Madness or Love (Be With Me Book 1) (7 page)

Victoria willed him to kiss her, craved for his touch,
but he just held her in his strong arms and pressed her closer. She couldn’t
move, nor did she want to be away. His eyes were promising the world, but his
lips never touched hers. She saw the shift in his gaze; his better judgment
took over and killed the spark that had ignited the mind-consuming passion. She
couldn’t look away, searching for a grain of truth, a piece of lightning bolt,
but they were gone. He held her like she was a fragile desert flower and his
hands were undeniably the safest place on the planet. And she knew he would do
anything to protect her, even if he had to protect her from himself.

Ian took her head with both hands, and for a second,
she hoped he would surrender to the moment. He studied her face seriously—the
parted lips, the heat on her cheeks, the widened eyes. It took all of his self-control
not to kiss her. It would have been the easiest thing to do, to make love to
her, to claim her full lips, to sink into her warmth. The woman in his arms was
already his, but she deserved better than someone who would leave her in the
morning. She was the most important person in his life outside of his family.
He knew he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt her.

So, he ignored the throbbing of his body and spoke in
her ear. “Time to get you home. You’ve had too many of those funny cocktails.”
He tried to keep his voice calm and forced a smile.

But Victoria wasn’t ready to give up and let go of
him. “No,” she whispered back breathlessly.

Ian could barely hear her soft words, but the
determination in her eyes spoke volumes.

“You are gonna dance with me.” She pulled him closer,
and their cheeks touched. His lips brushed her earlobe, and he breathed in her
scent—wild flowers and summer rain. He allowed himself a fraction of happiness
where they could forget tomorrow and just be.

The band was playing a song about two friends in love:

We can stop at the coffee shop

And make fun of the cops in the parking lot.

We can laugh as we both pretend

That we’re not in love and we’re just good friends.

“Ironic,” Victoria whispered. The words of the song
swirled around, and for a moment, she felt vulnerable and over-exposed. Ian
held her lean body tighter, but a lump was stuck in his throat. His mind fought
his body and the longing in his heart, but with every passing second, his
self-control slipped by. The muscles of his hardened body ached for her. But
although he knew she had all the power to heal and ease the pain in his soul
and groin, he pulled back.

“Home, now!” Ian didn’t wait for an answer but grabbed
her hand and basically dragged her out of the venue. The streets were empty and
deserted, but he got lucky and saw the headlights of a taxi. He expertly waved
a hand, and the car stopped.

“Get in,” he ordered. His ice-cold tone made her
shiver. She sagged in the back seat, defeated by his serious look. He gave the
driver the address, and they drove in silence for a while. Her emotions were
all over the place, and the last thing she needed right now was to cry like
some stupid, insecure school girl. God knew she felt like one, though.

“You are a buzzkill,” she mumbled, trying to hide
behind the poor joke.

“You’re drunk, and I’m taking you home.” Ian’s voice
came out flat with a hidden strain in it.

The words hurt more than they should. “If that’s what
you choose to believe . . .”

He sharply looked at her, and his features softened when
he saw her pale face and the crystal drops in the corners of her eyes. “I’m
sorry, V.” He touched her cheek. “Are you feeling sick?”

“Stop! Just stop,” she said weakly, and looked away.

He silently took her hand and entwined his fingers
with hers. The simple gesture sent her spiraling into an impossible fairytale,
and the throbbing pain in her chest increased. He would never want her. Victoria
wasn’t hurt by his rejection; she could see the effect she had on him written
plainly on his face. It was the knowledge she couldn’t fight his decision and
reasoning that made her heart bleed. The passion that had enkindled between
them wasn’t enough for him, and he was hell-bent to remain in the “just a
friend” category. The streets outside the taxi blurred in front of her eyes.
She had let him too close, and now she couldn’t shake off the thought of them
together.

The car stopped in front of the small bakery, and they
got out, heading to the first floor apartment in silence. She swayed a little,
mentally cursing her shoes. Exhaustion took over her body, and the ground
beneath her feet felt shaky to walk on. He watched her take another wobbly step
and, with no warning at all, scooped her up in his arms. She opened her mouth
to protest but saw his stony face and thought better of it. Victoria made a
face but wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her up the flight
of stairs. Ian put her down when they reached the front door and watched in
eerie silence while she rummaged in her shoulder bag to find the keys. She
found the dangling piece of metal and turned the doorknob. He followed her in
and, with one swift motion, sat her on the olive ottoman. He kicked off his
shoes and kneeled in front of her. His fingers wrapped around her ankle, and he
lifted her foot, expertly unbuckling her black boot. Victoria watched how he
took off both of her shoes and held her feet in his hands with resignation
through the haze in her head. Intimacy and an incredibly erotic vibe enveloped
the two friends. The man she craved was right there at her feet, so close and
so far away at the same time. He looked up at her intense face and the dancing
emotions in her green eyes. In slow motion, he led her to the bedroom. She
wanted to scream, but her voice was gone. Why had she allowed her hormones to
spin out of control? Victoria sagged on the bed, incapable of keeping her eyes
open. The ceiling rolled.

“Oh . . .” she moaned. Maybe Ian was right and she was
drunk after all. “You can go now,” she slurred.

He ignored her words and started unbuttoning her top.
She froze. Any other time she would feel feminine and desired while he
undressed her, but that night the anger on his face frightened her. She had made
him mad for the first time since they’d met. She had crossed a line, and hiding
behind the alcohol wouldn’t make it any better.

In a dreamy haze, she touched his arm. “I think I can
manage this.” Shame washed over her, and she couldn’t find the strength to lift
her eyes. He sighed but turned away, giving her privacy. She fidgeted with her
clothes and crawled under the covers.

Ian came closer and sat on the bed. “Do you need
something?”

You
, a voice screamed in her head so loud that she
winced.  “No, I’m fine,” she said instead.

“Okay, then. I’m gonna go now,” he said softly, and
touched her cheek.

“Stay!” The word escaped her lips before she could
stop it. She opened her sleepy eyes, afraid that she had upset him again. The
anger had vanished from his face, though, and his gentle eyes were glowing in
the dark room.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “Try to get some
sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

She relaxed, comforted by his words, and closed her
heavy eyelids. “Are you mad at me?” she asked quietly before drifting into
oblivion.

“No,” he whispered, and brushed a strand of hair off
her flawless face. “No, I’m mad at myself.”

* * *

The morning came too soon. In the dim
morning light, Victoria opened her eyes and tried to focus. Her fuzzy mind
refused to wake up. She reached out sleepily, expecting to find Ian next to her,
but the bed was empty. A sudden wave of loneliness washed over her, and she
felt the cold creeping in her heart. The memories of last night flashed in her
mind—Ian’s hot hands, his whispered words, the force that had consumed her, the
surrender, the love that had filled her heart. She sat upright in her bed,
gripped by horror. A terrifying question lingered on her lips. Had they stepped
over the line? Had they . . . No! She would remember. Victoria looked around,
partially expecting to find Ian’s clothes scattered on the floor, but the room
did not betray any kind of male presence. She breathed a sigh of relief, and
then the aroma of freshly-made pancakes filled her nostrils. She got up,
ignoring the throbbing pain in her head, and stepped into the open-plan kitchen
and living area. Humming quietly, a dishtowel over his left shoulder, Ian Young
was right in the middle of her kitchen making pancakes. The sight might have
caused a smile on her face just one day ago, but after that night, Victoria
wasn’t sure what to expect. The confusing emotions lingered in the air. Was
their friendship beyond repair?

“Hey,” she said.

Ian turned and opened his mouth to
greet her, but his voice failed him. He stared at her for a moment—a barefoot,
dark-haired goddess wearing a T-shirt dress—before forcing a smile and ignoring
the urge to take her in his arms.

“Hey.”

“You’re still here.” She looked at
him bravely with bright, awakened green eyes.

“You asked me to stay,” he said
simply. He had an enormous suite at a boutique hotel, but he had chosen her
crappy couch. Why? Because she had asked. A glimmer of hope fluttered inside of
her. Maybe there was a way to erase last night’s events, to wipe out the love,
to forget.

“I thought you’d be angry with me,”
she persisted. She needed to know for sure where they stood.

His expression changed to genuine
puzzlement. “Why would I be angry? I had a great night out.” His smile, too
wide to be true, never wavered. She frowned, realizing Ian had made a conscious
decision to ignore her behavior and forget about their moment last night. Her
mind told her she should feel relieved, but the sting in her eyes spoke that
her heart craved more. Not sure how to react, she stood there looking into his
blue, consuming eyes and couldn’t help but imagine the feel of his arms on her bare
skin.

“You probably have a headache.” He
kept up with the small talk and took her hand, making her sit across the table.
The crease on her forehead deepened when his innocent touch sent shivers down
her spine. He ignored that and looked away.

“You’ll feel better after you eat
something.” He put a plate in front of her.

She wasn’t hungry but anxious. “Where
—
” she started, but he cut her off.

“I officially hate your couch. I
think I’ll need to visit my chiropractor after I fly back home.” He massaged
his neck and sat opposite her. She hesitated, not sure if she needed to address
the elephant in the room, and studied his face. He splashed a spoonful of
strawberry jam over his pancake and chewed nonchalantly, seemingly relaxed, and
returned her gaze with a calm expression. She looked down at her plate,
deciding she hadn’t messed up their friendship too bad, and bit her tongue. After
all, he was still in her kitchen and in no hurry to leave.

“You need to eat.” His soft voice
broke her line of thought.

“I am.” She forced a smile and took a
bite.

Ian watched her in silence while she
ate. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked after she had swallowed her last bite.

“It was delicious. I feel better
already. I didn’t know you could cook.”

He gave her one of his devilish
smiles. “Maybe one day, I will cook you a real dinner.” Victoria couldn’t help
but notice the longing in his voice. Why couldn’t everything be easier?

“But, not to my liking, I have to go
back to the hotel. My phone rang a dozen times.” He sounded tired.

“I understand. The promo tour starts
tonight.”

“I know you do,” he said in wonder.
“It doesn’t seem right to leave you right now, though.” Their eyes connected—blue
to green.

“We’ve said goodbye so many times
before. Why do you think it’s different now?” she asked quietly. Victoria
wasn’t sure why she continued to poke him; she didn’t need a confession, just a
reassurance that their friendship was untainted.

“I
—
” he
started, but stopped, abruptly cut off by the phone ringing. “Damn thing!” He
pressed the off button.

Victoria reached across the table and
took his hands. The motion startled him, and he looked hungrily at her. But no
matter what had happened the night before, he was first and foremost her best
friend.

“Listen to me! You deserve every
second of this; you fought so hard. Every decision you made led you to this
exact moment, and every spotlight, every flash, is all yours.”

“You are one of a kind,” he managed,
and looked down to their sealed hands.

“This is what you’ve always wanted,
and I’m proud of you.” A genuine smile lit up her face. “You need to go now.”

Speechless, he stood up, grabbed his
leather jacket, took a few steps, but hesitated in front of the door.

She followed him into the hallway.
“One last thing, though,” she wavered, but the need to know the truth was
stronger. One last question before she could let him go. “Are we okay?” Three
simple words that held a ton of meaning; ten different questions mixed into
one.