Page 34 of Twisted Proposal

"Little girl, there is so much I could do to you. So many things," I said, my voice a rough caress that had her shivering in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

She rose up on her knees, her body closer to mine, cold water still raining down on her, and her bottom lip shivered a little, plump and inviting.

"Why do you care?" she asked, barely audible over the spray of the shower. A drop of water sat just above the dip in her perfect cupid's bow lip, trembling there like a crystalline offering.

I wanted to reach out with my tongue and taste it, taste her, claim her mouth until she surrendered.

"I thought you came here to learn not to be stupid," I growled.

I grabbed her hair and pulled it back, forcing her to look up at me, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat. The wet strands wrapped around my fingers like silk ropes.

She met my eyes, her breath catching. This time, it wasn't fear that gripped her. The darkening of her pupils, the parting of her lips, the subtle arch of her body toward me—that was desire, raw and undeniable, mirroring the hunger that clawed at my insides.

CHAPTER13

VIKTORIA

Artem's gray eyes darkened as he stared at my lips, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Despite the shower’s freezing temperature, my body heated at the idea of his lips on mine.

What did he taste like? Pure power and dominance, if I were to bet.

Like sin and chocolate and all the depraved things I dared to think about only in the darkest part of the night.

His grip on my hair tightened, sending a shock of hunger racing down my spine to my core. Then he let me go and moved back to the door. "Sober up and get out."

He turned his back on me, and I sat back in the freezing water.

I was sobering up, but it had nothing to do with the shower. If anything, it was the anger and humiliation reddening my cheeks that were getting the job done. An emotional flambé, burning away the effects of the alcohol I’d drunk at the party.

Tears of rejection stung behind my eyes, but I blinked them back.

I refused to cry over a man. Especially this man. Not here, not now, not ever.

It was bad enough that Artem saw me drunk. He wouldn't see my tears.

Dima was the one who taught me to never let the bastards see you weak.

I was going to get up, dry myself off as best as possible, and walk out that door. I’d figure out how to get back to my dorm when I got outside. I was pretty sure this was a new level of the walk of shame, but I would be damned if I'd let anyone, especially him, look down on me, belittle or control me, because I decided to have fun for one night.

It took a little longer than I would have liked, but I got myself together and crawled out of the shower, my body trembling from the cold. I wrapped a towel from a warming rack around myself, right over my dripping clothes.

Thank god for idiots with too much money and their ridiculous luxuries. The soft, heated cotton warmed me enough that my teeth stopped chattering, and my fingers and toes were no longer numb.

As quietly as I could, I closed the bathroom door behind me, not wanting to let Artem know I was out. With any luck, I would be halfway down the block before he knew I was gone. I spared only a moment to look at the suite.

It was beautiful, but cold. The furniture was luxurious but lacked personality, all gleaming black glass and metal with accents of gold. The focus of the room was the massive wall-to-wall windows that looked out over the glittering city below.

It was a breathtaking view, fit for a man in power. The kind of man that ran a city and liked to look over his kingdom. It was perfect for Artem.

I turned my back on the view. It didn't interest me. I was not a master of the universe. I didn't care about watching the peasants on the street. Or controlling the kingdom I claimed.

I cared about leaving. I took one step toward the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" A low growl came from behind me.

I jumped and lost my grip on the towel, which slid to the floor. Artem stood in another doorway that must have led to the bedroom.

He had taken off his suit jacket and was working on unfastening the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling the sleeves up to just under his elbows, exposing his thick, tattooed forearms.