Page 16 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

His lips press against mine, firm but gentle at first. Just a formality, I tell myself. A seal on a contract written in invisible ink.

But something electric shoots between us and courses through my veins, burning me up until my blood practically starts boiling with every beat of my traitorous heart.

What starts as a chaste wedding kiss shifts into something else entirely.

His hand at my waist pulls me closer until I'm flush against his chest. I can feel his heart racing in time with mine.

His lips nudge at mine with growing hunger, and to my horror, I feel my mouth opening wider to invite him in.

His tongue traces my bottom lip, past my teeth, and reaches for the roof of my mouth to taste me. A small sound tumbles from my throat and he swallows it before it ever has a chance to live.

The world narrows to just this.

His mouth on mine.

His hand on my face.

His arm around my waist.

And I want more.

My hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit. I press myself closer, driven by a need I don't dare recognize.

I shouldn't like this.

Then, familiar cold panic—icy cold—seeps into my bones. This surrender is dangerous. It's exactly what I've been protecting myself from for two years. The walls I've carefully constructed is coming apart from under his touch. And if that wall ever comes crashing down…

I can't like this!

My hand tightens against his powerful chest as if my mind is subconsciously pushing him away.

But all it does is make him pull me even closer to him.

The instant that he does, my body seems to have taken on a mind of its own.

It yearns for more contact even as my heart and brain scream at it to pull back.

I have to stop this! I have to!

Without thinking, I bite down on his bottom lip. Hard.

Anatoly jerks back, surprise flashing across his face. A bead of crimson wells up on his lip where my teeth broke skin.

Blood.

His tongue darts out and collect a droplet of red. But his eyes never leave mine, and their blue flames are practically setting me alight. Both of us stare at each other, and I know that the words echoing in his head are the same as the ones in mine.

You’ve drawn my blood twice now without consequence. Once with your hands, and once with your mouth. And after the third time, there will be consequences.

I should be afraid.

I should be regretting what I did.

But all I feel is a thrill thrumming down my spine until it meets the wet pulsing heat between my legs.

Anatoly's expression transforms slowly. Surprise melts away, and is replaced with a dark and hungry look of vicious approval.

"Three times," he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear.

My stomach flips, and I almost stammer out to him that I didn't mean to make him bleed.

But if I do that, then he won't make good on what he's said.

The sun inches higher above us. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my ribs. My breath comes out in quick shallow pants that sync with my thumping heart.

I turn on my heels and run.

My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out everything else: the sound of the waves crashing in the distance, the cry of seagulls flying overhead, and even the sound of my own breathing.

The white dress swishes around my legs as I flee from the wedding arch, from Anatoly, and away from what I've just done.

What have I done?

Three times! I've drawn his blood three times.

Cold air caresses my face as I run toward the mansion, not daring to look back. He's behind me, following. I know he is.

The grand doors of the mansion welcome me into their cool embrace. The marble floor practically sings beneath my feet as I take the stairs two at a time, my hand clutching the banister for support.

My chest heaves with each ragged breath. The wedding dress constricts around my ribs. I reach the landing and dart down the hallway toward my room, fling the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind me.

But I don't stop.

I continue retreating until my back presses against the cold unfeeling window just like when he almost kissed me two days ago. My pulse won't slow. My mind won't quiet.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking? You weren't thinking, that's the problem.

I press my hands to my burning cheeks. The gold wedding band catches the sunlight streaming through the window, taunting me with its permanence.

Then I hear it.

Footsteps in the hallway.

Not hurried like mine but slow and deliberate. The sound of someone who knows that his prey has nowhere left to run.

My breath comes faster. Heat floods my face and spreads down my neck, pooling low in my belly. I should be terrified. I should be looking for escape routes, weapons, anything.

But all my body does is betray me with a shiver of anticipation.

I want to know just what my consequences will be.

The footsteps stop outside my door. Silence stretches, and with it comes both a promise and a threat.

Then, slowly, the doorknob starts to turn.