To my dismay, my voice shakes, the lingering heat of his touch unsettling me nearly as much as the burning hunger with which he watches my retreat. Equally disturbing is the knowledge that we’re all alone in this room, that if he decides he wants menow, there’s little I can do to stop him.
Sure enough, he comes after me. Instinctively, I back away, but he keeps coming until my back is against a wall and there’s nowhere to run. But he’s still not satisfied. He braces his hands on either side of me, caging me in as he leans closer. “Why not?” His voice is dangerously soft. “Why don’t you want our betrothal?”
I stare up at him, struck dumb by the question. “Because I… because I don’t.” I’ve never thought about it in any sort of depth, but then again, why would I? One doesn’t need a reason to not want a hurricane to strike—or to not be forced into a marriage with a man whose family is rumored to be even worse than mine. Boris Leonov is famous for his creative torture methods, and given what happened with Josh and my tutor, I know Alexei isn’t all that different.
If I were to ever marry—and that’s a big if—I’d want a husband who’s the complete opposite of my father, not someone who’s even darker and more brutal.
Alexei leans in even closer, until his face is mere inches above mine and I can smell that subtle masculine cologne he wears, the one that makes me think of winter forests in the depths of night. “That’s not an answer. What is it that you’re objecting to? Me or the idea of marriage?”
“B-both.” Dammit, why did I stutter? Fighting the urge to shrink back from his intense stare, I add in a steadier voice, “I don’t want to marry, and I definitely don’t want you.”
“No?” Bending his elbow to lean on one forearm, he lifts his other hand off the wall to trail his fingertips over my jaw. A cruel curve appears on his lips as my breath catches in my throat, my body once again igniting from his touch. “You don’t want me at all, Alinyonok? Not even a little bit?”
I don’t trust my vocal cords to work, so I attempt a headshake. My heart is pounding so hard I’m certain he can hear it, and my skin is on fire where he’s touched it and all around. Worse yet, I can feel an insidious slickness drenching my core, dampening the silky fabric of my panties. That empty, pulsing ache that plagues me so frequently these days is sharper than ever, making me want to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the worst of it. Except that wouldn’t help, I know, and neither would pressing my hand against the spot where the ache originates. I need more, crave more—such ashishand there—but even with the pills clouding my mind, I know I can’t give in to the urgings of my body.
Not if I want my freedom.
His smile turns crueler yet, even as savage hunger burns in his eyes. “Prove it then. Prove that you don’t want me, and I’ll let you walk away. Forever, if you want to.”
Forever? As in… he’ll let me out of the betrothal?
My heart throbs in my throat as I stare up at him, overwhelmed by a wild mixture of emotions. If it’s true, if he means it… “Prove it how?”
His gaze drops to my lips. “A kiss.” His voice roughens. “One proper kiss, that’s all.”
Oh, fuck. My head swims as a violent wave of heat washes over me and the ache between my legs intensifies. A kiss. It shouldn’t be a big deal—probably wouldn’t be for any other girl my age—but for me, it’s Mount Everest.
It would be my very first kiss, something I’ve dreamed and fantasized about for years.
It would also play right into his hands because as inexperienced as I am, I know what my body’s reactions signify. Physically, I want him. No matter how hard I’ve tried to fight it, his face is the one I always see in those fantasies of mine, his lips the ones I dream about when I envision my first kiss.
No.
I can’t.
I won’t.
At least that’s what I plan to say, but he doesn’t let me. Cupping my face in one big palm, he swoops in and takes what I haven’t given.
My first kiss.
His lips are warm and soft against mine, his breath flavored with a hint of cinnamon. I gasp as he sweeps his tongue over the closed seam of my lips, and he ruthlessly takes advantage, invading the recesses of my mouth, overwhelming me with his taste, his scent, his feel… with sensations so intimate and novel that my eyes squeeze shut and my hazy brain shuts off entirely, leaving me at the mercy of my body and the scorching heat throbbing between my legs. I forget that I’m supposed to hate him, that he’s the enemy who may soon deprive me of my freedom. I forget that this is a test I can’t afford to fail and what will happen if I do.
I forget everything, and I kiss him back.
My arms wind around his neck, my body pressing against his in mindless need as I respond with all the hunger I’ve been suppressing, all the passion I’ve been denying. I can feel the hard bulge of his erection against my stomach, and it fuels the heated frenzy inside me, feeding the arousal that’s been years in the making.
A low growl rumbles in Alexei’s throat at my response, and his kiss turns violent, almost bruising. Because he’s wanted me all this time too, I realize dazedly. Because his need is as strong as mine. Gripping my hair, he arches my head back, exposing my neck, and a choked moan escapes my throat as he drags his open mouth over it, his hot, biting kisses burning my tender skin. At the same time, he runs his other hand down the side of my body, his palm skating over my shoulder, my ribcage, the dip of my waist, the curve of my hip… His fingers close over the fleshy part of my ass, squeezing it hard, and then he bunches the skirt of my dress in his fist, pulling it up.
A distant alarm bell clangs in my mind as cool air washes over my bare legs, but it’s quickly drowned out by a scorching new wave of sensations as his fingers delve between my thighs, locating the source of my throbbing ache under the soaked silk of my underwear.
“Fuck, yeah. You’re so wet,” he breathes in my ear, and hot shame washes over me, perversely heightening my arousal.
This is everything I’ve fantasized about and more, and the knowledge that he’s the one touching my slick folds, that it’s his fingers on my flesh, not mine, makes this both oh-so wrong and infinitely hotter.
I need to put a stop to this, right now, but I can’t think with those clever fingers doing wicked things to me, can’t voice a coherent protest with his teeth grazing over my neck, his tongue teasing the tender underside of my ear. All I can do is pant and moan, gripping the shoulders of his jacket, as the heated tension in my core builds and builds until it’s like a coiled spring inside me. His fingers are now moving in a circle, somehow intuiting just the right rhythm, and my heart races madly as the sensations intensify unbearably. Every muscle in my body locks, my breath hissing through my clenched teeth as what feels like a tsunami rises inside me. Dark and potent, it carries me ever higher until I’m certain I’m going to die from it.
“That’s it. Give in to it, my sweet beauty.” His voice is a soft growl in my ear as he pinches my throbbing clit, hard, and the tsunami wave crests and crashes down, wrenching me over the edge I’ve come close to but never crossed before. My mouth parts in a wordless cry as my inner muscles clench and release with cataclysmic, violent pulsations, and white-hot ecstasy blasts me apart. Only his hand between my legs and my death grip on the shoulders of his jacket keep me from sinking to the floor as my knees buckle, my muscles no longer able to hold me up as spasm after spasm racks my body.