“Increased appetite.” Check.
“Hormones that turn you into an insatiable, constantly horny woman who can’t keep her hands off her criminally attractive boyfriend”?
Nowhere. Not a single mention.
But here we are.
My body feels different. Everything feels different. I’m glowing—actually glowing. My skin is flushed. My cheeks are rosy. My hair looks better than it has in months.
And I’m sore. Deliciously, thoroughly sore in ways that make me blush just thinking about it.
Anton turns slightly. Gives me a view of his profile. That sharp jaw. Those dark green eyes. The cut on his cheekbone that’s almost healed.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking at me.
“You’re naked in front of a window.”
“No one can see in. Tinted glass.”
“Still.”
He turns fully now. And oh God, that’s even worse. Because now I can seeallof him. Every inch. Every scar. Every tattoo. Every—
“Stop,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “Stop what?”
“Looking like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
His mouth curves. Dangerous. Satisfied. “I always know what I’m doing to you,malyshka.”
I throw a pillow at him. He catches it. One-handed. Still smirking.
“Come back to bed,” I say.
“We’ve been in bed for two days.”
“So? Make it three.”
“You need food.”
“I need you.”
His eyes darken.
“Please?” I stretch. Deliberately. The sheet slides down. Bare skin. Curves he’s spent the last forty-eight hours worshipping.
He’s across the room in three strides.
I barely have time to laugh before he’s on me. Exploring. Mouth hot against my neck.
“You’re insatiable,” he growls.
“You’re complaining?”
