Chapter 5 #2
He stepped closer, not nearly enough to crowd me but enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. The lantern light caught in his blue eyes, turning them a shade deeper. His voice softened, dropping into a tone too smooth for my comfort.
“You’re stiff,” he spoke quietly, almost crooning. “Too serious. Like you’ve forgotten what it’s like to breathe.”
“I breathe just fine.”
“Sure,” he said. “But when’s the last time you did it for yourself? Not for a mission. Not for a cause. Just because you wanted to?”
I hated him for asking that. I hated the way the question tugged at a part of me buried under duty and grief. I hated the warmth that spread through my stomach at the sound of his voice.
“I know your type,” he added.
“Of course you do.” I lifted my chin again. “Do enlighten me.”
“You’re the kind of woman who carries the weight of her whole world on her shoulders,” he said easily. “The kind who thinks she has to save everyone alone. The kind who looks at someone like me and thinks, ‘No, thank you, that looks like trouble.’”
“You are trouble,” I replied smoothly.
“I’m the fun kind,” he smiled. “The kind you haven’t let yourself enjoy yet.”
My cheeks warmed before I could stop them. I cursed myself quietly.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His grin widened. “There it is.”
“There what is?” I snapped.
“The part where you stop pretending you don’t see me.”
I should have shut him down cold. But Viktor Dragunov radiated the kind of energy that drew people in whether they wanted to be drawn or not, all dangerous charm wrapped in lazy confidence.
He leaned one shoulder against the glass, arms and ankles crossed, studying me like I was another puzzle he intended to solve.
“Why don’t we stop this dance,” he continued, voice dropping, “and I’ll take you back to my suite and give you what you really need.”
The air punched out of my lungs at the same time heat rushed up my neck.
I recovered fast. “What I need is sleep, not whatever you think is happening right now.”
He chuckled. “That’s adorable. Truly. But you’re looking at me like you want to study my anatomy, and I’m happy to offer a practical demonstration.”
I shoved him, not hard, but enough. He barely moved, but the grin that spread across his face was wickedly devious.
“You’re arrogant,” I hissed.
“So I’ve been told.”
“And conceited.”
“Also true.”
“And you think you can flirt your way into anything.”
“Usually works.”
“It won’t work on me.”
His eyes dropped very deliberately to my mouth, then back up.
“It already has.”
The temperature in the courtyard felt ten degrees hotter. My whole body tightened with frustration, desire, anger, and then all three braided together in a way I absolutely did not want to analyze.
I stepped back.
Viktor didn’t move to follow me. He didn’t crowd me. Didn’t touch me. He just stood there in that easy, infuriatingly relaxed posture that made me want to climb him like a goddamn tree to kiss and strangle him at the same time.
His gaze stayed on me, warm and slow, assessing rather than predatory, which somehow made it worse. Like he was cataloging everything about me from the way I crossed my arms to the way I held my breath when he looked too closely.
“Still angry?” he asked softly. “Or did I finally make you think about something other than your mission?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snapped.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, “I don’t need to flatter myself. You’re doing it for me.”
My pulse thudded hard. “You’re delusional.”
“Only on good days.”
“And you really think you can talk your way into my bed?”
A grin curved across his mouth, suggestive and overly confident. “I don’t need to talk my way into it. I’m already more than halfway there.”
I swallowed, heat pricking up the back of my neck. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He uncrossed his ankles and stepped forward, only a fraction, and dropped his voice into that warm, velvet-dark register that made my stomach twist.
“Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with,” he said.
“A woman who’s been fighting for so long she forgot she’s allowed to want anything.
A woman who’s convinced she has to do everything alone.
” His eyes flicked down my body, not lewdly, but knowingly.
“And a woman who is looking at me like she’s wondering what I taste like. ”
My breath stuck in the back of my throat. I hated that he noticed.
I hated even more that he was right.
“You’re out of line,” I reprimanded, trying to force my voice to stay steady.
“Probably,” he agreed. “But if I don’t push, you’ll pretend you don’t feel this.”
“There is no ‘this.’”
He raised a brow. “Then slap me now and we’ll call it even.”
I blinked.
He leaned in, just enough for me to feel the heat of him, the space narrowing like a held breath.
“Go on,” he said softly. “If I’m wrong, you’ll do it without hesitation.”
My chest twisted tight with anger, frustration, and heat, and all of them tangled together and clawed for release.
He smirked. “Or maybe you’re afraid you’ll like it too much when I pin you down to my bed and spread open those pretty legs.”
That did it.
My hand came up before my brain could stop it, and the slap cracked harshly across his cheek.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t blink.
Just slowly turned his head back toward me, eyes darker than before, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
My heart nearly exploded out of my chest.
I took a step back, breath shaking.
His grin spread wider. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Red-hot fury surged through me, and I slapped him again, harder this time. The sting of it reverberated up my arm, creating a satisfying impact that echoed throughout the courtyard for a few long seconds following the slap.
His head snapped to the side.
He looked back slowly, and this time, the smirk was gone. Replaced by a much hotter, hungrier, and so much more dangerous look on his face.
“That was better,” he said, his voice all hot and heavy and I hated that it did something to my insides that made me want to moan and scream at the same time.
And then he kissed me.
His mouth crashed into mine, rough and demanding, a punishment and a promise at once.
One of his hands fisted in my hair, tilting my head back, taking exactly what he wanted, and for a second, I was too stunned to do anything but feel.
His lips were firm, insistent, tasting of the challenge that simmered between us.
I gathered my senses, raised my hand to slap him a third time, but he was faster.
His other hand shot out, catching my wrist in an iron grip before I could make contact.
“Oh, kotenok, you’re going to want to slap me many more times tonight.
But I can’t imagine how hard they’re going to be for all the other much dirtier things I do to you tonight.
” He tugged me against him, my wrist caught, my body flush with his.
The warmth of his chest seeped through my shirt, a stark contrast to the cold glass at my back.
“Now,” he breathed against my lips. “Let’s try this without the interruptions. ”
Without a moment’s warning, he kissed me again, much more deeply this time.
Rougher. More possessive. His tongue swept past my lips, a bold, unapologetic invasion that sent a jolt of pure fire straight to my core.
My body reacted. Instantly. Treacherously.
A soft moan escaped my throat, making a sound I couldn’t hold back, and exposing the kind of surrender I hadn’t intended to give him.
He swallowed the small sound, a deep, satisfied rumble vibrating from his chest into mine.
He let go of my wrist, wrapping that arm around my waist, lifting me slightly, pressing me impossibly closer until not a whisper of air separated us.
My free hand, which should have pushed him away, instead slid into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, my fingers winding in, holding him to me.
I was hating him with every fiber of my being, even as I was arching into him, my body silently begging for more.
I hated him, but in that moment, I hated myself more.
His kisses were a war. Hard, demanding, bruising.
They weren’t gentle or coaxing. They were a declaration of ownership, and every cell in my body answered his call.
He bit my lower lip, and the unexpected sting melted into a deep, liquid ache that spread through my entire body.
I returned it with a nip of my own, my teeth scraping his jaw, earning a low growl that made my core squeeze tight with desire.
My clit pulsed at that same moment.
“Viktor,” I gasped, tearing my mouth away for a second to breathe. My head was spinning. The glass courtyard, the snow, the polished suite, the quiet of night, it all blurred into a haze of sensation, all centered on the hard, unyielding man holding me captive in his arms.
“Say my name again,” he ordered, his voice a gravelly command as he nipped and sucked a path down the column of my throat.
“Never.”
He chuckled darkly against my skin. “We’ll see.”
One of his hands slid down my back, over the curve of my ass, and then lower, cupping me with a proprietary boldness that made my knees go weak. He squeezed, and the world tilted.
Then he smacked my ass. It was over the fabric of my coat, but the sudden shock of it made me cry out before I could clamp my lips shut.
Revealing me.
Exposing me.
“You liked that,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t respond, but my hips ground toward him, a silent admission that revealed my secrets without words.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m going to make you like a lot of things you think you hate.”
“Fuck you,” I countered,
“Gladly, kotenok.”