Page 79 of Vicious Behaviors
After the lunch date with my mother, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing Izzie tonight. I knew that she would want some kind of explanation after I walked out on her and left her half-naked in my grandfather’s office.
However, she never showed up. She called in sick and toldNonnoshe was probably not going to be able to come to work any time soon. It was all bullshit. Just a lame-ass excuse so she wouldn’t have to face me tonight.
These are the thoughts rummaging through my head as I continue to throw punches left and right, needing to burn off the fucking nervous energy clawing inside me.
I finally scared her away. But isn’t that what I wanted? For Izzie to disappear from my life and return to wherever she came from?
Yeah. It was. Just… not like this. This isn’t how I expected it to go. And I hate that the reason she’s keeping her distance is because I kissed her.
No. That’s not it. It’s not the kiss that scared her. It’s what happened after.
Fuck.
I never meant for it to happen that way. Never even thought I’d kiss her like that. But once I did, it was like the air got sucked out of the room. As if I’d lose my goddamn mind if I didn’t have her right there and then. She was sweet. So fucking sweet. I wanted to lick every inch of her. Bite her flesh. Mark her with my teeth.
Izzie’s mouth on mine was fucking heaven. But it was the way she rubbed her pussy against my thigh that shattered me. I craved her taste. I needed to know if she tasted as sweet as her kiss. And when she came on my tongue—so soft, so fucking beautiful—it took everything in me not to bend her over my grandfather’s desk and fuck her until she screamed my name.
However, just as I was inches away from losing all control,hesurfaced.
He wanted to ruin her. To take her like a beast. To hear her scream as he fucked her raw.
Still, I didn’t want to share Izzie with him. I wanted her for myself. Only me. And I really shouldn’t want that.
Let’s not forget that this woman is an undercover FBI agent, sent here to dismantle my life. My entire family. My wholefucking world. And yet, when I held her in my arms, I craved her. Craved her scent. Her touch.
The way she ran her fingers through my hair and ordered me to kneel. I was hard as stone before my knees even hit the ground. I could’ve had her. If not for him. I could have had one moment of peace if he hadn’t shown up to ruin it all.
Pissed at him and myself, I asked Gio if I could shadow Dom for the day. Aside from having lunch with my mother, I buried myself in work as Dom’s enforcer. I broke kneecaps, fingers, and noses. I mangled faces and drew blood from every man he put in front of me. Anything to shut up the monster and keep my head clear.
I needed space from him. I needed quiet time to think, so that when I met Izzie at the gym tonight, I’d have a believable explanation on the tip of my tongue.
However, she didn’t show. Neither during her usual morning hours nor tonight. She didn’t flash that pretty face anywhere.
So here I am, beating the hell out of this punching bag just to release the tension her absence stirred in my muscles. Usually, I only get this wound up when my aggression hits its peak. But tonight, every punch is fueled by something else. Fuck.
Do I…miss her? Was my mother right earlier? Am I…smitten?
Requiring answers rather than being suffocated by questions, I pull away from the punching bag and begin heading toward the locker room for a shower, brushing past a confused Jimmy on the way.
“You’re not fighting tonight?” he asks.
“No,” I bite back, gaining a few confused looks my way.
Fuck them. Let them beat each other up for a change. Tonight, the monster has been more than fed, which means I have one night for myself, and I fucking intend to use it.
Less than an hour later, I barge into my apartment and turn on the screen feed for every camera I had installed in Izzie’s house. My stiff muscles relax the minute my eyes land on her, only to stiffen a second later. She is sitting on the floor, leaning against her couch, just staring at a photo of me in her hand.
The last time I caught her looking at my photograph, it acted as an aphrodisiac, igniting a longing in her that could only be satisfied by her touching herself. But not tonight. Tonight, she looks almost haunted. As if she doesn’t understand what she’s feeling for the man staring back at her.
I sink into my desk chair and watch Izzie slowly place the photo face-down on the floor beside her and then cover her face with both palms. And when she wipes tears from her eyes, something in my chest gives way… almost as if it were breaking.
I don’t like seeing Izzie cry. I don’t like it one fucking bit.
Needing to walk off this unknown feeling, I get up from my chair and begin to pace the room, glancing over at the double screens every few seconds like an addict longing for his next fix. I notice that the corkboard with all her case findings is no longer stationed in the living room, so she may have tucked it away somewhere. But she kept my picture. Why? And why the fuck is she crying?!
I pull the strands of my hair while I wear a track into my rug as Izzie stares blankly into oblivion. I’m not sure how long she stays like this, but it must have been a few hours at least.
Eventually, exhaustion wins. I let out a breath, thinking she’s about to go to bed, only to become even more confused to see her pull one of her throw pillows off the couch, drop it onto the floor, and rest her head on top of it. Then, just before her eyes close, she picks up my photo again, her fingers brushing over it as if trying to memorize the feel of me.
