Page 14

Ilya’s self-control was hanging by a mere thread, fraying with every shallow breath he took. The way Valentina glared up at him, her lips parted in indignation and her chest rising and falling, wasn’t helping. She looked furious, yes, but there was something else there, too―something unspoken, something that fed the fire roaring inside him.

It was maddening.

Her hands gripped the edge of the counter behind her as his gaze locked on hers, intense and unrelenting.

“I told you, I was looking for a glass of water,” she snapped, her voice trembling with anger. No. It was something else. The thing fueling the fire in his chest.

“Liar,” he murmured, his lips barely an inch from her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Before she could retort, he couldn’t stop himself from inching closer as his fingers brushed against her waist, barely a touch, but it set his entire body aflame. He felt her stiffen beneath his touch, his senses scattering in every direction as his hand slowly trailed up her side.

“Stop,” she managed to say, her voice cracking pathetically.

But he didn’t. Instead, his palm flattened against her hip, pulling her just enough to close the small gap between them, their torsos now flushed together. His free hand slid up to her jaw, tilting her head so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Stop what?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, his thumb brushing lightly along her cheek. “Say it again, Valentina. Say it again, and I’ll leave you alone.”

He waited for her to snap at him, to shove him away, to say anything that would break the unbearable tension crackling between them―but the words seemed to die in her throat when his fingers traced the line of her jaw and slid down the curve of her neck.

Her silence only made him want to pin her against the counter and see how long she could hold onto that defiance before she melted for him. The thought of her pride unraveling under his touch, of hearing her bite back a moan instead of a retort, was driving him insane.

“You can’t even lie to yourself, Printsessa ,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers he could feel the warmth of her breath. His grip on her waist tightened, and he heard her little whine. “I can feel it―you don’t want me to stop.”

She swallowed hard, her hands clutching the counter like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Keeping her sane.

“You’re insane,” she said, but the tremor in her voice made it sound more like a confession than an insult.

He smirked, his hand sliding to the small of her back, fingers pressing just enough to make her arch into him. A shudder ran through him when he felt her rock-hard nipples poking against his chest, and his cock twitched beneath his towel. “Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But you’re the one who’s been sneaking around my kitchen, looking for an excuse to get closer.”

“I was not ―”

Whatever protest she was about to make died as he bent down, his mouth ghosting over the side of her neck, not quite kissing, but enough to scramble her thoughts. Her breath hitched, her body warm under his touch, every nerve on edge as he tilted both their worlds on its axis.

Ilya’s fingers twitched at his sides, aching to rip off the thin barrier of fabric between them and map every inch of her bare skin. Every inch of restraint Ilya had left was unraveling with every breathless sound she made, with the way her body softened under his touch, her skin flushed and warm against his.

His fingers gripped her hips like a lifeline, but his mind was consumed by far filthier thoughts.

He wanted to take her right there, press her against the counter until she was trembling and helpless beneath him. He wanted to spread her legs wide and sink his throbbing cock into her slick, pulsing heat, to claim her in a way that left no room for denial. The image of her arching against him, her blood-red nails dragging across his back, carving marks into his skin as he fucked her hard enough to make her cry―God, it was driving him insane.

He could already imagine it: her moans turning into desperate pleas, her body writhing beneath his as he pushed her to the edge over and over again. And when he was done, he’d pull out, his cock aching as he spilled himself all over her soft thighs and trembling stomach, painting her in his cum like she belonged to him.

The thought of it wasn’t enough. No, he wanted more. He’d lick every drop from her skin, tasting her sweat, savoring her, before spitting it into her pretty little mouth and making her swallow it down, every filthy inch of his claim.

His grip tightened, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep himself from snapping. The air between them was electric, heavy with tension that begged to be broken. It took everything in him to keep his hands from tearing away her clothes and giving in to the animalistic urge clawing at his control.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

Valentina raised an eyebrow, her smirk laced with mockery even though the want in her eyes was evident. “What’s the matter, Ilya? Cat got your tongue?”

Her voice was taunting, but it only poured gasoline on the inferno raging within him.

“I can think of better uses for my tongue, Printsessa ,” he growled, his voice low and thick with need.

Her eyes widened slightly, but before she could recover, Ilya was already closing the distance between them in one swift, decisive motion.

His mouth crashed against hers, hot and demanding, with a force that stole the air from her lungs. The kiss was nothing soft or hesitant. It was raw, electric, and utterly consuming, like he was staking his claim and refusing to let go.

Valentina’s hands flew to his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t stop him. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that scrambled her thoughts, his stubble grazing her skin in a way that sent shivers racing down her spine.

He tilted her head back, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers in a heated, sinfully slow stroke that made her knees buckle. She gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound like it was fuel for the fire raging between them.

His teeth scraped against her willing tongue before he sucked it into his mouth. His hand wrapped firmly around her neck, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to send her pulse racing. He dominated her completely, tilting her head further back to grant him full access as he sucked greedily, hungrily on her tongue.

His other hand left her waist, sliding down to her ass, grabbing and squeezing so hard she moaned into his mouth. His fingers dug into her flesh, claiming a fistful like it was his right, like she belonged to him. The hard press of his erection against her stomach made her grind her hips against him, seeking the friction that had him spiraling.

A low, guttural growl erupted from his throat, vibrating against her lips as his grip on her tightened. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging and pulling as she kissed him back with equal ferocity, both of them fighting for dominance in a battle that felt as primal as it was inevitable.

He won, of course. He always did. His hold on her ass strengthened, guiding her body as he delivered one hard, deliberate roll of his hips against hers. The motion set heat coursing through him, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel every inch of her. It was intoxicating, maddening, and it only left him craving more.

Just before he could surrender completely to his desires, he forced himself to step back, breaking their heated kiss with a sharp breath and a wet smack that echoed in the kitchen. His body screamed at the sudden loss of contact, his hands flexing at his sides as if itching to pull her back in.

But he couldn’t give in. Not right now. She was playing some kind of twisted game, and he needed to figure out what it was before she turned the tables on him.

Ilya clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay rooted in place even as the intoxicating lust threatened to consume him. His eyes trailed over her disheveled form―her chest rising and falling with every heavy breath, the tight peaks of her nipples visible through the thin fabric of her shirt, her cheeks flushed that perfect shade of red, and her lips swollen and wet from their kiss.

“That’s all you’ve got?” he sneered, his voice cold and cutting despite the storm raging inside him, despite how heavy his heart slammed against his ribcage. “I expected more fight from you, Valentina. But maybe that’s just who you are: all bark and no bite.”

Valentina’s eyes widened, her lips parted in disbelief, cheeks still flushed from their kiss. Then he saw the fury slam into her, fast and blinding. She didn’t even give herself a moment to think―she lunged at him, her fists aiming for his chest.

“You asshole!” she growled, slamming her palms into him. “You sick son of a bitch. You’re such a condescending prick, you know that? You think you’re so fucking untouchable, don’t you? You think you’re some god to be worshipped? You think you can just fucking kiss me and vomit bullshit like that?” Her voice cracked with frustration as she landed another shove against his chest.

Ilya stumbled back slightly, more out of surprise than anything else, and his lips curled into an amused smirk. “Is this how you handle rejection? By throwing a tantrum?”

Her rage only flared hotter, and she went for him again, this time clawing at his shoulders. “You make me sick, Ilya. You think everything’s a stupid little game, don’t you?”

Ilya caught her wrists mid-swing, his grip firm but not painful as he yanked her closer. Their breaths mingled, her chest heaving against his, and for a moment, he thought she might spit fire at him.

“Careful, Valentina,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you like it when I push your buttons.”

Her teeth clenched, but her glare wavered as his words sunk in. He could see the hate swimming in her eyes, and then, with venom on her tongue, she spat, “ Fuck you. ”

Before he knew it, she was tackling him to the floor, their struggle becoming more heated than either of them expected. Valentina twisted beneath him, her nails digging into his forearms as she tried to buck him off. Ilya, amused and impressed by her strength, allowed her to push him momentarily off balance before he shifted his weight, easily pinning her back down with his body.

“Not bad, Princess,” he teased as she squirmed beneath him, her thigh brushing dangerously against his groin. “But you’re not going to win this one.”

“Get off me, you freak!” she hissed, her nails scraping his skin again.

“You really want me to let go?” he challenged, his grip tightening on her wrists. Their bodies rocked together as she struggled, and he felt his control slipping as the heat from their kiss returned, burning brighter with every brush of their bodies together. Her intoxicating scent, the warmth of her skin, the way her chest rose and fell just inches from his―all of it was driving him to the edge.

She stilled for a moment, glaring up at him, her cheeks flushed and lips parted. He could see the fire in her eyes, but he also saw something raw and unspoken.

His jaw tightened, his body screaming at him to take this further, but his mind pulled him back. This wasn’t how he wanted it. He wanted her to come to him willingly, to crave him as much as he craved her. Not just for some sick display of who had the most power over the other.

With a sharp exhale, Ilya released her wrists and leaned back, ignoring his body protesting every second of distance. “You put up a good fight, Princess,” he said with a smirk, his tone deceptively casual. “But next time, maybe think twice before attacking someone twice your size.”

She glared at him, her breath still heavy, her body still trembling from the unresolved tension between them. He could see the frustration in her eyes as he stood and offered her a hand to help her up.

Valentina slapped it away with all her might, getting to her feet on her own. “You’re insufferable,” she spat, but her voice wavered, betraying the whirlwind of emotions she was trying to suppress.

Ilya chuckled darkly, stepping back to give her space. “And you’re as predictable as always,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave. “But don’t worry. I’ll be here when you’re ready to admit what you really want.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, seething and undeniably affected. Once back in the room, Ilya yanked off his towel, his body thrumming with unrelenting tension.

His cock, rock-hard and aching, demanded release. Gripping himself tightly, he furiously stroked up and down, his jaw clenched, his mind consumed by memories of her moans, her lips swollen from their kiss in the kitchen. The sound of her voice, the way she gasped and melted against him―it pushed him over the edge faster than he liked to admit.

A feral groan escaped him as he came, spilling ropes of cum over his hand, his chest heaving with the force of it. But even with the release, his frustration remained. She was tormenting him, relentlessly fighting what they both knew was inevitable. And yet, despite making his intentions clear, she continued to resist, and it was driving him insane.

Needing to clear his head, Ilya cleaned up and threw on some clothes before storming out of the lodge. The crisp air of the woods bit at his skin as he wandered aimlessly, his thoughts racing. He needed space, a moment to regain control of himself before he did something he couldn’t take back.

But after thirty minutes of pacing through the woods, the creeping realization that something was off hit him like a punch to the gut. He froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as dread churned in his stomach.

When he returned to the lodge, his suspicions were confirmed. His phone was missing. His car keys―gone.

“Fuck!” he roared, his fists slamming against the counter as he pieced it together.

She had taken his car. And she was gone.