Once inside her bedroom, I blocked her door with a huge oak table that weighed twice as much as she did. It was a shitty substitute for my best guards, but it would do the job for now. I was too tired to think of anything better.
She stood there with her arms crossed, petulant and snotty. Staring her right in the eye, I stripped out of my filthy clothes until I was naked in front of her. Tired as I was, I was still hard for her. That would never change.
She looked at my cock, crossing her arms tighter. “If you think I’m going to have sex with you, you can think again.”
Christ. I mean, hell yes, I wanted to be inside her. Of fucking course I did. But two things stopped me. First, I needed her to know that this thing between us was about way more than just sex. And second, I was fucking wrecked.
“I can barely keep my damned eyes open,” I told her, as I climbed into her frilly, soft princess bed. I scooted to the far side and held the covers up, waiting for her to join me.
She didn’t. She just stood there, watching. Deciding. With those sexy pursed lips.
Dropping the covers, I forced myself to look away. The way she was holding her arms made her cleavage spill over her forearm and I knew if I got too damned turned on, I’d never be able to stop myself from taking her. Funneling my pent-up desire, I punched her pillow and stuffed it under my head.
“Fine. Do whatever you want,” I told her, yawning as I closed my eyes.
Maybe ten seconds passed, maybe twenty. But just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the sweet sound of her kicking off her boots before climbing into bed beside me. She blew out the candle and then, once we were in darkness, I pulled her close, cradling her body against mine. She was still dressed, but I’d take it. I had her in my arms again. That was all that fucking mattered.
Chapter 16
Anika
There I was, in the arms of my naked brother, so wound up with emotions that I could barely close my eyes to blink, never mind sleep. I had so many questions that still needed to be answered. Where did he go? What in the world had he been doing? Why didn’t he take me with him?
The only reason I softened was there could have been a note. I would have missed it in my haste to get to the door, knocking the water pitcher over, the maid cleaning it up…all very plausible but I was still so mad I couldn’t admit to Maksim yet that I believed him about the note.
And what about the fleshmarket auctions? Is that what he had been doing? Buying up young girls to use for himself? Was that part still true?
I slid my eyes over his body in the bluish moonlight that peeked through my window. Here he was, finally, back with me, but he was so tired that he couldn’t answer even a single question?
The sheet was barely wrapped around him, and my eyes got stuck on his muscular, marble-like butt and hips. And those V-shaped muscles that ran down to his groin, pointing right to his…
Stop it. I clamped my eyes shut. Until I knew otherwise, he was still a monster. Until he explained himself, I still hated him. So much.
But then, there was all he had said in the garden. Those tears, those words. It had taken my breath away in the moment and pinched my heart now. Finally, after all this time, he had opened up to me. To tell me he loved me. And would never, ever leave me. Like it or not.
Hate and love, Maria said. Those near enemies that are so close they can merge into one. Like night becoming day. It seemed I was well and truly in the dusk between hating him and loving him.
He shifted beside me, making my hand fall gently on the pillow between us. I rolled over slightly, just a shift of my hips to get a better look at him. He was so beautiful. So perfect in every way. Without even planning to, I gently caressed the side of his cheek, softly running my fingertips over the stubble that was longer and darker now than I had ever seen it. He looked more handsome, more rugged, and more irresistible than ever.
He grumbled when I touched him, drawing his face away slightly. But now that I’d felt his skin, I was hopelessly entangled in the need to be closer to him. With only my fingertip, I traced a line down his shoulder, his upper arm, and up his thick and veined forearm.
“Anika,” he growled against the pillow which was smashed against his cheek. “Seriously. Let me rest.”