“I’m not flirting with you.”
“Yes, you are,” she retorted. “And you’re terrible at it.”
I stepped closer to the door. “Open. The. Door.”
“No.”
“Katerina.”
“No.”
“I’m not leaving,” I warned.
“Then enjoy the hallway for as long as you like.”
I closed my eyes, counted to three, failed to reach four. “If you don’t open this door,” I threatened her quietly, “I will kick it down.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I dare a lot of things.”
Her laugh was quick and breathy. “Try it. I’ll stab you with the knife I smuggled in my boot.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Clearly.”
I pressed my hand flat against the wood, feeling the thrum of my own irritation, of my own arousal spiraling out of my control. My cock was hard as a rock, straining to break free from my slacks.
“Open it,” I demanded.
“Make me.”
“Katya,” I snarled, voice rougher than I intended, “I’m warning you.”
“Warn me harder, big boy.”
That did it.
My patience snapped like a frayed wire.
I stepped back, planted my heel, and drove the weight of my other leg straight into the lock.
The sound was violent. The wood splintered, and the entire frame gave way with a crack that echoed through the hallway. The door swung inward, hanging crooked on one hinge, while slivers of shattered wood fell onto the floor like pieces of broken bone.
I stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling, heat tearing through me like I’d run a whole fucking marathon.
And then I saw her.
She was on the bed, lying back against a mound of pillows, a sheet pulled up to her collarbones, bare shoulders glowing in the dim light. Her hair spilled loose around her face, tousled, tempting, a dark halo against white linen. Her eyes went wide and she clutched the sheet a bit tighter in her fist.
It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything under the sheet.
I could tell from the flush that colored her face, the fact I’d seen her snatch her hand away from between her legs, and the hard points of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of the sheet.
She’d been touching herself.
Naughty girl…
