Page 18 of Konstantin (Marinov Bratva #1)

“Don’t worry, this bed’s big enough for the both of us. Though the last thing you’ll want is to get away from me, I promise.” With my other hand, I brush her cheek with my knuckles, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin too much.

It’s like I can’t stop touching her, like I’m a desperate man. She tries to mask the way I affect her, but the goose bumps racing across her skin speak the truth she refuses to voice.

“There’s absolutely no way I’m sleeping in the same bed as you. You’re my boss, and I’m your assistant. That’s all this is, and that’s all it’ll ever be.”

I laugh, low and dark, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and tugging her head back until her chest heaves.

“That’s exactly what you are. My assistant.

Mine to command. So when I say we’re sharing a bed, that’s exactly what will happen.

And if you don’t like it?” I lower my pitch to a dangerous whisper.

“The door’s right there. Walk through it and lose the job you were begging me for. The choice is yours.”

She grits her teeth, her body coiling with her displeasure.

“Fine.” The word might as well be a curse with the way she said it.

I chuckle to myself. Of course she’d give in. What choice does she have?

When I loosen my grip, I savor the pink flush on her cheeks, the way her lips stay parted like she’s still catching up.

“Good girl.” A smirk pulls at my mouth. “I knew you’d see reason.”

She exhales hard, a sound closer to a snarl than a laugh.

“It’s for your own safety. I have enemies. They wouldn’t hesitate to use you to get to me.”

“So this is for my benefit, huh?” Sarcasm drips from every word as she glares like she’s not sure whether she wants to slap me or drag me closer.

I’d welcome either.

“Of course. Everything I do is for your benefit.” My gaze trails down the length of her body, and I can’t help invading her space again, both hands gripping her hips and dragging her flush to me.

“But if you want the complete truth, I want you in my bed. I want to feel your bare skin on mine. I want to own every sound you make. Every look. Every damn heartbeat. You’re so far under my skin, I’m bleeding for it. ”

The smallest shift gives her away. A twitch in her jaw. Her spine straightens like a blade, and I know she feels this. Every inch of her is on edge, and I like knowing that it’s because of me.

Her defiance flickers behind those fierce, firelit eyes, but it’s starting to crack. Because this thing between us? It’s stronger than her resistance. It’s hunger in the form of a slow, unraveling surrender, and she’s starting to realize it too.

I don’t want to want her. It’d be so much simpler if this was just about sex. But I can’t escape this. I don’t even want to. And that’s a deadly recipe for the both of us.

I step back, undoing the cuffs of my shirt one by one, and she turns her back to me almost too quickly, like I can’t see through the paper-thin armor she’s wrapped herself in.

I want to break through it. Shatter every piece of control she’s gripping to.

“Look at me,” I demand.

She doesn’t move. So predictable .

“I said look at me. ” My tone sharpens, daring her to disobey.

Slowly, she turns, her chin high, breaths shallow. Every inch of her is tight with tension, ire…and need. I see it all. She can’t hide from me.

“Come closer.” I beckon her with a finger, wishing she was naked with a collar and leash around her neck.

The image in my mind is so vivid I can taste it. Her crawling to me like the good girl I know she’ll become.

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “What do you want?”

Every muscle in my body twists. I want her hands on me. I want her surrender.

“Take off my belt.”

She freezes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I take a step forward, erasing the last breath of space between us. My voice dips to a warning. “Take. Off. My. Belt.”

Her eyes thin, that fire flaring. “I’m not your servant.”

“No…” The heat between us practically vibrates. My hand feathers against her hip, deliberately slow. “You’re not. But you are mine. I own you, Ms. Monroe. Now do as you’re told and take off my belt.”

A beat of silence passes. Then, with our eyes locked, her hands rise. And with disdain written all over her features, she finds the buckle and starts to unfasten it. Not because she’s obedient. Because she wants me to know she can play this game and still stay in control.

She tugs the leather free with a smooth pull, and I see it in her eyes: Ms. Monroe is just as addicted as I am.

And I haven’t even touched her yet.

I take the belt from her hands, slipping it behind her neck and pulling her in. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

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 my boxers, 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.