Page 43 of His Darkest Obsession

I step back slightly, and feel light-headed at what I've done.

Before I can retreat further, Anatoly's hand reaches out to capture mine.

His blue eyes holding mine captive as he speaks. "Your turn."

Obedient, I hold out my left hand, my fingers still trembling as he positions the ring at the tip of my finger.

The soft gold band gleams in the sunlight, smaller than his signet but no less meaningful in its weight. He slides it onto my finger with practiced precision.

I gasp in spite of myself.

The ring hardly weighs anything physically, but right now, it feels like I have the weight of the entire world pressing down my hand. This tiny thin band of metal now binds me to a man I barely know, a dangerous man who stormed into my life and refuses to let me go.

The priest's voice rises and falls in Russian, the words meaningless to my ears but their significance undeniable. Hegestures between us with solemnity, and then says something with finality that makes Anatoly's posture shift.

From his expectant stare and the way Roma and Svetlana look at us, I have a pretty good guess as to what he said.

You may now kiss the bride.

Anatoly steps closer, one arm slipping around my waist with surprising gentleness. His other hand rises to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

His blue eyes bore into mine, searching for something I'm not sure I want him to find. Heat flares through my body, sharp and electric, at his proximity.

"This isn't for love," I whisper against his mouth, our lips barely an inch apart.

His eyes darken, pupils dilating slightly.

"No, it's not," he agrees, his voice a low rumble that I feel vibrating through his chest where it presses against mine.

Then he kisses me.

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 wantmore.

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.