“No, it doesn’t.” My frown deepens, only to feel Kirill’s thumb glide from one side of my bottom lip to the other.
“I hate that you have to deal with this,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’ve got people who love you enough to fight with you.”
“Don’t you have people too?” I ask, my voice coming out far too breathless for my liking.
Kirill removes his thumb from my lip, and the instant emptiness annoys me more than it should.
“I have my brothers.”
“Only your brothers? There isn’t a wife or fiancée waiting for you back in Moscow? Or some girl in the city living rent-free in your apartment as we speak?”
“No wife. No fiancée. And definitely no girl.” He chuckles.
“Too busy withBratvamayhem to have time to date?”
“No. Not too busy. I just haven’t found anyone I’d actually want to spend time with.”
I keep my mouth shut. I’m not about to point out that he looks more than happy to have chosen to spend his time with me tonight. Still, something tells me he’s well aware. In fact, it’s the only thing on his mind as his eyes drop to my lips.
“Do you want to kiss me, Kill?” I ask point-blank.
“Yes. Very much.”
I lick my lips, my heart racing more at the intensity behind his eyes than his confession.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
A teasing curl pulls at the corner of his mouth. “A promise I made to myself.”
“And what promise was that?”
“Thatyou’dbe the one begging me to kiss you.”
My smile stretches wider.
“I see. And do you always keep your promises?”
“I’m having a hard time remembering,” he retorts with a low laugh, though the humor never reaches his eyes. They’re a dark abyss of want and hunger, fixed entirely on me.
“Do you want me to beg?” I ask, batting my eyelashes mockingly.
“Don’t toy with me, Stella. I’m at the brink as it is.”
I lean closer, his lips just a whisper from mine. It would be so easy to give in… to close the gap, to finally taste him. But he still needs to suffer a little more for that stunt he pulled back at school. Even if I might regret it later.
“Stella,” he murmurs, his chest rising slowly. “Are you going to take me out of my misery?”
I move closer still, my arms tightening around his neck as our mouths hover in the same sliver of air. “I would if I could,” I whisper, “but Romanos don’t beg.”
I start to pull away, intending to leave, when Kirill catches by the waist and swings me back until my chest is pressed against his.
“Romanos might not beg,” he rasps, “but we Petrovs? We take what we want.”
In the next heartbeat, his lips are on mine, one hand threading through my hair, the other tightening at my waist to hold me in place.
I’ve been kissed before. And I’ve had more than my share of fun in almost every department. But kissing Kirill is something else entirely. He’s all man. Dominant. Possessive. Hungry. His mouth claims mine, hot and certain, and for a few stolen seconds, I forget every reason I shouldn’t let him.
The kiss starts rough, as if he’d been holding it back for years, but it softens almost immediately. The pressure eases, and his lips move over mine in a rhythm that feels dangerously natural.
