"Are you wet right now?"
Her face burns hotter. "That's none of your?—"
"You are. I can see it in the way you're shifting. The way you're pressing your thighs together." I stroke harder, feeling myself getting close. "You're soaked, aren't you? Sitting there in my shirt, pretending to draw, while you're dripping for me."
"Stop being so cocky."
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk. "Can't help it. You make me cocky."
She groans. "Did you seriously just make that pun?"
"You walked into it."
Despite everything, she almost smiles. "You're impossible."
"And you like it."
"I don't know what I like anymore." Her words fall to a whisper. "This whole thing is insane. You're insane. I'm insane for being here."
"Maybe." I reach out with my free hand and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "But you're still here. Still watching. Still wanting."
She leans into the touch without seeming to realize it. "Are you ever going to tell me about your operation? Really tell me?"
"Bratva business." My hand keeps moving, slower now. "We control ports, trafficking routes, protection rackets. Standard organized crime. Shot a man today for asking about you."
Her pencil stills. "What?"
"Dmitri's soldier. Was hunting you. I gave him a message about staying away." I study her face, looking for fear. "You'll get used to it. You're under my protection. Sometimes that means offense, not defense."
"You shot someone because of me."
"I'd do worse than that for you."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. "That should scare me."
"But it doesn't."
"No." She looks up and meets my eyes. "It doesn't. That probably says something terrible about me."
"It says you're mine." I move even closer, and now my cock is right there, inches from her face. “So, this is like the novels, right?”
She stares at it, at me, her breathing ragged.
"Better view from here, isn't it?"
Her hand comes up, almost touching, then drops. "I shouldn't want this."
"But you do."
"Yes." The admission seems to cost her. "Yes, this is like the novels. Exactly like them. Except it's real and you're dangerous and I should be running."
"But you're not running."
"No."
I stop stroking and cup her face with my free hand. My cock throbs between us, but I need her to understand this. "Step four was supposed to be a date. Dinner. A normal night. But I'm bending the rules."
"Why?"
