Prologue – Anya #2
The challenge hung between us like a lit fuse. I could see the exact moment his control cracked, could watch the careful mask he wore slip just enough to reveal the hunger underneath.
“One dance,” he said finally. “Then you go back to your table and pretend this never happened.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
The music was slow, sultry, the kind of rhythm that seemed designed to make people do stupid things. Lev’s hand settled on the small of my back, his fingers spanning the gap where the dress dipped low, and I had to bite back a gasp at the contact.
His other hand found mine, engulfing it completely, and suddenly we were moving together like we’d done this a thousand times before. He was a good dancer—of course, he was—but there was something controlled about it, like even now he was holding himself back.
“Relax,” I murmured, close enough to his ear that I could feel him shiver.
“I can’t.” The confession was barely audible over the music. “Not with you.”
“Why not?”
Instead of answering, he spun me away from him, then pulled me back so my back was pressed against his chest. I could feel the hard line of his body against me, could feel the way his breath hitched when I let my head fall back against his shoulder.
“This is a mistake,” he said, but his arms tightened around me.
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“Stop telling me what I should do.” I turned in his arms so we were face to face again, so I could see the war being fought behind his steel-gray eyes. “I’m not a child, Lev.”
“I know.” His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a gentleness that made my chest ache. “That’s the problem.”
The song ended, but neither of us moved. We stood there in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other couples but completely alone, staring at each other like we were trying to memorize every detail.
“I should take you back to your table,” he said finally.
“You should.”
But instead of leading me back to the VIP section, he took my hand and pulled me deeper into the club, away from the lights and the music and the watching eyes. Through a door I hadn’t noticed before, down a hallway that smelled of leather and expensive cigars.
“Where are we going?” I asked, but I didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away.
“Somewhere we can’t be seen.”
He pushed open another door, and suddenly we were in a small room lined with bookshelves, a single lamp casting everything in warm, golden light. It was quiet here, peaceful in a way that made the pounding of my heart seem impossibly loud.
“Lev,” I started to say, but he pressed me back against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice was raw, desperate in a way I’d never heard from him before. “Any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Could only stare up at him and try to process the fact that Lev Antonov—cold, controlled, untouchable Lev—was falling apart because of me.
“Answer me.”
“I hoped,” I whispered. “I hoped you felt something.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Something? Anya, you’ve been driving me insane for months. Every time I see you, every time you smile at me or say my name or just exist in the same room as me, I have to remind myself why I can’t have you.”
“What if I don’t want to be something you can’t have?”
The question hung in the air between us, loaded with promise and peril in equal measure. Lev’s eyes searched my face like he was looking for some sign that I didn’t mean it, some indication that this was just the alcohol talking.
He wouldn’t find it. Because this was the most honest I’d ever been in my life.
“Anya,” he breathed, saying my name like a prayer, like a curse.
“Kiss me.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Just stared at me with those storm-gray eyes while I held my breath and waited for him to either give in or walk away.
Then his mouth was on mine, and the world exploded.
It wasn’t gentle. Wasn’t the careful, exploratory kiss I might have expected from someone who’d been holding back for so long. It was desperate and hungry and completely consuming, like he was trying to devour me from the inside out.
I kissed him back with everything I had, months of suppressed desire pouring out in the slide of lips and tongue and the scrape of teeth. He tasted like vodka and danger and something that was uniquely him, something I wanted to drown in.
His hands found my waist, pulling me against him until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. I could feel the hard line of his body, could feel how much he wanted me, and it made me bold in ways I’d never been before.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, messing up the perfect style until it fell across his forehead in dark waves. He groaned against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like electricity.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said when we broke apart to breathe, but he didn’t let go of me.
“I know.” I was breathing hard, my lips swollen and my body aching for more. “I don’t care.”
“Your brother—”
“Isn’t here.” I pressed closer, until I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. “It’s just us.”
He stared down at me for a long moment, and I could see the exact moment his resolve crumbled completely.
“If we do this,” he said, his voice rough with want, “there’s no going back.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
Something shifted in his expression then, something primal and possessive that made my stomach clench with anticipation.
“Not here,” he said, pressing one last, devastating kiss to my lips. “When I take you for the first time, it won’t be against a wall in some back room where anyone could walk in.”
The promise in his voice made my knees weak, made heat pool low in my belly in a way that was both terrifying and thrilling.
“When?” I whispered.
“Soon.” His thumb traced the line of my jaw, gentle despite the hunger burning in his eyes. “But not tonight. Tonight, you go home and think about whether this is really what you want.”
“I already know—”
“Think about it anyway.” He stepped back, leaving me cold and aching against the wall. “Because once we cross this line, there’s no pretending it didn’t happen. No going back to the way things were.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that I’d already crossed that line the moment I asked him to dance. But something in his expression told me he needed this, needed to believe he was giving me a choice even though we both knew I’d already made it.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll think about it.”
He smiled then, the first genuine smile I’d ever seen from him, and it was devastating.
“Good girl.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the promise buried in his voice.
He led me back through the hallway, back to the noise and lights and safety of the main club. But everything felt different now, charged with electricity and possibility. Every time his fingers brushed mine, every time he looked at me, I could feel that kiss like a brand on my skin.
When we reached the VIP section, Irene looked up from her phone with knowing eyes and a smirk that said she could read exactly what had happened in the flush of my cheeks and the slight swelling of my lips.
“Have a good dance?” she asked innocently.
“It was fine,” I said, sliding into the booth beside her and trying to pretend my hands weren’t shaking.
But as the night wore on and I watched Lev move through the club like liquid shadow, always aware of where I was but never coming close enough to touch, I knew it had been anything but fine.