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If that meant I was selfish, then so be it.

“Don’t.” Vuk’s voice was ragged.

Don’t.He’d told me that before, and I believed him as much then as I did now.

The evidence was in the way he looked at me—like it physically hurt him to lay eyes on me, but he couldn’t bear to look away because that would hurt even more.

I called his bluff. “Then leave.”

He stayed.

Lightning cracked outside. The glass was cool against my back, but I was burning up.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,srce moje.” His voice was lethally soft.

Srce moje. I didn’t know what it meant, but the sound of it pooled inside me with languid warmth.

“You told me once to stop saying sorry,” I breathed. “I will if you stop telling me what I should want.”

“And what is it that you want?” A dark edge slid beneath his words.

More goosebumps erupted. A flame pulsed low in my stomach, hot and heavy with need.

I’d lost my words when he asked me a similar question at Valhalla. They flowed easily from me now.

“You,” I said. Unapologetic, unabashed. “I want you.”

Whatever thread of control he held on to snapped.

Vuk moved so swiftly I didn’t have time to draw another breath before I was pinned between the window and the hard, unyielding muscles of his body. His mouth claimed mine, and I parted eagerly for him, drunk on his taste and clean, dizzying scent.

My hips canted up to press shamelessly against his arousal. His fingers dug into my hair; my hands gripped his shoulders. Urgent breaths panted between us, fanning the liquid fire in my veins.

I didn’t care where we were or who saw or what happened after. This kiss was a revelation, at once brutal and worshiping, and I couldn’t get enough.

Vuk nipped my bottom lip. The sharp sting throbbed in my core. “What else do you want? Do you want me to fuck you, Ayana?”

Oh God. The dirty roughness of his words poured pure lust on an already raging fire. Wetness pooled between my thighs, and I nodded, my mouth too dry for words to pass.

He groaned and said a thick word in Serbian before he grasped the hem of my dress and shoved it up around my waist. My head fell back, and I let out a small whimper when his fingers found the drenched evidence of my need.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I want you to fuck me.” I gasped when he pressed against my core. Pleasure raced through my blood, drowning me in heat.

There was no room for coyness. I was too hungry for something to sate the hollow, aching space between my legs.

“Look at how wet you are.” He pushed my underwear aside and rubbed his thumb over my slick, swollen clit. “So fucking greedy for my cock,srce moje.”

A desperate sound wrenched from my throat. I tried to grind against him, but he forced my hips to still with one hand while he teased me with the other. Rubbing, stroking,killingme with alternating featherlight caresses and merciless touches.

Pressure built, then abated, then built again in an endless cycle of edging. I wasn’t wet anymore; I was soaked. My juices dripped down my thighs and clung to my skin, and I probably looked like a mess. Legs parted, hair undone, the picture of wanton abandon.

“Please.” My hips bucked again, but I couldn’t find enough friction to end the torment. “Vuk,please.”

He groaned. “Open your mouth.” A trace of strain edged his otherwise controlled voice.

My mind was so hazy, I obeyed without protest. A moment later, he pushed two drenched fingers into my mouth. The sweet, tangy taste of my arousal flooded my tastebuds.