Page 10 of Cain

“It’s as if you’re enjoying it.”

I lean in and smile. “That’s because I am.”

She reciprocates my smile. Fuck, she’s mouth-watering.

A thought strikes me instantly. She does look like a rose. Or, more precisely, like the one I’m holding. Her parents kept her isolated from the real world, just like this rose sat alone in its vase. They’ve fucked up her mind, making her believe she’s not enough. Stupid fuckers.

Just like this flower, she’s delicate, untouched by the trash outside her filthy cage. But roses wither, and innocence never lasts. And I’m here to be the one who proves it to her.

A rose is the only flower that can represent her natural beauty and elegance. The only one that can depict my longing for her.

“This is for you.” I offer her the flower.

“What is that?” She smiles bashfully, unable to believe my gesture, and holds the rose gently in her hand. Her fingertips skim gently against my skin, adding to my thirst for her touch.

“As a welcome to the country.”

“Oh …” She sniffs the rose, her eyes nailed on me. “This must be fate.”

“How so?” I ask, pretending I don’t know what she means.

“My last name means ‘little rose’ in English.”

“You don’t say.” I brush my hand over my stubble.

How innocent she looks. How oblivious to my obsession with her. Of course, I already know her last name and her full background. What she doesn’t know is how much I struggle on a daily basis not to fly to the Czech Republic and slit her boyfriend’s throat just because he dares to touch her and treat her like trash.

“Then I hope you like my little gift, ružicko.” I smile back at her.

“Actually, my last name is Ružicková,” she corrects awkwardly.

“I know.” Unable to hold my hands to myself and keep my cool, I brush a strand of her feathered hair behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful, porcelain face. Her eyes follow my movements, and she quietly accepts my gesture. “I literally called you ‘little rose.’”

“Oh.” She smiles coyly as her long, black lashes flicker. “I love roses.” She pulls back and lowers her feline eyes, trying to avoid my persistent eye contact. “I love everything about them. The smell, the sight of them, their colors.” Her voice sounds awkward, nearly shaky.

Inevitably, I want more.I want all of her.I want her eyes, and her mind focused on me. I want to touch her again and show her a glimpse of my fantasies about her.

“Have you tasted it?” I ask.

“I … what?”

Without breaking eye contact, I reach for the rose in her hand, pluck a petal, and press it to my lips, letting it slip into my mouth. “You don’t know the true power of its scent until you taste it.”

A faint smirk curls her lips, laced with both curiosity and anticipation. I can see it. I can feel it.

With the taste of the rose lingering on my lips, I lean in closer, brushing my thumb gently over her luscious lips before moving mine toward them.

She doesn’t move. She wants more. She’s practically begging me to continue.

“The taste of it will remind me of you, little rose,” I murmur, slowly tracing her lips with my tongue. Fuck … it’s almost euphoric. “You’re both sweet and velvety.” I pause, feeling her breath, shallow and quick, brush against my lips once more. “And all I want to do is savor every inch of you.”

I pull myself back and enjoy the sight of her licking and biting her lips in an attempt to taste it all over again. Her eyes stay locked on mine, lips parted, waiting for more, and I feel myself on the edge of losing control.

I catch sight of her friend coming back from the restrooms, where she must have smoked another cig.

Enough. I have to go before I put her in more danger just by being near her. I need to leave beforehesees us.

“Have a good day, Katerina.”