"You still here, Summers?"
Spike barely disguised the hatred in his voice as he studied the girl.
He was intrigued.
He could well imagine why she had rushed in his office - obviously she had seen the newspaper draft coming out the next day and didn't like the changes made - but he did not understand what the bloody hell was she still doing there. He could have sworn that in front of the scene she was presented with, she would have run like hell being the little hypocrite he knew her to be.
Instead she stood motionless as a statue, looking at him with those big green eyes sparkling. And those full lips, soft... inviting...
Spike gritted his teeth, stopping the annoying course of his thoughts, and averted his gaze from her mouth. The fact that, despite everything, he was still susceptible to her beauty, sent him into a rage, causing him to lose the little self-control he had.
"What?! Cat got your tongue?" He asked again, and this time his voice revealed all his anger, all his hatred.
Buffy gasped, as if he had struck her physically, and he could feel her bewilderment.
Watch it, mate! It is still too early to show your cards off!
With an effort, he made his expression soften and gave her a friendly smile.
She blinked, even more confused, but after a few moments of silence, seemed to recover her nerve and confronted him with a resolved face. "I came to talk to you about your article. I want to know what you told Finn to get him to publish it instead of mine! "
Bloody fucking bitch.
She didn't think, not for one bloody minute, that his work could be better than hers! Well, of course not, a miserable good for nothing such as he was, was bound to have plotted to see his work be preferred to that of the insuperable Buffy Summers!
Okay, it was true, he really had plotted ... but, bloody hell, that she could not know for sure! It didn't stop her to look down on him, though.
Bitch. Bloody fucking bitch.
'You are beneath me.'
The words came back from the past to taunt him and Spike had to swallow the bile that had risen in his mouth. Faking a smile, he disguised his desire to grab her by the throat and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze...
"Oh, so that's all. You just come to pump me for information?"
"What else would I want to pump you for?" She said and at once blushed violently to the unintended double meaning of that phrase.
Spike jumped at the opportunity he was presented with and smirked, deliberately arching the tongue against the upper teeth in a lewd gesture. "Thank you, pet, but I'm okay for the night. Though, if tomorrow the offer still stands... "
He just wanted to provoke her and have some fun at her expense, which he had done often and with great success in those two months at the SWP, but to his surprise the result he got was far more satisfying.
Buffy let out a strangled sound and took a step back, hitting her shoulder against the wall. "W-what? Where... where did you ever get this idea? Y-you ... you're revolting. You disgust me and the thought of ... God, that's gross ... "
While listening to her scrambling her contempt, first thought going through his head was 'lady doth protest too much'. Um ... could it be that ...?
Ignoring her stuttering invectives, he studied her carefully, head bowed and eyes narrowed. Buffy's cheeks were flushed, her green eyes wandering restlessly to avoid his, her breasts heaving... and what about those two sharp edges pressing against the fabric of her blouse?
Well I never...!
She had to notice the direction of his gaze, because she rushed to shield herself with her arms. Her facial expression was eloquent, revealing her shame and guilt.
Spike's face split in a smug grin, as he made the heady discovering that Buffy Summers was wetting her pants because of him.
What a bloody revelation!
He stood unmoving for some moments to absorb the news. Only for a few moments, though: he didn't need too much thought to understand that, if he got it right, this would be an added weapon in his personal war against her. A quite powerful one, also.
Not that he didn't have enough weapons: he already had what he needed to destroy Riley Finn and maybe sink the entire joint, but truth was he didn't give a damn to bust Buffy's relationship with the tosser or rip apart everything she ever devised in her life.
No, it wasn't enough to destroy her career, her world.
The one thing he craved above everything else was to destroy her.
Buffy was confused.
She had burst in his office full of righteous rage and with every intention to grab him by the neck - figuratively speaking, of course. Yet she found herself trembling like a teenager with no experience.
When did it happen? When did the evil fiend stop being a simple pain in the ass to become the object of her desire? She wanted to deny it with everything she had, but the moistness between her thighs was a blatant evidence.
Suddenly, she remembered all the times she got goose bumps because of his nearness, and how she used to tense in his presence. Until that moment, she had thought it was to be ascribed to the distaste she felt for him, but now…
God, it was horrible. Wrong! Not only because she was engaged... but because of who he was.
Spike Pratt! A conceived asshole, a dickhead trying to get in the pants of every each girl he came across, a sadistic who, since the first day, had done his best to hinder her at work and harass her with his meanness.
Furthermost, he seemed to hate her with all his might. Just as had happened a few moments before, she had often surprised in his eyes a look so malevolent it took away her breath. Yes, he hated her... but why?
She had so many reasons to despise him, but why should he hold a grudge against her? She couldn't understand, she only knew that it had been clear from the first moment that he was dangerous.
Now, she knew why.
Still, her mind refused to accept the truth and kept repeating it was not possible, that she could not be attracted by him. She blamed the stress, too much work or... the sexual frustration.
Yes, that had to be the reason! She couldn't deny that lately, things with Riley had been awkward, the sex poor and disappointing... and what she had witnessed just now surely was of no help. She should have been disgusted, though...
Why wasn't she disgusted?
Why couldn't she stop imagining herself kneeling at his feet in the place of Harmony? God, what was happening to her? How could she say that thing?
'What else would I want to pump you for?'
She must have gone mad! Might as well have told him she itched to-
Enough, stop it! Say what you have to say and leave.
Buffy felt her cheek – her whole body – flaming and was aware she was blabbing nonsense in her desperate attempt to hide her inner turmoil.
Then she made the mistake of lifting her gaze and she saw it: Spike's eyes were fixed on her breasts and his lips were curved in the typical smile of one who knows.
To cover the evidence of her excitement was instinctive. And useless. It was as if the flame burning in her center was a beacon pointing the way. To whom and towards what, it was not difficult to understand.