or maybe it had to do with the whiskey I had just downed. Maybe it was the serious case of blue balls that had my nuts in a vice. Whatever the reason, I was having a seriously hard time figuring out what was going on.

“Are you really that mad at me?” I scoffed, hardly able to believe that my moronic screw up could upset her that badly. Vivian was made of harder stuff than that. Which is why she was such a cool chick.

Vivian pulled away and I was left standing there, grasping at air. I felt a shift in her demeanor. The vibe in the room was anything but happy, happy, good times. It sucked.

“I’m just sick and tired of feeling like a joke to you! You fuck other girls and I scream and make an idiot of myself. You decide you want my company and I jump at the chance to be there. You feel the need to try your crazy sex shenanigans and I’m your happy little guinea pig. I’m over it, Cole! Freaking over it!” she said firmly, her voice rising.

I laughed. Bad response, I know. But I couldn’t help it.

“Is this for real? You seriously think that?” I asked incredulously. How could I listen to this shit with a straight face when it was so damn ridiculous?

Vivian threw her hands in the air and groaned. “See! This is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Enough was enough!

I pulled the back of her robe and pressed her flush against my front. “Stop it, okay? This is stupid! We’re not here for this shit. We’re here for this,” I murmured in her ear, tracing the round curve with my tongue. I moaned low and deep as I released the tie of her robe and reached my hand inside to find her boob.

I gave it a proper squeeze, followed by a stinging slap for good measure. Vivian gasped and looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes hooded. She was turned on. But she didn’t want to be turned on. I loved it when she challenged me like that.

“Fuck me, Viv. You know you want to,” I whispered, my lips a breath from hers. My hand released her tit and traveled down to the mound between her legs. I tiptoed my fingers to the warm wetness I knew was waiting for me.

“You want me to touch you. You want me to fuck you with my fingers. You want me to make you come all. Night. Long.” I moaned again as I slowly pushed my finger inside her.

Her knees started to quiver and I knew I had her. I closed my eyes as I started to bite down on the still wet skin of her shoulder, while I rubbed my raging hard on up and down her ass crack.

And then she was pulling away again. My eyes snapped open to find her tightening the belt around her waist. Denied again.

And this time, I couldn’t help it. I got pissed. Really, really pissed.

“Since when are you a fucking cock tease?” I demanded, running my fingers that still smelled like her through my hair. I was so aroused it was painful. And no amount of jerking off was going to help.

I wanted sex. With Vivian. Now!

“You are such an insensitive ass!” she hissed and I was officially done with this conversation.

I advanced on her and watched in satisfaction as she retreated until her back was pressed against the wall. I leaned in, my face dangerously close to hers.

“Do you know how many women would
kill
to be here with me right now? Do you get how special you should feel because I chose
you?”
I shouted into her face that was almost at level with mine.

It was a dickish and egotistical thing to say. I should have probably chosen my words a bit more wisely. Particularly if I ever hoped to have this woman in my bed again. And telling her she was one of many wasn’t the way to do it.

But I was so fucking angry I couldn’t see straight. She had led me around by my balls all night and I was sick and tired of it.

I loved the roller coaster. I loved the highs and lows of being around Vivian. But right now, with her indignant fury staring up at me, I wanted to throw something.

So I did.

I picked the lamp up off the bedside table and threw it across the room. It smashed with a satisfying bang on the opposite wall. Vivian didn’t even flinch.

“Happy now?” I growled, curling my hand into a fist and punching it into the wall by her head. Not hard enough to dent or to scare her. But with enough force to make myself clear.

She was sick and tired? Well
I
was sick and tired.

“I’m outta here,” I said suddenly, pushing myself off the wall and away from Vivian who hadn’t moved an inch.

“Where are you going?” she demanded, still clutching that stupid robe tight to her body like a damn shield.

I yanked on my jeans. I grabbed my wallet and room key and threw open the door.

I looked back at Vivian, to where she stood in the middle of the room, looking a mixture of angry, hurt, and confused.

She wasn’t the only one.

I was feeling all of those things and worse. I felt defeated.

Vivian had defeated me. She had worn me down and run me over.

I needed to get drunk.

And laid.

And not particularly in that order.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tossed over my shoulder before slamming the door behind me.

Of course I’d come back. And when I did I’d fuck her into an apology. We’d make up and all would be like it was before. We both just needed to cool down. And I needed to blow off some steam.

Then everything would be fine.

I
thought long and hard about going out and finding someone else to take the edge off the ache in my pants. Something needed to be done before I lost my damn mind. There was only so long I could go without sex and not become certifiable and I was reaching the end of my very short shelf life.

Then I thought about Vivian, who was up in my hotel room, with honey still in her hair and probably thinking of all the ways she wanted to hurt and maim me.

Honestly, what did I owe her? She wasn’t my girlfriend. We weren’t dating. Hell, she barely tolerated me most days. Why she cared whether I was boning some other girl had always been beyond me. Just because we swapped bodily fluids didn’t give us any sort of ownership over each other.

Hunting for some strange shouldn’t bother her in the least.

Hell, she may very well be getting it on with all sorts of dudes back in Bakersville.

Hold up! I had never thought about that possibility before.

I hadn’t spent any time thinking about what Vivian’s life was like when she wasn’t with me. What if she was with someone else?

My gut twisted and lurched at the thought.

What was this emotion churning in my stomach? I felt almost nauseous.

Vivian and the faceless douche started to bounce around in my head, fading in and out like a bad acid trip.

I stood in the hallway, chewing on my thumbnail, a bad habit left over from a shitty childhood. And I obsessed. I let my mind do cartwheels around the guy I just knew Vivian was screwing during her Cole-free hours.

He was probably some stereotypical jock. Most likely a reformed frat freak with a nine to five and a great parking spot in front of his office.

I wanted to kill this unknown jerk off. His face became an amalgamation of everyone I hated. My dad, the guy who cooked meth out of his apartment three doors down from me back in Bakersville. Maybe he looked like Stu, the mailman, who always conveniently lost my new editions of Guitar World.

I took the elevator straight to the lobby and headed for the bar. It was closed of course, but I could see through the glass door that the bartender, a hot little number with bright red hair, was still inside, cleaning up.

I knocked on the glass and waved to get her attention. She made her way over and unlocked the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a small smile on her face. She gave me the typical once over and I knew instantly that she liked what she saw.

I thought about Vivian, who was most likely still up in my room sulking and making a voodoo doll out of my dirty socks and knew this is exactly what I needed to get my head on straight.

“I know you’re closed, but what can I do to convince you to pour me a drink or two?” I asked, leaning my hip against the jam and hooking my thumbs in my jeans pocket.

The bartender ran her hand through her hair and opened the door wider, letting me in. She closed and locked it behind me.

“Let me join you?” she asked, chewing on her plump bottom lip. I ran my hand along the back of my neck, feeling strange all of a sudden.

I hesitated inside the bar, watching as the girl went back behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured us a couple of shots.

She lifted her eyebrows at me, obviously wondering why I was still lingering just inside the door.

“You were the one that wanted to drink. Are you gonna sit down?” she asked, her voice was low and raspy and made me think of all sorts of naughty things.

She wore a tight black shirt and low cut jeans. She ran her tongue along her lip and watched me as I slowly approached the bar.

I sat down on a stool, grabbed the shot glass and tossed the contents back. The slight burn making me shudder. The bartender quickly refilled my glass and I just as quickly drank it.

She chuckled, a purposefully sexy sound and leaned over the bar, pressing her chest up and out for my enjoyment.

“I’m Breanne. And you’re Cole Brandt.”

I blinked in surprise. Yeah, the band was getting bigger but I had yet to experience recognition outside of our concerts and interviews.

“Uh yeah,” I said, running my thumb along my lip. Breanne poured each of us another shot.

“I saw your show last month in St. Louis. It was incredible,” she enthused, running her fingers along the back of my hand.

“I love that song you guys do. Perfect Regret. It’s amazing! And your voice is unlike anything I’ve ever heard.” She was getting her fan girl all over me.

I grinned, liking the adoration. I cocked my head to the side as I regarded her. “Thanks, that’s cool of you to say.”

“Are you here for a show? Are the other guys staying here?” Breanne asked, swallowing the vodka in one long gulp. She picked up a cloth and wiped down the bar, never taking her eyes off me.

“Yeah, we played at a bar in town tonight. It was a great show,” I told her, trying to find my comfort level in this interaction. Normally I didn’t have any trouble talking up people. Girls in particular.

But tonight I was struggling.

I had a good idea of why, or more particularly
who,
had my brain short-circuiting.

Breanne pouted. “I wish I had known. I would totally have come to your show. What a bummer,” she said, her fingers resuming their slow, lazy trek up and down my arm.

“Yeah,” I said lamely.

After a few awkward seconds where any pretense of chitchat dwindled and died, I cleared my throat. “Can I get another shot?” I asked.

“Sure. Anything you want,” Breanne said with a grin that let me know when she said
anything,
she meant
anything.

“We’re playing another bar on Tuesday in Charlotte,” I said, not knowing why I told her that. I didn’t want this girl thinking I wanted her to come. I didn’t give a shit one way or another about her. But I was uncomfortably trying to fill the void.