Standing up, I throw my hands in the air and shout, “Why don’t you stop blamingmefor your mistakes!”
Artur spins to face me, his expression one of confusion and disbelief.
“My mistakes? You have such cheek even trying to point this at me!”
I storm toward him, anger boiling up anew.
Glaring up at him, I square my shoulders and practically lean against him to force him to look at me.
“Dammit, Artur!” I blurt out.
He grabs my shoulders and grips me tightly.
For a second, my brain flips. His cologne washes over me, and my lips part.
“Maria,” he growls dangerously. My name falls from his lips like a warning, but it sounds like an invitation.
His eyes are dark, but the anger is mixed with something else now.
Something that looks like a need.
From his chest, a low rumbling sound vibrates against me.
Then, in an instant, his lips are on mine.
Confusion floods every cell in my body. But at the same time, I am ignited with a fire so intense I can barely breathe.
His mouth is locked over mine. I reach up and knot my fingers in his shirt.
A soft moan escapes my lips, and I feel my cheeks heating bright red.
He’s too busy pulling me closer to notice.
What am I doing?
What is going on?
Suddenly, my mind is flooded with memories of him.
Every time he flirted with me, every fun little comment or sleight of hand. Every compliment and teasing joke. I used to adore him. I used to have so much fun with him.
Until he betrayed your brother!
But it’s too late to consider betrayal now.
My body is a raging fire of desire, and I can’t stop.
When Artur groans and lifts me into his arms, I melt against him.
He pushes me onto the bed with urgency. He’s on top of me, pushing my dress up over my thighs as we clamber, stumbling, desperate, needy. He tugs his pants open, and his massive cock jumps free.
I gasp when he shoves my legs open and rubs it against me.
Self-consciously, I try to pull my dress down over my stomach to hide my curves, and this annoys him. He grabs my dress and rips it, tearing it from my body and exposing me to his eyes, which roam freely over me with admiration.
This should be slow. Tender. Romantic. And I don’t fucking care. All I want is to feel him inside me. The way he looks at me is driving me wild.
Artur pushes himself up onto his arm, hovering above me with his cock in his hand.
