Chapter 5 #3
His voice drops into a rough whisper as he leans in, and now our noses are practically brushing. One breath forward, and we'd be kissing. One heartbeat closer, and I'd fall into him completely.
My ears burn, but I force my eyes up—away from his mouth, into the storm I know is waiting behind his stare.
"How do I look at you?" I whisper, the words trembling on my tongue like they're already desperate for his answer.
His eyes burn into mine, and for a moment, he doesn't speak. He just watches me, every flicker of movement, every twitch in my throat, like he's trying to decide if I'm ready for what he's about to say.
"You look at me like you want something dangerous," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, scraping against my skin like a touch I can't escape. "Like you want to be ruined."
I feel like I've lost the ability to breathe. Lost the functions needed to actually function like a human person. All I can feel is this growing need in my stomach and the quiet throb of my pussy. I press my thighs closer together, trying to steady myself, but it only makes the ache worse.
His fingers curl against the marble counter behind me, and when he speaks again, his voice is low, steady, and devastating.
"I don't want your smiles, Lily. I don't want your happiness, or your sweetness, or whatever parts of you people tell you to protect.
" He leans in even closer, his lips ghosting the corner of my mouth, brushing so lightly it sends a shiver down my spine.
"I want your screams," he whispers, the words hot against my skin.
"I want your tears. I want every piece of darkness you keep locked away.
Every inch of you that scares you. I want that. "
My breath leaves my lungs in one slow, shaky exhale.
God.
I can't think. Can't move. All I can do is nod.
"Okay," I whisper, voice trembling but sure. "Take it."
The second the words leave my mouth, he moves.
Aleksandr's hand slides from the counter to the side of my face, his fingers firm beneath my jaw as he tilts my chin up. His mouth crashes into mine with full force, lips pressing against mine so hard I gasp—but he doesn't pull back. He uses that gasp, deepens the kiss without hesitation.
His other arm curls around my waist, tugging me flush against him. My chest meets his, and I feel everything—hard muscle, steady breath, heat radiating through his clothes. The contrast is overwhelming. I feel smaller pressed up against him, like I've been swallowed whole.
This isn't sweet. It isn't careful. It's a kiss that feels like possession—like he's claiming me and I'm letting him.
His hand at my jaw holds me in place as his mouth moves against mine, and it feels like he's starving. Like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted to taste.
My hands hesitate in the air before finally finding his chest. They settle there, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt like it's the only thing keeping me upright.
His lips part mine, and I freeze for half a second—but then his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, coaxing me open.
I let him in. I can't stop myself.
My breath stutters in my throat, and he kisses me harder. His mouth moves over mine like he's trying to brand me, to carve himself into memory. And he does.
Every part of me lights up.
This is my first kiss, and it's nothing like I imagined.
There's no awkward hesitation. No second-guessing. Just Aleksandr—steady, sure, all-consuming. He controls it. Guides me. And I can't do anything but hold on.
My fingers clutch tighter against his chest. His heartbeat thuds steadily beneath my palms, while mine feels like it's about to rip out of my body.
Then his teeth catch my bottom lip and tug—firm, intentional, just enough to make me gasp again. Not rough. Not violent. Just enough.
He holds it there, for a beat, before letting go and brushing one last kiss against it.
And then he pulls back, chest rising and falling, his forehead resting lightly against mine.
We're both breathing hard.
I suck in a sharp breath; the intensity of the moment makes me feel like I just ran a marathon. My lips buzz where his were, my entire body humming with electricity.
This is what he meant. Is this his destruction? Is this him ruining me? If it is, sign me up. I want to give him more. I want to give him everything.
I am falling, collapsing into him when he pulls away and leans his forehead against mine.
Nervously, I lick my lips, and freeze when the taste of metal spreads across my tongue.
My eyes widen as I realize—he bit me. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to leave a mark.
His eyes lock onto the blood on my lip, and a smile—dark and panty-droppingly deadly—spreads across his lips.
"You're already bleeding, Lily," he taunts, his voice a low purr that makes my knees weak.
Before I can respond, he leans in and licks the blood off my bottom lip, his tongue warm and tender against my skin.
"Oh," I whisper, my tongue tracing over the space he just cleaned. "It's okay. No biggie."
I drunkenly lean in for another kiss, but he pulls back.
"No, it's not," he says, voice tight and breathless like it costs him everything to pull away.
His eyes flick over my face like he's memorizing it.
"So be a good girl. Be my good girl, moya," he says, the Russian soft and jarring against the edge of his restraint, "and go to the dance with the boy that dances. "
He licks his lips, lets his hand fall from my hip, and turns without another word, walking out of the room and leaving me pressed to the counter, trembling, lips swollen, and completely wrecked.