With my eyes locked on his—and wearing as much disdain as I can physically muster—I give his phone a ring.
“And now I have yours,” he says, satisfied.
“And why exactly do you need my number?”
“Maybe because I want to hear your voice whenever it suits me.”
“Do women really fall for this shit?” I ask, trying to pull away, but his thighs cage me in place while his hands settle on my waist.
I could easily get out of this trap. But for some reason, I don’t.
“I’m going to send you an address tonight,” he says, his voice smooth like silk. “If you want our dance to continue, be there at midnight.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then I’ll know you’re not interested.”
“Interested in what exactly? You? Please. I’ve been more intrigued by drying paint,” I say with a dry laugh, but it dies instantly under the heat of his stare. That intensity hits like a live wire, burning through every lie I’m trying to hold up.
“Are you saying you’re not?” he goads, wrapping his tattooed fingers around my throat and gently pulling me in.
“You’d be the last man who could ever interest me.”
“Now, now,milaya. I don’t mind you lying to me whenever you feel the need, but some lies are too incredible to believe,” he breathes out, his face merely inches away from mine.
“God, you’re a piece of work,” I retort, nostrils flaring.
“And you are a work of art.”
This fucker. Why does he have to say shit like that when he knows damn well it sends my heartbeat into orbit? Asshole.
“What’s happening at midnight?” I deflect, refusing to engage in his brand of flirting.
“A bit of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I ask, my interest instantly piqued.
“The kind that involves a little bloodshed.” My pupils must blow wide as saucers, because I swear I feel his erection press against my stomach in response. “I see that has your attention. You truly are a woman after my own heart,” he murmurs, licking his lips, dying to get a taste.
Kirill wants to kiss me. I see it as clearly as daylight. But after last night, kissing him should be the last thing on my to-do list. Even if I’m somewhat tempted, kissing him in the middle of the campus parking lot would be… yeah, a monumental mistake.
Who knows who’s watching us? And by who, I mean Marcello. Sure, he bought my excuse last night, but with him, I never know. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, doubt crept into that paranoid head of his, and he decided to show up at my school to do a little investigating. Honestly? That’s exactly what I’d do if the roles were reversed.
Knowing I need some distance, I press my hands to Kirill’s chest again, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat for one traitorous moment before pushing myself out of his hold. My brows pull together when I realize I barely have to use any force as he lets me go with slow, deliberate ease.
“Just send me the address,” I say, heading for the driver’s side and quickly sliding in, before he has a chance to say anything else.
Kirill stands there in front of me, thumb sweeping across his lush lower lip, eyes burning holes straight through the windshield.
“Tonight,” he mouths, then he turns and walks away, disappearing into the sea of cars.
Instead of turning the ignition, I press my temple against the coldness of the steering wheel and just breathe.
God, I’m in trouble. I’m really in it now, aren’t I?
The rest of my day drags on, painfully slow, all because I’m too keyed up about whatever Kirill has planned for us tonight.
‘The kind of trouble that involvesalittle bloodshed.’That’s what he said. That’s what he promised. And that alone has my pulse racing and my entire body humming with excitement.
