The Rivals - Vi Keeland Page 0,52

thing? You’re such an asshole.”

Weston calmly finished rolling up his second sleeve and finally looked up at me. The smile that spread across his ridiculously handsome face could only be described as sinister. “You are so much more than a thing. In fact, you’re everything. That’s why I have no intention of sharing you.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “That’s not exactly your choice.”

He took a few steps toward me, and my body began to vibrate. “No, you’re right. It’s not my choice who you give your body to.” He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger and gave it a strong tug. His eyes locked with mine. “But you don’t really want anybody but me.”

I was about to argue with him, but we both knew where that would take us. So instead, I straightened my spine and decided to make this conversation useful.

“Why have you been avoiding me the last couple of days?”

Weston looked away. He seemed to consider my question. “Because you’re a nice woman, and you deserve better than a playboy alcoholic.”

“You’re not an alcoholic. You stopped drinking fourteen months ago.”

He shook his head. “That’s not exactly the way it works. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.”

“That’s a technicality, a definition for a word. You’re not drinking anymore. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

He looked up into my eyes. Sexual tension radiated between us, but he seemed to be listening. And I had more I wanted to say.

“And as for being a playboy, are you currently sleeping with any other women?”

Weston shook his head.

“Okay, then. So you’re not currently a playboy or a drunk. Now that we’ve established that, are there any other reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Weston stared into my eyes. “You deserve better.”

“Maybe I don’t want better. You know, I’m pretty much an only child. So if anyone is selfish, it’s me. You might not want other people touching your things. But I want what I want.”

Weston’s eyes dropped to my lips. He reached a finger to my neck and traced my pulse from jawline to my collarbone. “Fine. But no fucking other men while your spoiled ass is getting what she wants.”

I squinted at him. “Fine.”

“Slip off your panties, Fifi.”

I blinked a few times.

He repeated himself, this time more gruff and each word spoken in a staccato burst. “Slip. Off. Your. Panties.”

Goose bumps broke out all over my body. I needed my head examined. A nice, handsome man who wasn’t a Lockwood sat upstairs in the bar waiting to get to know me, and here I was in the dingy basement with a man who’d just referred to me as a thing. Yet my arms shook as I bent and reached under my skirt. Hooking one finger over each side of the lacy fabric, I shimmied my underwear down my legs. Letting them drop to the floor, I stepped out, one dramatic foot lift at a time.

Weston’s eyes glittered. He side-stepped around me to one of the washers and twisted the dial. The machine turned on and began to hum. Turning back to me, he ran his tongue across his bottom lip as his eyes swept over my body from neck to toes.

“Hike up your skirt.”

My eyes jumped to his. “What?”

“Up around your ass. Hike it up.”

I hesitated, but honestly, I was so turned on that there wasn’t much he could ask that I wouldn’t do. Grabbing the hem of my skirt, I bunched it up until the material was gathered around my waist. Standing with everything from my waist to my toes completely on display left me exposed in so many ways.

Weston stepped forward, gripped my waist with two hands, and lifted me off my feet. He carried me over to the washing machine he’d turned on and gently set me on top.

“Spread your legs.”

I opened them a little.

Weston shook his head slowly. “Wider. One leg on each side of the machine. Straddle it for me.”

At that moment, the empty washing machine began to vibrate. It started slow, but quickly ramped up to jumping around like a Mexican bean.

Weston saw the concern on my face and smiled. “It’s fine. An empty washer on spin cycle isn’t going to buck you off, so spread those legs for me.”

It might’ve been the strangest thing I’d ever considered. Nevertheless, I did as he instructed and spread my legs wide enough to straddle the machine, one leg hanging over each side.

Weston smiled. “Now, lean forward a little bit.”

I gripped the front edge of the washing