“Why did you stop? I was starting to get into the kinky stuff.” He removes his helmet and shakes out his damp hair.
I stop cold.
My eyes lock on him in ways that scare the hell out of me.
Despite my attempts to deny it, Yulian looks like the living embodiment of attractiveness and ruin even with his bloody lips and bruised cheek. If anything, they add to his unearthly, primitive beauty. Bathed in moonlight that slips in and out of the clouds, he doesn’t look human. He looks supernatural. A monster born to haunt the night.
An anomaly.
Strands cling to his forehead until he shoves them back with one hand, his bicep flexing, veins stark even in the dimstreetlight. I catch the veins running thick across his arm, down his abs, and disappearing under the waistband of his shorts?—
“I’m up here, Mishka.”
My eyes snap to his face as he hangs the helmet on the handlebar, the blue and brown colors of his irises glinting like an animal on the hunt.
His bandaged hand slides down, across the muscles of his chest, pausing on the tattoo, then continuing to his abs. He fingers the waistband of his shorts. “But I can also be down here if you prefer.”
“Very on brand,” I say in a seemingly bored voice, even as I struggle to keep my attention on his face. “You always think with your dick?”
“If you’re around, hell yeah.”
My lips part, but I purse them. He probably says that to a hundred others on a daily basis.
Like that blond guy from earlier.
Yulian seems to be the type who flirts for sport.
He only opens his mouth to flirt or yap nonstop, it seems.
“Besides.” He leans over so that his face is close to mine. “You came here for me, so I can’t let you leave without blessing you with my attention.”
I look down my nose at him, my hand flexing at my side, because I refuse to step back. That would mean he has the upper hand, and that willneverhappen.
Yulian is only ever meant to be fucking beneath me.
“You’re delusional,” I speak in the same bored tone.
“And you’re in denial, Mishka.” He sniffs me like a feral dog, inhaling audibly. “Admit it, you couldn’t stop thinking about me after I gave you a handjob. How wouldyou rate it out of ten? Actually, no need for a rating, just tell me who does it better, me or Danika?”
“Of course it’s Danika,” I say without emotion, lying through my teeth, mostly because I can feel his breath on my skin. His lips are so close, my mouth’s watering, my heart hammers, and obscene images rush into my head.
Images I’ve tried and failed to eradicate from my consciousness.
His hand clamps the back of my neck, dragging me forward until our foreheads crash, his voice dropping low. “If you only said that to piss me off, it’s working.”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want honest answers to.” I plant a hand on his chest and try to shove him away, but he pulls me even closer, his breath lacing with mine.
I’m breathing him with every inhale, and it’s making me lightheaded.
A drug.
He’s a goddamndrugI can’t wait to inject into my starving veins.
“You’re anything but honest, Mishka. We both know I can make you experience things you would never dream of. Not with Danika, not with anyone else. I’m your best option.”
“More like the worst.”
“But you haven’t seen what’s up my sleeve. I’ll take you to the moon and back.”
