And when I step closer, she actually flinches.
That, more than anything, pisses me off the most. Because fear from my enemies is one thing—I don’t mind being feared by those under me. It’s a useful currency. But I never wanted it fromher.I wanted her defiant. Proud. The clever little mouse who snarled at me even when she was trapped, fighting me tooth and fucking nail.
What happened to the girl pumping her fingers between her thighs at the fantasy of me possessing her? Of wanting me to treat her as harshly as I treated my soldiers? What happened tothatgirl?
“Please,” she breathes. “Let me go.”
The words are soft. Pleading. So unlike her that it catches me off-guard for the barest flicker of a second. I let the silence stretch, then I take another step forward until I’m close enough to practically feel the tremor in her limbs roll through the air like static.
“Bad night last night?” I murmur.
Her head snaps up, eyes finally meeting mine. “What?”
“Did you,” I say, leaning in closer. Her breath stutters out of her, close enough that it fans across my face. “Have a bad time last night? Did I hurt you?”
She hesitates. A flash of uncertainty crosses her face, like she can’t quite figure out whether this is a trap or not. It isn’t. I’m genuinely curious. “N–No. Not at all.”
I hum low in my throat, cocking my head slightly. “Then why so eager to leave,lyubimiy? Didn’t we have fun together?”
The second the words leave my mouth, her cheeks flood with color. The memory hits her. I see it all reflected in the flicker of her pupils—my hand wrapped around her neck, her body twisting under mine as I pounded into her, the way she came apart with my name on her lips.
“I—” she tries, then stops.
“I don’t believe you ran because of fear. At least not the kind you think. You’re not afraid of me. You’re afraid of what I make you feel.”
Her mouth parts like she might deny it, but the words don’t come. I see them die on her tongue the moment she tries to speak.
I smile, unable to help myself. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
She doesn’t.
Her silence is the sweetest confession she’s ever given me.
“You came,Milaya,” I whisper, crowding into her space. I don’t stop until her back hits the shelf, books rattling from the force. She gasps, eyes widening as I cage her in with my body. “With my name on your tongue. With my cock buried so deep inside you, you didn’t know where you ended and I began.”
She trembles against me, but this time for an entirely different reason than before.
“You asked me to make you mine,and I did,” I murmur against her ear.
Ivy draws in a shaky breath, her eyes darting away from mine, even when I collide our hips together. A small moan comes tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it, her head tipping back to rest against the shelf behind her.
My little flight risk is turned on. How adorable.
“And then you tried to run,” I growl, pressing my hips forward until the rigid line of me collides with her softness. “Not because I threatened you or because I hurt you. But because you can’t reconcile how much you want me with how much you wish you didn’t.”
“Maksim…” she mumbles.
“Don’t run from me again. It’s a waste of both our time. There is nowhere in this city you can go that I don’t own. You will never succeed in hiding from me,” I say, dragging my mouth just along the line of her jaw.
She jerks, stifling another moan when my thigh moves to part hers. I feel when her thighs clench together, a desperate, instinctive squeeze against the pressure of mine between them. I feel the sharp hitch of her breath when I roll my hips the slightest bit harder, dragging the full length of my arousal against her.
I lean down, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “See? That’s not fear you feel,Milaya.That’s hunger.”
I cage her with one hand braced against the shelf above her head, the other sliding down her side. She stiffens at my touch, but when my palm rests on her hip, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she shivers.
Her eyes flick up to meet mine again, wide. I catch it then—the shame in them tangled with raw need.
It’s intoxicating.
