Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 26

26

MADDENING

Rio

She never responded to my text.

Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting as much. Why would she? The spontaneous, whirlwind of a first time should never have happened. Agreeing to a planned encore is ludicrous. There’s too much bad blood, too much heaviness and ugliness not only in our past, but present day, too. And yet, that’s exactly why it’s so addicting.

Hate sex is…powerful.

Primitive and intoxicating. One taste and the compulsion for more becomes your every thought. Which is why Ivory’s silence isn’t going to deter me from feeding this twisted desire. If anything, it only makes me that much more determined to get her beneath me again.

To hear her moans.

Make her scream.

Leave her quivering and wanting, begging for more .

It’s a maddening feeling to want someone you shouldn’t, and if I have to endure the lunacy of it all—so does she.

Towel slung around my hips, I saunter into my closet for my favorite pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. I’ve gotta be out the door in the next ten minutes if I wanna make it on time. Realistically speaking, I know the chances of her showing up are slim and I’m stupidly wasting an hour of my day on a fantasy of the carnal variety, but I’m banking on the fact she felt it, too.

Not just the connection that’s somehow still tethering us together after all these years, gravitating us toward one another in ways we wish we could ignore. But the sheer intensity of it all. If it were anything but, Saturday night would’ve been another meaningless fuck, and I wouldn’t be on the verge of losing my goddamn mind if I don’t get my hands on her again.

Ding dong!

My brow curves as I stuff my legs into my pants. Who the hell? I don’t have any scheduled deliveries—at least none that I know of—and those closest to me don’t make a habit of showing up here unannounced. Throwing the t-shirt over my shoulder, I head down the long, dark hallway for the front door, mentally running through the list of everything I’ve ordered for the Garden City flip over the last couple of weeks. None of that stuff should be coming here. Unless it’s a new part for my bike and I forgot about it? Can’t say this would be the first time that happens.

A peek through the peephole, however, reveals anything but a delivery .

Nadia.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. Half of me isn’t surprised. Doesn’t matter how an encounter ends—she always comes back. Like a lost puppy begging to be loved. Wrenching open the door, I remain mute as I give her a blatant once over. Messy bun, sweatpants, a t-shirt, not a lick of makeup. Truthfully, she doesn’t need it. Nadia’s naturally pretty, but I don’t recall ever seeing her so… bare.

“What are you doing here?”

Fidgeting before me, she laces her fingers together anxiously. “Can we talk?”

“About?”

I know she can both see and hear the displeasure radiating off of me, and yet still, she asks, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I admit coolly. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

“C’mon, Rio. Just let me in. This won’t take long.” Those crystalline blues beg me to concede.

And I do mean beg.

Rather than shut the door in her face like I want to, I expel another sigh and open it further, motioning for her to come in. “You’ve got five minutes. Talk.”

Nadia squeezes past me into the foyer, turning to meet me head on as I tower beside her and slip on my shirt. “I don’t like the way we left things the last time I saw you.”

Again, not surprised, which only frustrates me more for entertaining her entrance. “That couldn’t’ve been a text? ”

“No. I wanted to talk abou?—”

“It’s all good.” I wave her off dismissively. “I haven’t lost any sleep over it.”

“Wow. Okay.” She tears her gaze away from me to the wall of windows not far away, the view overlooking a sunny skied Central Park.

I’ve seen that look before. Twice now. I have no doubts I’m going to regret asking this, but… “Wow okay, what? What is it you want me to say?”

“That you give a fuck,” she snaps.

“About?”

“Me!” Her eyes bore into me again, serious as ever. “About the fact you used me and then sent me on my way like I don’t mean shit!”

Fucking Christ.

“This again?” I laugh softly, scrubbing a tired—very tired—hand down my face. “How many times do we need to have this conversation before you get it? I’ve never used you, Nadia, nor have I led you on. You knew what you were getting into from the first time. I made that clear.”

“You don’t think the other day in your office files under using me?” she carps, affronted beyond measure, dark brows almost fusing with her hairline.

Something about that expression seems so familiar and yet I can’t place it. Not that it really matters. Just throws me off for a second. “No, I don’t actually. At no point when I texted you did I mention anything about fucking you. I was busy, stressed, and I needed an outlet. If I was looking to fuck you, I would’ve waited to call you until I got home. ”

“Yeah, so you can screw me on the couch and never take me to bed.” Her eyes roll for the Heavens as she crosses her arms over her chest, unraveling the last of my patience along with it.

“Because of that right there,” I point out, literally pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“Because of what?” she bites back.

“The little flicker of hope that allowing you into my personal space will suddenly change everything. If you want more than no strings, cool, you deserve that, but you’re not gonna have that with me, and I’m sure as fuck not gonna stop you from finding it.”

An uncomfortable disquietude falls between us, and you know what? I allow it to linger, to sink in, to fucking fester. I don’t know how many more ways I can tell this girl I’m not locking it down with her without blatantly telling her to go fuck herself. Luckily for her, I don’t have the time to spend another minute on this, and frankly, I don’t care.

This could’ve been a text.

“So you’re really just gonna stand there and let me walk, then?” she questions softly, though the tinge of anger can’t be mistaken. There’s so much more she wants to say, too. It’s clear in the way she’s watching me tentatively.

I nod as sure as ever. “Absolutely. I said a relationship was off the table. You agreed, claimed you could handle it. Considering this is the third time we’re having this conversation, I truly don’t think you can. So go do what you do, be free to find what you want. But don’t stand there and make me out to be the villain in your story when I was upfront before we even jumped into bed.”

Nadia scoffs an incredulous laugh, throwing her head back and all, and starts for the front door without a word. Doesn’t affect me in the slightest. She can be mad all she wants. At the end of the day, she knows I’m right. It’s not until she turns the knob that she shoots me an indignant glance over her shoulder. “You’re gonna regret this one day, I’m calling it now. And when you do, I won’t be there to pick up where we left off.”

I’m really not, but okay. “Duly noted.” I salute her like a grade-A asshole and watch her slip free after muttering a, “Fuck you, Rio” and flipping me the bird.

The second the door slams shut, I feel like I can finally breathe. Sometimes, a steady fuck buddy just isn’t worth it, especially when there’s no intention of becoming anything more. Even rando booty calls can get messy.

Like Ivory, the little voice in my head reminds me—as if I needed it.