Page 12 of Sin in My Inbox (Sexting Spark #1)

Avery

The massive ballroom felt hot and suffocating, the air so thick I could barely breathe.

Dmitri's hand rested steadily at the small of my back, his other hand intertwined with mine as he spun me around.

The crystal chandelier's blazing light was blinding; countless blurred faces filled with judgment flew past in my peripheral vision like the garish painted figures on a carousel from hell.

The overwhelming perfume in the air mixed with his unique scent of cold tobacco and leather, flooding my nostrils and making me dizzy.

"Thomas really surprised me this time, finding such a good girl from the straight world," Dmitri's voice slid low across my ear, cutting through the chaos of the music. "He didn't tell you?"

Of course Thomas didn't tell me—because I wasn't Ella at all. I instinctively looked away, feeling guilty as hell.

Dmitri chuckled softly, guiding me through a smooth spin. My skirt flared out, and I nearly tripped over my heels, only his strong arm keeping me from making a fool of myself. "So guess—who am I? "

Guess? My mind flashed through everything that had happened today—his scarred chest, that phone call outside the dressing room, his silent, tattooed driver, and his intense confrontation with that dangerous man. Words slipped out before I could stop them. "You're mafia?"

The instant those words left my mouth, Dmitri's reaction was lightning-fast. His arm around my waist tightened like a steel band, an irresistible force pulling me backward.

I gasped as he bent me into a dramatic dip.

The world flipped upside down, the crystal chandelier's harsh light piercing straight into my pupils.

All the noise, music, voices—everything was stripped away in that moment, leaving only his face suddenly inches from mine.

"Smart girl. Here's your reward." His deep voice carried scorching breath across my lips.

He kissed me right there in the center of the dance floor.

Countless stares felt like actual needles stabbing into my exposed neck, arms, and this forced, bent-back position as I received his kiss.

I should have been scared, terrified, and embarrassed enough to run away immediately. But instead, I felt incredibly excited. His scent wrapped around me, making me fall hopelessly under his spell. My hands involuntarily gripped his collar tighter, my lips responding eagerly under his guidance.

At first, I could still hear people's curious and jealous whispers, but gradually those penetrating stares faded away, as if the whole world had shrunk down to just him.

Dizziness crashed over me like a wave. I stumbled, instinctively raising my hand, trembling fingers pressed against my burning, tingling lips. Dmitri stood in the center of the dance floor's spotlight, head tilted slightly, watching me with complete composure.

He really was a fucking mobster! This realization hit my brain like a sledgehammer, instantly making my head spin, the expensive floor beneath my feet seeming to sway. But what made me feel even more ashamed—even panicked—was that my heart didn't hold even a trace of the fear I should have felt .

Instead, looking at that dangerously sexy man standing in the light, one absurd but crystal-clear thought exploded in my mind:

Fuck! Modern gangsters are hot enough to make your knees weak.

Just then, a malicious, ice-cold stare pierced through the back of my neck without warning!

This wasn't Dmitri's controlling gaze. This stare was darker, more viscous, like a snake's slimy scales sliding across skin. Primal fear instantly grabbed me, making every hair on my body stand up, my blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

I whipped around, my heart practically jumping out of my throat. My eyes frantically scanned the dim corners and massive column shadows around the ballroom's edges.

Crowds of people, perfumed and jeweled. Champagne towers reflected dazzling light, servers weaved through with silver trays. Everything was glamorous and noisy, completely normal.

Was it my imagination? Too much stress?

"What's wrong?" Dmitri's deep voice broke through.

"N-nothing," I snapped back to reality. "Just feeling a little stuffy. I want to get some air."

"Alright." He nodded slightly, his arm naturally circling my waist again.

He guided me through the noisy dance floor with the posture of a protector—or possessor.

I could feel more curious and judgmental gazes sticking to us, especially to me.

Those stares were like needles pricking my exposed skin.

I forced myself to keep my spine straight, maintaining a stiff smile, every step feeling like walking on thin ice.

Finally pushing open the heavy carved glass doors to the terrace, a cool night breeze hit my face, dispersing the stale heat from the ballroom. The terrace was spacious with few people—just a scattered few couples talking quietly, the night wind carrying their faint laughter.

I greedily sucked in the cool air, trying to calm my racing heart. Dmitri released his arm from my waist, casually leaning against the cold railing, turning to look at me. Moonlight outlined his sharp profile, those eyes appearing even more unfathomable in the darkness .

"Better?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Yeah, much better," I answered quietly, forcing myself to look toward the distant glittering lights.

The terrace air should have been relaxing, but that cold, viscous feeling of being watched not only didn't disappear—it became clearer and more bone-chilling in the relatively quiet environment. It clung to my back with naked malice.

Not my imagination. Definitely not.

I spun around, my back against the cold stone railing, frantically scanning the terrace entrance.

The massive glass door to the terrace opened again. A server carrying an empty tray walked out. Just as the server stepped aside, in the bright light spilling from inside, a familiar figure that made my blood instantly freeze appeared clearly in my sight.

Jimmy! He was in the shadows inside the doorframe, just steps away from the terrace.

Fuck!

My gaze frantically swept the terrace, suddenly fixing on the right side—there was a narrow door the same color as the wall, slightly ajar with dim light seeping through. Storage room? Break room? Didn't matter!

In a split second, I spun around and practically lunged to grab Dmitri's wrist.

"I know a good place, come with me!" I lowered my voice, pulling Dmitri, almost dragging him as I stumbled toward that narrow door.

Dmitri clearly hadn't expected my sudden move. His tall frame paused slightly, but he obediently let me lead him down the dim corridor. I could feel his gaze moving along the back of my neck, that scrutiny making my spine chill, but I didn't dare look back.

I pushed open the inconspicuous door and quickly pulled him inside.

The storage room was packed with junk—abandoned furniture, dusty wine crates, and several faded paintings leaning against the corner.

The air reeked of old wood and alcohol, with only one dim yellow bulb precariously lighting this cramped space, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"This is your idea of a good place?" Dmitri slowly turned around, his back against the door, his tone disturbingly calm. There was no emotional fluctuation in his voice, but that very calmness filled me with dread. "Ella, what are you running from?"

Shit, how was I supposed to explain this?

In desperation, I took a deep breath, stood on my tiptoes, and recklessly pressed my lips against his. My heart was thundering, hoping this kiss could distract him and make him forget his question.

But he didn't respond with his usual passion. He let my lips rest against his without any reaction.

"You think you can dodge me like that?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl against my ear. "You think I'm that easy to play?"

My heart was a mess, pounding as I stared into his face, so close I could feel his breath. I had no comeback, no way to wiggle out of this.

A few seconds of dead silence hung between us. Then, out of nowhere, his hand shoved me back, fingers clamping onto the back of my neck with a grip so firm it pulled a gasp from my lips. He flipped the script, pinning me against the cold wall behind me, his mouth crashing into mine.

This wasn't a kiss—it was punishment, pure and simple.

A fucking takeover. He ripped away every shred of pretense, none of his usual restraint in sight.

It was a storm, brutal and all-consuming, his lips forcing mine open, tongue diving in, sucking, biting, like he wanted to devour me whole.

I could barely breathe, my air stolen by his hunger.

When we finally broke apart, we were both gasping for air. My back pressed against the icy wall, his hands still caging me, palms flat on my shoulders, trapping me in his orbit.

He was onto me. I knew I had to say something—anything—to shatter this deadly quiet.

I fought to steady my breathing, forcing my voice to sound casual. "I just wanted some alone time with you."

Dmitri went still. That silence was worse than any accusation, his icy eyes locked on mine, like he could see straight through to my soul. I'd never seen him look like this—calm, deep, and fucking terrifying. It made me want to spill everything right then and there.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and deliberate. "You want me, huh? "

I nodded, swallowing hard. "You're extra hot at night."

He smirked, slow and dangerous. "Then show me, baby." He raised his hands in mock surrender, that killer grin spreading across his face. "I'm all yours."

Fuck, this man. Hands up, looking like he was offering himself on a platter, he ignited something primal deep inside me. A wave of raw, reckless need surged through me, screaming to claim him.