Page 31 of Only for Him (Starkov Bratva #1)

ROMAN

My little viper tears out of the office like she’s been set free.

The snap of her silhouette disappearing into the hall ignites something primal in me. My cock has been stiffening since we were first left alone together and as I watch her ass bounce away, knowing that it’s mine to catch, corner, and devour, makes me so hard that it hurts.

With a quick flick of my finger, I plunge the room into darkness, ready to lose myself in the hunt.

Her footsteps echo down the corridor, a pulse my own mimics. Each beat sharpens my senses, heightens the electricity crackling in the air. I focus on the sound, the frantic rhythm as she rushes to escape me.

Not really, though. She doesn’t want to get too far from me.

I’m sure of that now.

I saw how she looked at Rosa: like competition.

I’d have laughed at how wrong she was if her jealousy wasn’t so fucking adorable.

God, how I crave her capture, the feel of her squirming in my grasp.

I follow her out the door, catch her shadow slipping around a corner.

Oh, little viper. Nothing but dead ends that way.

As her footsteps move off, I feel her more than I hear her. She’s somewhere in the dark, running, thinking she can hold me off long enough that she’ll forget how bad she wants me. Maybe she can. She’s smart, and strong.

And she looks so damn good when she’s under my thumb.

I should be focusing, should be calculating—but my thoughts spiral to the memory of her lips wrapped around her gun.

That unholy moment she came on my thigh while I fed her her own threat, her body trembling and mouth eager.

And then the locker. The way she bit me, marked me, took control only to hand it back in the same breath. Her hand wrapped around me, her climax muffled against my neck.

Both times, she surprised me. I knew she had it in her, I just didn’t know it would be so easy to drag to the surface.

She’s not afraid of the dark. She’s afraid of how much she wants it.

And me? Am I afraid of how much I want her?

It took all my restraint not to fuck her every chance I had.

I don’t plan on fucking her tonight, either.

If I’m afraid of anything, it’s that I won’t be able to stop myself.

The hunt sharpens. I taste the air and catch the faintest thread of her—fear, sweat, that perfect perfume of adrenaline and fury. It’s sharp and sweet at once, a signature I could follow through a war zone.

My breath steadies. My steps slow. I don’t need to rush.

I always catch what’s mine.

I want to hold her down, see her writhe as she succumbs to her own desires.

She bites, she fights, but I want her to understand. This is how it will be because this is how we both want it.

Forever.

No. Not forever. Just until this is done, I remind myself.

Because forever doesn’t have my name on it.

Forever doesn’t belong to men like me.

Which is why I need to make this moment count.

Savor the hunt. Lick the air to taste the sweet, frantic arousal she leaves in her wake.

I know that FBI fuck can’t do this for her. No man can. I’m the only one.

I slow my pace, letting silence thicken between us. She’s just ahead—I can feel it in the static of the air, the short, sharp inhales she tries to muffle.

I don’t often use this wing and all the doors are locked. The hallway goes nowhere.

She’s hit a wall.

Too dark to see it right away, I hear her clawing at the wallpaper, looking for a door, maybe a window, anything to prolong the chase.

Getting closer, I can hear more. Her heartbeat is a war drum in the dark, loud and erratic.

I imagine her standing there, fists clenched, lungs burning, trying to decide if she’ll fight or beg.

She’ll do both.

“Nowhere left to run, little viper,” I say. My voice is a thread, meant to pull her to me. A promise more than a threat.

“You’re right,” she says. The sounds stop, no more scrabbling or pacing, but it’s not submission I hear in those two beautiful words.

It’s coyness, or maybe even cruelty.

For a moment, I’m caught off guard.

Her capacity to blindside me is nothing short of a miracle. It’s also part of the fun.

And then?—

An oomph . A shuddering. A burn.

It starts in my core and radiates up my spine, a live wire riding my vertebrae. For a beat, I see nothing but red. My tongue tastes blood. The pain is exquisite.

She kneed me in the fucking balls.

I’m furious, not that she landed the hit, but that I let her. Stupid, foolish mistake.

Not just brave. Predictable in the most infuriating way.

Then again—that’s my girl.

She bolts past me, adrenaline trailing behind her like a bloody ribbon. I let her run, just for a second.

She thinks she’s free again. Thinks she’s won.

I stand, slow and deliberate. Every nerve wants to sprint after her, tear her in half, fuck her until we’re both dead.

Patience, I remind myself.

I will catch her. And when I do, she’ll understand what punishment really looks like.

I scan the void for noise, air movement, any hint. My hearing is sharp, but she’s sharper: not a single breath out of place. I close my eyes—a habit even in the dark—and listen for what isn’t there.

There .

Something shifts back towards the main hall, but it’s still close by. I imagine the pillar she’s chosen to hide behind. She’s breathing through her mouth, barely audible, just the wet click of saliva.

She’s trying to decide if I’ll hunt or wait her out. Maybe seeing how badly she incapacitated me.

Not enough, I think with luxurious, violent pleasure.

I move slow and silent, tracking her breath even though I know exactly where she is.

When I draw close, the energy shifts and gravity itself seems to warp as she positions herself, muscles coiling like a spring ready to explode.

I step forward. This time, I make sure my boots hit the floor hard. She’ll hear the limp, the slight favoring of my left leg, but she won’t know if it’s a ruse. She’ll be calculating, plotting.

I love how her messy little brain works.

That’s why I decided to make myself at home there.

I love the effect I have on her. Even now, when she should be nothing but terrified, I know her pussy is dripping wet and her toes are curling in anticipation.

Another two steps. Then I hear it: the tremor in her breath, a tiny exhale that says she’s about to move.

I lunge, arms wide, and catch nothing but air. She’s fast, and she’s learned to keep low—she slides under my reach, serpentine and slithering.

My eyes fixate on the dark shape of her retreating figure, each heartbeat pounding a feral rhythm of need through my veins.

The adrenaline rush floods my body, and I can feel my muscles tensing, residual pain sliding away leaving nothing but hard, throbbing desire in its wake.

Will it be tonight?

Even I can’t say. I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.

She pauses at an intersection, and for a second I hear nothing.

Then a click: her thumb on the light switch. She’s hoping the circuit is isolated, that I’m not as thorough as she thinks. Nothing happens.

The dark stays total.

She swears, and the word sounds sacred coming from her mouth.

I close the distance. Each stride driving my frenzy closer to a climax. My cock is diamond-hard, the pain only feeding the urge.

I can see her now, a shadow inside a shadow, braced against the wall. Her pulse is a metronome in her throat. I want to bite it, and I will.

I’ll use the hand she bit to hold her down and leave my own mark on her neck.

The sweetest revenge imaginable.

She doesn’t wait for me. She throws herself at my midsection, hoping to catch me off balance, but this time I’m ready. I let her impact drive us both into the wall, pin her there with my hips and hands, her arms flailing until I trap them above her head.

She thrashes, tries to knee me again, but I block it with my thigh. I grab a fistful of her hair, and wrench her head back.

There she is.

My little viper.

“That was a neat trick back there,” I tell her. “But it’ll only work once.”

“Roman,” she breathes, and my name drips with a heady mix of fear and defiance. “Let me go.”

“No,” I say, and mean it. I lean in, my nose at her ear, and whisper, “You want this.”

Even in the dark, I see everything. The defiant tilt of her head. The rise and fall of her chest.

I push her to the ground. Before dropping to join her, I click the lights back on so I can admire her fully: Splayed out on the ground in that dress and waiting for me to pounce, brown eyes wide and helplessly begging.

My heart pounds.

My blood sings.

I unsheathe my knife.

The glint of the blade catches in her eyes. She freezes, but not from fear.

I kneel down slowly, straddling her creamy thighs. I’m sure she can feel how hard I am for her.

The power of finally having her where I want her sends a thrill down my spine. I slip the blade under her dress.

“Oh,” she whimpers, voice hoarse but high. In this moment, I know: I’ve taken her on a path from which there is no return. I’ll reveal her completely.

God, she’s beautiful like this—caught between instincts. Her fear and her hunger. Her fight and her want.

I press my forearm across her throat. Not hard, just enough to remind her. To make her look up at me and know that I see her .

“You can’t escape me,” I whisper. “You already gave in. Back in that locker, when you came all over my fingers.”

She trembles, and I feel it in every muscle pressed against her.

“When you sucked that gun like you wanted it to explode down your throat.”

The knife trembles in my hand, poised to cut through her, unveiling the beautiful monster hidden beneath.

“You don’t get to pretend anymore. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you won’t lie to me.”

I trace the flat of the knife along her inner thigh, watching her shiver. She tries to twist away. I tighten my grip.

“You want this,” I say. “You want to know how deep it goes. How far I’ll take you.”

She slackens, panting, and I use the moment to shift my grip. One hand on her throat, thumb pressing into the soft hollow where her pulse thrashes like a trapped animal.

The other finds the top of that pretty dress and slides the knife downward.

The fabric tears with a sound like gunfire, and comes apart in one beautiful motion.

She’s naked beneath, nipples peaked and begging for attention. Soft, curly hair barely concealing her cunt. I want to take each strand in my teeth and tug, hear her scream.

Soon enough, I will.

“Because you know I’ll take you to hell and back, over and over, until you forget what it’s like to stay still.”

I pause, just long enough to savor the sight. She’s perfect. Bruised, wild, still angry. Hers is a beauty that burns brighter from violence.

The hold of her body against mine burns hotter than any desire I have ever known. I pin her down by her neck, forcing her to look up at me.

“You had your chance, little viper. Now, it’s my turn.”