Page 54 of Scarred Angel

“No,” I snap, whipping my gaze to his in the mirror. “You’re letting my dad get to you. And it’s pissing me off.”

His jaw tightens. “What did I say?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You called mekid.”

He exhales a sharp breath, his eyes cutting down the empty hallway before coming back to me. He steps closer. “Valentina?—”

“No.” My voice cracks through his. “I don’t want to hear it. Just minutes before that, you said the same thing to Matteo. He’s fourteen, Maksim.”

His voice drops. “What do you want from me?”

“Stop running.”

Too angry to think, I spin carelessly, clip the edge of a crutch, and pitch forward. But before the hardwood collides with my face, his arms are around me, catching me, lifting me clean off the floor, and holding me bridal-style against his chest.

There’s the faintest curve at his lips. “Not much has changed with you, huh? Still stubborn as fuck. Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

I glare at him, pulse racing out of control. “Says the guy who almost killed me.”

His brows lift. “That’s some below-the-belt kind of shit, Valentina Cain.”

But I know that look—the way his eyes drop to my mouth and linger, the shallow breaths, the rough swallow. He can pretend all he wants, but I see it.

“And you’re wrong,” I murmur. “Everything’s changed. I know you know that.”

His grip on me tightens. “What do I know?”

“Never took you for a man who needs things spelled out.”

A dark chuckle vibrates through his chest, the sound jolting straight through me, like a fuse ready to blow.

“Say truth,” I whisper.

“Truth.”

I brush my lips against his jaw, slow enough to feel him tense. “Don’tevercall me kid. I’m not that little girl anymore. I’m twenty-fucking-two, Maksim. I drink. I drive. And I fuck.”

His breath catches, rough through his nose.

“If you knew how wet I am right now…” My mouth grazes his ear. “And I forgot to wear panties.”

His teeth grind audibly, the growl rumbling out of him raw.

“Ask me,” he demands.

And somehow, I know exactly what he means.

“Truth or dare, Maxy?”

“Dare. Fucking dare.”

A grin pulls at my mouth. “I dare you to take what you want. To take what’s yours.”

Maksim grips my thigh hard enough that I know it’ll bruise. And I want it to. A mark I’ll wear like a trophy, proof that I make him lose control, that he breaks his restraint because of me.

“I need one thing from you, Kolibri.”

The word drags goosebumps up my arms, hits me the way it always does.