Chapter Six #2
But I can’t even bring myself to think straight around her.
This can’t go on any longer. I’m doomed if it does.
Frustrated by my own desire for Audrey, I rise to my feet and stride after her. She’s already in the bedroom by the time I make it upstairs.
I grab her by the wrist and press myself against her, caging her between my body and the wall.
“What are you doing?” she breathes, her chest rising and falling rapidly against mine.
“Setting boundaries,” I growl, leaning in close enough to feel the heat radiating from her.
The scent of her perfume fills my nose, invading my senses.
It’s a soft, floral scent mixed with vanilla that makes me want to drop to my knees and lick her from head to toe.
“This house is mine. You’re not going to go around throwing orders at me, Audrey. ”
She scoffs, masking her sudden breathlessness with a sharp glare. “I already told you, this house is as much mine as it is yours. You made me your wife, not your slave.” She twists her wrist, a useless attempt to break free from my grip. “Take your hands off me.”
I’m careful not to hold her too tightly and cause her any pain, but I can’t bring myself to let go. “No.”
Her brows arch. “No?”
“No,” I repeat, and for a long moment, neither of us moves or says anything more.
Audrey’s pulse flutters wildly beneath my fingers, syncing with the pounding in my chest and the throbbing in my pants.
We’re standing so close to each other. It’s dangerous, because all I have to do is lean over and my lips will be pressed against hers, claiming her as mine in every way that matters.
A slow smile curves her lips, and she shakes her head twice. “You’re angry.”
I swallow hard. “I have every reason to be.”
She shakes her head again. “No, that’s not it.” Her eyes pierce into mine as if she can read my mind—read all the dark, lustful, possessive thoughts taking up my headspace. “You’re angry because you want me.”
“Want? I don’t want you, Audrey.”
What I feel for her goes way beyond wanting.
It’s yearning.
The type that burns through my heart and makes me want to tear the world apart. It’s obsession. A need to possess her. To own her and everything she stands for.
I can already tell she’ll be my undoing.
I shouldn’t want her.
I should hate her for trying to fuck up my life.
But I can’t. I desire her more than I’ve ever wanted anything else. I might try to lie to myself, but it’s obvious she can see right through me.
Right through my soul.
“Really?” She tilts her head, studying me as though I’m a fascinating puzzle. “Because you haven’t stopped staring at me since breakfast.”
“Was I?”
“You were undressing me with your eyes.” Her eyes bore into mine, and then she throws the accusation right in my face. “You’re in denial. I never thought you’d be this much of a coward about your own feelings.”
“Coward?” I raise my hands and trace her lips with my finger. “No one’s ever called me that.”
“Well, I just did.”
I smile. “I don’t want you, Audrey. I need you. You have no idea how much I want to flip you over and fuck you until you’re screaming my name and trembling beneath me.”
Her breath hitches and her lips part, but I can tell from the way she only blinks at me that she’s too shocked to come up with any of her usual sharp retorts. “What?”
My gaze drags deliberately over her body. My fists clench, my blood heating with need. “I’ve wanted you from the second you walked back into my club.”
She smirks. “Then what’s stopping you? Your ego can’t stand the fact that I talk back to you?”
I chuckle. “If anything, I want to fill your mouth with my cock and fuck it until you learn to respect me.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she says with a frown. “That’ll never happen.”
“It will.” My finger moves from her lips to her neck, then down to the gap between her breasts. “Soon enough, you’ll be begging to have me inside you.”
Her chest heaves as bursts of raspy breath escape her. Her hazel eyes darken, and inside them, I can see the same desire I feel.
I’m not the only one holding back. Not the only one hanging by the last thread of my self-control.
“Or maybe you’ll be the one begging.” She inches closer. “Maybe someday you’ll be on your knees, begging for me to love you like I did a year ago.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. For a heartbeat, all I do is stare at her. I still remember that day—the day she confessed her love to me, and the sadness in her eyes when I turned her away.
It almost broke me to see her in pain.
Almost.
And yet I’d let her walk away believing I saw her as nothing more than a plaything. She was too na?ve and too young to be entangled in the mafia, and letting her go was my way of protecting her from my world.
From myself.
And I’ve spent every single day until I saw her again regretting what I did.
But rather than admit it, I laugh humorlessly. “You think I’d beg?”
“I know you wouldn’t.” Her smile is infuriatingly calm. “Your pride would never allow it.”
“My pride has nothing to do with this.”
“No?” She searches my face, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper as she tilts her chin up another fraction.
“I’ve spent the last five minutes telling you exactly what you want to do to me.
You’ve cornered me. Threatened me. Promised me.
” Her gaze flicks briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
“And yet you’re still standing there, doing nothing about it.
” Her fingers settle lightly against the front of my shirt, smoothing an imaginary crease from my tie. “I think you’re afraid.”
My brows draw together.
“Not of me.” A faint smile curves her lips. “Of what will happen after you kiss me. Of what you’ll feel for me.”
The words land like a knife because she’s right. I’m afraid of losing myself in my newfound obsession for her. Because once I go too far, I can no longer pretend this marriage is only about keeping up appearances.
My hand slides from her wrist to the back of her neck, my fingers disappearing into the silk of her hair. I feel her inhale sharply, but she doesn’t move away.
“Careful,” I murmur, my forehead nearly touching hers. “One day that mouth of yours is going to push me too far.”
“It already has.”
That tiny, confident smile is my undoing.
I crush my mouth to hers, not gently, not hesitantly, but with every ounce of frustration, resentment, and desire I’ve spent a year trying to bury.
For one impossible second, she goes completely still.
Then her fingers curl into my shirt and she moans into my mouth, kissing me back.
My dick hardens almost painfully, my nails digging into my palms as I urge myself not to rip her off her skimpy clothing and carry her to the bed.
Before things can go any further, a hard knock on the door breaks us apart.
“Boss,” Sergei calls from outside. “You have a call.”
I don’t reply, and neither does Audrey.
We’re locked in a staring contest, gasping for air.
Audrey’s eyes are wild and blazing with flames I haven’t seen in a year. “This…” She pauses and draws in a sharp breath. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
Frustration bubbles inside me. “One minute you’re trying to seduce me and the next minute you’re pushing me away. You have to make a choice at some point.”
She runs her fingers through her hair and snorts. “A choice? You basically threatened me into this marriage and now you’re acting like some benevolent tyrant.”
“If I wanted you in bed against your will, I would’ve had you already.”
Rage flashes across her face, her hazel eyes almost turning red. “I suppose I should be thanking you.” She pauses and inhales. “You know what your problem is? You only know how to possess people. You don’t know how to love or care or feel like a normal human being.”
Her words cut through me like a knife because I know she’s fucking right.
And I hate that she’s right.
A Nazarov is all I’ve ever been. It’s all I know how to be. And as a Nazarov, my duty to the bratva has always come first. I bathe in bloodshed and run several illegal businesses across the globe.
Fickle things like love and emotions have never been on my list of priorities. They still aren’t.
But her words cut deeper than any knife because they’re another reminder of how buried in darkness I am.
I open my mouth, unsure of what to say, when Sergei knocks again, the sound cutting through the tension swirling between us.
“It’s urgent, boss,” he says from the hallway.
“We’ll continue this later.” I step outside to meet Sergei. “This better be fucking important.”
“It is. Joaquin intercepted an unidentified shipment with your name on it. We’re lucky it got to him before the police.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and grit my teeth. “Where the hell’s Joaquin?”
“Port Montero.”
I nod. “Get the car ready.”
Now isn’t the best time for this, but business comes first. It’s always been that way with me.
It’s why I couldn’t let Audrey’s feelings for me a year ago grow into something more, and it’s why I’m restraining myself from her even now—though I admit I’m doing a pretty bad job at staying away from her.
“We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”