Vic’s grin faded. “You’re mad. I pissed you off. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to push—”

“I know,” she cut in. “I know you weren’t.”

And because he wasn’t pushing, Livy climbed up onto the island, dropped her arms on Vic’s shoulders, and kissed him.

She kissed him hard.

And she’d have to admit . . . she was pushing.

Vic fell back against the sink, Livy still holding on to him, her mouth still pressed against his.

Shocked and confused, he pried her off, his hands around her waist, and held her out in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“Why?”

“Because I really want to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Vic placed her on the ground and began backing away from her. “Yeah, uh, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Really?” Livy watched him a moment before she began to move forward, matching him step for step.

“And why don’t you think it’s a good idea?” she asked.

“It’s just not a good idea. We should just stay friends.”

Vic kept moving, and Livy kept tracking him around the kitchen. He felt like a cobra she’d locked on.

Livy gave a very small shrug. “You don’t think I’m pretty. Is that it?”

“Are you kidding? You’re gorgeous.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He looped around the island and she was right with him.

“You think my shoulders are too wide?” she asked. “Make me look too square?”

“Your shoulders work fine because you’ve got that long, sloping neck, and surprisingly long legs for your height.”

“Tits too small?”

“Perfect for your size.”

“Think it’s tacky I used tits instead of breasts?”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of sexy.”

Vic’s back suddenly collided with a corner and before he could maneuver out of it, Livy slapped her hands on the counter on either side of him.

Livy gazed up at him. “Can I ask you a question, Vic?”

“If you really have to.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Not exactly . . . unless I made you mad and have no way to protect my eyes and major arteries.”

“You know,” she went on, “Toni thinks you’re shy. But I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I don’t think you’re comfortable around people, but that’s not the same as shy. You’re not desperate to be around people but emotionally unable to connect. You just want people to leave you alone most of the time.”

“Okay.”

“Just like most bears. And the longer I’ve gotten to know you, the more I realize that you live bear.”

“I live bear?”

“Yeah. You live like a bear, which makes me wonder about the feline in you. I mean, Novikov has that weird suddenly growing mane thing he does when he’s angry. But I haven’t seen that with you. I haven’t seen a true, outward sign of your feline side.”

“What is your point, Olivia?”

“I just want you to tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Is the problem that you live like a bear”—she leaned in, lowered her voice even more—“but fuck like a cat? And is that what has you completely freaked out right now? Because the cat in you is the side you can’t control?”

Vic worked hard not to take his eyes off Livy, not to look away. Not to show her any weakness or that there was any truth to her words at all. But she did look away . . . and down at his crotch.

When she finally looked back at his face, she didn’t smirk. She grinned.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, her voice triumphant. “That’s what I thought.”

CHAPTER 15

Vic grabbed Livy by her upper arms and Livy wondered if he was going to pull her close to kiss her or slam her facedown on the kitchen island so he could fuck her raw. She was definitely up for either.

Sadly, Vic did neither. He simply moved Livy out of his way and practically ran out of the kitchen.

Yep. You spooked him, she thought as she followed after him.

True. It wasn’t the first time she’d freaked out a man. In fact, in the past, freaking out men had been something she’d often done for fun. But she’d thought she had a better connection with Vic. Had always thought he’d understood her and liked her despite that understanding.

She guessed she was wrong.

Livy made it into the hallway leading to the front door. Vic was already at the door, but seemed suddenly confused with basic lock operation.

“Vic,” she called out, walking toward him, “you don’t have to leave. I promise to—”

Livy stopped talking, her face too busy grimacing at seeing Vic Barinov finally manage to open the front door but also slam it into his head.

He snarled in pain and stumbled back, and Livy walked quickly to his side. But by the time she reached him, blood was already dripping down his face from where he’d split his forehead open.

She took hold of his forearm with one hand and closed the door with the other.

“I’m fine,” he kept saying. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. And I’m not about to send you out into the Massachusetts cold while you’re bleeding from the head. I’m not that big a bitch.”