Low, rumbling laughter shakes his chest and I’m not all too sure he’s not considering spreading me out over his knee for a good spanking with how his eyes turn glacier. The tick in his jaw is erratic and the hand he has on my hip tightens—both in total contrast to the laugh. I wonder if his victims have a hard time reading him too? Right before he kills them.
Morbid thoughts I don’t want to consider.
Maxim laughs thinly this time. “We’ll see about that.”
His voice is all business and he acts like it’s perfectly normal to break into my place to harass me about my new hair color, but when I glance into his face the heat in his eyes is undeniable. I’m thrown back to our one-night stand and the fire that blazed through us in those few short hours still holds the power to steal my breath.
The hand holding me in place teases over my tummy and I catch myself from sighing with pleasure. I’ve craved to feel his touch for seven long days. Now that his hands are back on me it is a real test of my willpower to deny myself what I want.
Don’t break, Vannah. Don’t break.
“Maxim, you bastard. Let go of me.” My voice shakes with forced confidence. I shove at his chest but he doesn’t budge. The smirk on his face is slappable but I’m looking to not piss him off so that he kindly leaves after he finishes manhandling me.
“Bastard? Da, my siren. But I’ve been called worse. But coming from you is cute.” He walks us to the front door and sets me down to where I have little room to escape. When I try to cover myself, he brushes my hands away and trails the tips of his fingers over the roundness of my hips, and then finds the edge of my panties. I try to move away but his large form blocks my way.
“Maxim, what the hell do you want?” I huff with exasperation. He’s wearing a sexy pair of black dress pants and a simple pullover that has found every single groove on his torso. I force myself to keep my gaze trained on his instead of cruising over all that muscle on display.
“To play a little with my captive but we don’t have time for games.”
“You’re crazy,” I say flatly.
“Da.”
He braces an arm on the wall by my head and leans into where his lips move over the heated flesh of my shoulder. I tremble, my pulse quickening. “You thought you could run away from me. You were wrong.” He places a kiss like a full stop after each word driving me insane.
I chew on his words and don’t realize until it’s too late that I’ve bunched my hands in his shirt like I want him close and need his touch. There’s a flash of light through the living room window that catches his attention and the energy around us shifts from sultry to dangerous.
“It’s time to go,” he growls menacingly.
Raw power bleeds into his tone as though I don’t have another option. My eyes dart around for some sort of exit before he slings me over a shoulder and carts me out.
“It’s my neighbor. You can lower your hackles, mafia man.” I release his shirt. “They come home at this time every night.” I pause until he has time to digest my words.
“Maxim, you need to hear these words,” I say slowly.
His gaze swings to me and I’m nearly floored by their intensity. But I’m not a pushover. I jab a finger into his chest. “No,” I say clearly. “And for the record, I didn’t think I could leave, I did leave. Now it’s your turn to do the same before I call the cops.”
From the stone-cold look on his face, it’s safe to say he is not used to being told no. Too bad. I have no problem teaching him the phonetics of the word.
“You’re coming with me. Put up a fight and that just makes it more fun for me.”
I believe him.
“Do you have selective hearing?”
He flashes a half grin. “You’re pussy, your fucking heavenly mouth, god your haunting eyes. You have blinded me this past week. And I can’t afford the distraction. Only solution is to keep you close. And I hear just fine.”
“That sounds like a you problem, buddy.”
He draws near until the tips of our noses touch. “You have a short memory of what the bottom of the ocean feels like.”
Not really. I can barely take a shower without freaking the hell out at the feel of water on my skin. But instead of sharing that I seal my lips and return the hard glare.
“Fuck you, Maxim.”
That half grin turns into a full-on wolfish smile. “Da, malyshka. Soon enough. Business first. My problem is about to be your problem. I’m sure the East Syndicate is watching and just waiting. You come with me and don’t get killed. Or you stay and that forces me to stay because there is no way in hell I am leaving you here to die while pregnant with my child.”
This man and his one-track mind. There’s no way to keep the exasperation from seeping into my tone. “I’m on the pill, Maxim. You’re good. You don’t need to play the hero.” Part of me wants to shove a sock in my mouth. The very idea of the East Syndicate still sniffing around sends my heart thundering and my palms sweating. Having a guy with a gun around isn’t a bad idea. It’s the price tag attached that has me faltering.