In Too Deep

Twenty Five

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She was nervous.

It was understandable. She threw away every common sense that she had, and fucked a gangster. Not just any gangster, but their leader. The leader who had traumatized her and her brother. She should feel some kind of remorse. She should hate herself for not thinking with her mind.

But she didn't care. She was not guilty. She was just nervous. How would she react now? What would she say to him? Were they a couple now?

No, just shut up.

When she walked into the warehouse, she felt like everyone knew what had transpired between them, and she was suddenly nervous again, suddenly wanted to flee because she didn't think she could handle all the look she would receive. Despite the advice, she told herself while staring herself in the mirror, that she could do it. She could face everyone.

Fucking Vicious had felt good. No, it was insanely good, and Nova thought if she had always been doing it wrong, or maybe it had been the men, but Vicious, Vicious had made her reach into the stars. He made her crave him. She felt so addicted to his touches and his kisses, and damn, he was good. She almost felt jealous because he had to have been with so many women to become skilled as a lover.

With that thought, she had felt mad, but when he pulled her against him and buried his head in her collarbone, she knew he was not leaving anytime soon. She knew he was the kind of man who fucks another woman and leaves her to succumb to her cold bed. But Vicious stayed, and Nova panicked. The sex didn't mean anything. It couldn't, and it was that panic that sent her to kick him out, and he had left her house right before stealing a heart-wrenching kiss from her lips.

—Which came back to the present. She shouldn't feel guilty about sleeping with him. There was nothing wrong. Everyone does it. And as the seconds ticked by, she was getting more and more nervous, and she needed something to soothe her.  

She knew where to find him. She didn't even need to read the text he had sent her this morning about needing to see her. Okay, maybe she might have read bits of it and couldn't find it in herself to continue.

As the door handle moved, she gripped her shorts and took a deep breath. When the door opened, and he walked out, it wasn't him. The man who called himself Rocco arched his brow when he saw her standing outside the door before he tipped his head down and swept past her. Nova was left to stare at his back before she looked at the door again.

Someone cleared his throat from behind. She turned, and then she was seeing him, fresh out of the shower. His hair was dripping wet, and droplets of water kept falling down his face, and Nova had this brief moment where she wanted to catch the droplets and taste them on her tongue, to see if it would taste like the rest of him had tasted last night. But she still had enough control over herself to instantly placate a neutral expression on her face.

"H...hey," she said, and she should have known her voice wouldn't agree with her decision. And judging by the smirk on his face, he already knew. Vicious gave a lengthy look at her, his gaze lingering on her high heels before following her legs, and where the length of her denim shorts had stopped and the black off-shoulder crop top.

She hadn't known what the hell she was doing and why she decided to dress like this today. Was she trying to send a message that there was nothing between them, or inviting him to take her clothes off again? She knew she's fucked up, and her gist was up. Vicious knew she dressed up for him, and he wasn't ashamed to bask in that knowledge. The jackass.

A smile blossomed on his lips while he stated with apparent cheerfulness, "You ain't gonna go shy on me now, are you? I like my women with a little bit of fire in them." And he wouldn't let her look away from him. He was quick to slip a finger under her chin and directed her gaze back to his.