Page 34

“Why? Because you’re afraid if I keep standing here, you might lose control?” I taunt from where I’m standing.

I’m no longer entirely sure why I’m doing this right now. I don’t have a plan to kill him at this particular moment. I don’t have a knife or a gun. My only weapon is the poison in my clutch, and that’s not going to help me right now.

But I don’t want to back down. I don’t want to leave. I want?—

Fuck.I want Konstantin. And while his self-control is still intact, mine is rapidly fraying.

He turns back from the bar, his gaze flinty. “I won’t be baited by you, Sophia. Go to bed.”

“Or what?” I tilt my chin up, crossing my arms over my chest. “Are you going to make me?”

That muscle ticks again. Frustration fills his gaze, and his eyes sweep over me, taking in my bloodstained dress, the blood on my skin, my tousled hair, the flush on my cheeks. I watch his jaw flex, watch his throat move as he swallows, and then in three quick strides he’s right in front of me, his body nearly touching mine as I look up at him, daring him to crush his mouth against mine?—

His arm encircles my waist… and he lifts me up, throwing me unceremoniously over his shoulder as he strides toward the door dividing our rooms.

The pulse of desire fluttering between my legs stills instantly, replaced by a flood of anger. “Put me down!” I snap, slapping my hand against his back. He ignores me, throwing the door between our rooms open, and I kick at him, trying to aim the toe of my stiletto directly at his balls.

He grabs my ankles with his free hand, pinning them together as he carries me into my room. I squirm, not caringif I fall, as long as I get loose. His hand tightens on my ankles and waist, pinning me against his hard body, and I feel a flood of arousal between my thighs, soaking my panties until they’re clinging to the smooth folds of my pussy.

“You arrogant, high-handed—” I cry out as he drops me onto the bed, desire and anger clashing together in a furious battle for supremacy as I glare up at him. I don’t know if I want to punch him or fuck him, and Iabsolutelywant to kill him—but first I want him to follow me down onto the bed and finish what he fucking started.

Instead, he turns on his heel and heads back toward the door.

“You fuckingasshole,” I grind out between my teeth, shoving myself up off of the bed. I don’t follow him—I have more pride than that—but my hands curl into fists, and I glare at his retreating back as he reaches the door.

Konstantin turns briefly, glancing back at me. “I’m sure you’re regretting not letting that waiter shoot me right about now,” he says bemusedly. “But I’m also sure you’ll get over it. Goodnight, Sophia.”

And just like that, he walks through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

I grit my teeth, stifling the scream of frustration that threatens to escape. I stare at the door, willing him to change his mind and come back, and when he doesn’t, I curse under my breath.

Four days, as of tomorrow. Four days to figure out how to kill this infuriating man, who clearly wants to fuck me so badly he can hardly stand it, but won’t give in to the desire to take his own fucking wife to bed.

He’s probably jerking off right now.I grit my teeth, my thighs pressing together involuntarily at the thought of Konstantin stroking his cock. I pivot on my heel, kicking off my shoes as I stride to the bathroom and turn on the faucet with asharp jerk, splashing cold water over my heated face. I look up at my reflection, grimacing at my smudged makeup and flushed cheeks. I let my desire run away with me, and right now I’m no closer to either fucking Konstantin or killing him.

I’m supposed to be cool and calculated, the assassin that Nicholas Kane trained up from a child, not a woman thirsting after her target. “You’re embarrassing yourself,” I murmur to my reflection, but that pulse still throbs between my thighs, reminding me of how it felt to have Konstantin so close to me a moment ago.

How it felt to be slung over his shoulder, his hard chest and back pressed against me, his hands gripping me so tightly?—

Am I seriously turned on by that?Being manhandled like he’s some caveman and I’m his prize? I should be horrified by that, and Iam—but my hand drops between my thighs as I grip the edge of the sink, my fingers deftly sliding my panties to one side as I seek out my throbbing clit.

I’m fuckingsoaked. My fingers are instantly coated in my slick arousal, my panties wet with it. I gasp as my fingertips find my swollen clit, making tight, quick circles as I bite my lip to stifle my moans. I can still feel the pressure of Konstantin’s hand on my waist, his fingers locked around my ankles, and I close my eyes, imagining him gripping them like that as he hooks them over one shoulder, his other hand guiding his thick cock into me?—

“Fuck,” I breathe through gritted teeth, feeling my orgasm rise more quickly than I think it ever has before. I’m already on the edge, my body dripping and needy, and I thrust my hips against my circling fingers, chasing the pleasure that’s so close.

It hits me in seconds, crashing over me with the force of a tidal wave. My knees buckle, and I grip the edge of the sink harder to keep myself upright, gasping through gritted teeth as wave after wave of pleasure arcs through me. I have to fight tokeep from moaning Konstantin’s name as I ride the crest of the orgasm—I refuse to give him that win, even if he’d never know.

When the climax ebbs, I sag against the sink, catching my breath as I let the aftershocks fade. Shame hits me directly in the aftermath, and I stare at myself in the mirror, willing myself to get my head on straight.

I’ve never lusted after a mark like this before. There have been a few men Kane has sent me after that were handsome, men that I didn’t mind having to fuck one bit, but this—this feels different. Stronger. Like there’s some chemistry, some attraction between Konstantin and me that’s distracting… dangerous. I felt it when I first opened that folio, when I saw his picture. Iknewthis was a bad idea.

But I agreed to it anyway, because I need what Kane has for me. What finishing this job promises.

And now I have to go through with it.

I strip my dress off, turning on the shower and leaving it ice cold as I discard my clothes on the bathroom floor. I suck in a sharp breath as I stand under the cold spray, welcoming the distraction as my skin tightens and pebbles, my lungs contracting as I gasp. I stand there for as long as I can, until I have to change it to warm so that I can wash off the blood from the would-be assassin tonight.

Not on my watch,I think grimly as I towel off and slip into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. I’m the only assassin who’s going to kill Konstantin Abramov.