Page 5 of Twisted Pact

“I’m not interested in becoming another notch on your bedpost.”

“Who said anything about bedposts?” I plant a hand beside her head. “Maybe I just want to see if you taste as good as you look.”

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.” I lean in closer. “But you’re not pushing me away.”

“That’s because—” She stops herself, but I can see the wheels turning behind her hazel eyes.

“Because what, Zaika?”

“Stop calling me that. You’re just as afraid as I am,” she blurts out. “Afraid of what happens if you have to work for something instead of having it handed to you?”

“You think I’m afraid?”

“I think you’ve never had to chase anything in your life. Women fall at your feet. Business deals close with a phone call. You snap your fingers, and people jump.” She tilts her chin up in defiance. “But I didn’t jump. I said no. And that’s what bothers you about me.”

She’s right. And I hate that she’s right.

“You want me to chase you, Mila? Is that it?”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not?—”

I cut off her protest by closing the distance between us and crushing my mouth against hers. It’s not gentle or sweet. It’s rough and demanding, and I expect her to shove me away and slap me for my presumption.

Instead, she makes a little sound. And kisses me back.

Her lips are soft. Insistent. They match my aggression. When I trace the seam of her mouth with my tongue, she shivers before she opens for me. She tastes like champagne and something… sweet… with an edge of bitterness that makes me want more.

I press her to the wall, and my hands find her waist. She fists my shirt like she might tear it.

“This is a mistake,” she gasps when I drag my mouth down her throat.

“Probably.”

“Someone might see us.”

“Let them.”

I find the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and bite gently. She arches against me, and I feel every curve of her body through the thin silk of her dress. The way she responds—unguarded and honest—makes my cock throb.

“Alexei.” My name comes out breathless, and I’ve never heard anything more perfect.

“Tell me to stop,” I growl, sliding my hands up her ribs, and feeling her every shaky breath. “Say you don’t want this.”

“I—” Her protest breaks into a moan when I cup her breast.

“That’s what I thought.”

I capture her mouth again, swallowing whatever protest she was about to make. Her hands slide from my shirt to my hair, and she tugs hard enough to sting. The pain only makes me harder.

My other hand slides down her body, over the curve of her hip, and to the hem of her dress. The silk rides up under my palm, and then I’m touching bare skin. Her thigh trembles under my fingers.

“Last chance, Zaika.” I pull back to study her face. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Tell me no, and I’ll walk away.”