Page 55 of Konstantin

Her smile is fiery as her fingertips graze my abdomen, igniting the very core of me. She begins undoing the button of my trousers before dragging the zipper down, then lowers my pants until they’re pooling around my ankles. I step out of them, my cock straining beneath myboxers, and I know she sees it.

Her pupils widen, face flushed. Her hands hover over my biceps, like her body begs to hold on to me for dear life.

“You’re not done yet. The shirt too.” I drop the belt onto the floor, wanting to tie her to the bed and use it on her perfect skin instead.

She’d never need to hurt herself again, not when I could give her everything she’s searching for. Every high. Every low. Every desperate ache. I’d be the one to give it and take it away.

When she bites her lip, I find the war inside her. She craves this with the same intensity that she resents it.

But the heart is a selfish thing. It doesn’t weigh logic or fear. It goes after whatever it desires. And resistance only sharpens the hunger.

Her hands slide up my chest, fingers working each button with deliberate slowness until my shirt parts and she pushes it from my shoulders. Those eyes clasp to mine like a challenge that I willingly accept.

I watch her face the entire time. Watch the way her breath falters, how her gaze drinks me in even as she tries to stay composed.

I lean in, my mouth grazing her ear. “You have no idea how much I enjoy your hands on me.”

And how much I wish I didn’t.

Before she can respond, I step back, walking off to grab fresh clothes from my suitcase.

When I turn around, I find her rushing into the bathroom. The soft click of the lock fills the air; my lips twitch into a grin.

Run all you want, katyonak. But no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get away from me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EMILIA

The thoughtof sleeping next to him tonight makes my thoughts spiral.

You’d better not fuck him or I’ll kill you.

Yes, I occasionally threaten myself with bodily harm. It works. For the most part.

This time, though? I’m not so sure.

He walks up beside me as we head toward the conference room in some fancy hotel, his masculine woodsy cologne invading my nostrils without permission like everything else about him.

The hallway leading there is silent but for the muffled echo of our steps. His hand cups the small of my back, the heat of it searing through the thin fabric of my dress. I hate that I like it. Hate that I want more.

Everything about earlier in the hotel room slams into my mind. The way he demanded that I undress him, the way he looked at meas I did, like he wanted to take every little bit of me until there was nothing more…

I wanted that. I still do. And I hate myself for it. Instead of being loyal to my brother, I’m fantasizing about screwing the man who put him in prison.

“You remember everything I asked of you?” Konstantin’s voice breaks the silence as we get closer to the meeting room.

I nod, glancing at him for a moment. “Take notes. Don’t get in the way. Keep my mouth shut. Did I get everything?”

He chuckles. “You make it sound like a punishment.”

“Only because it’s coming from you.”

His smirk bends like a blade, and I feel every inch of it crawl down my spine just as the doors swing open and we enter. The conference room is all glass and marble, a powerful combination of menace and opulence.

At least ten men turn to look at us, all in expensive suits, all carrying the same air of entitlement and danger. Two seats wait at the head of the table.

I falter.