Without looking away from him, I slowly reached, because arguing would just prolong my being in the cold. The criminal look in his eyes could have been a schoolyard prank or a complete worldwide catastrophe.
“Show me the magazine.”
“What?”
He took it from me and pulled back the slide. “You want to know what it’s like to have control over something dangerous when your blood is hot? I can prove to you that you can do it. Check the chamber.”
I could plainly see the loaded round. He pressed the pistol into my cold hands.
This wasn’t happening… my fingers were too numb, and he didn’t mean for me to hold a loaded gun—
He was on top of me with his knee between my legs in the span of a heartbeat, rendering me powerless to slide down—powerless to wiggle free.
He leaned in, propping himself up on a forearm. “Do it.”
“Vitali—”
—is actually, and indisputably, insane.
He pulled his glove off with his teeth and spat it to the side, his hand quickly working under my coat to unbutton my jeans. My hair stuck to the frost, I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t feel the metal in my hands. All I understood was his bare touch onmy skin—and that I should scream—but knew I wouldn’t.
The high-pitched cold cut through me, and at its heel came explicit heat as he slipped his hand below the band of my panties.
“Take the gun, and hold it up to me,” he whispered into my ear, his sweltering breath amplifying the command. “This is how you treat something dangerous at your fingertips.”
19
Control
“What—” My breathhitched, and thoughts moved too fast to grasp, so I said the only things that seemed feasible at the rudimentary level of language I retained. “Wait—Vitali, it’s so cold.”
He grinned. “Not between your legs.”
What was happening—oh God but this couldn’t be happening!
‘Still snaps if the weather is right.’
I needed to let go—to drop the gun and brace myself against the icy car hood, to keep myself from sliding onto his fingers—his warm fingers firmly pressing over the pubic bone under my jeans. Both my hands were frozen gripping the pistol set against Vitali’s throat. His movements adjusted to my expression. He only caressed at first, sharing in the intimacy of bare skin, then lightly ran a finger along my slit.
I tried to speak through my hard, mangled breathing, but only short, vaporous plumes escaped. The hood groaned under our weight, and more so as I squirmed, but he had me pinned.
“Please,” I whispered.Please take the gun away from me.ButI couldn’t say it, because the moment the words formed, he moved his fingers.
He slowly drew them across my flesh, massaging, but letting up when I moved too suddenly. Taking my needing to get away as justmy need. And the lines were quickly blurring, because I flexed into him without thinking, and an unexpected jolt shot through me as I ground into the pads of his fingers.
“This isn’t your show, Kotik,” he said, moving his hand away to rest against the crease of my thigh underneath the denim. “Only what I give. This is a lesson, not recreation.”
The tip of the barrel shifted in time with the movement of his Adam’s apple. I fixated on it as if looking away might set it off.
“Nod, so I know you understand the rules.”
I did, rapidly, and that was all I could do because at that instant he pressed a thumb against my clit, sending a hot quake up my spine. My rigid core cramped. He looked pleased.
The stupid thought ran through my head that it took him a whole four months to kiss me and here we were. I almost started cackling, but gasped instead as he leaned his weight against me, grinding his fingers.
“Relax,” he coached, gazing down at me. The low murmur of his voice boasted his masterful restraint, and hewasrestraining. “You don’t want any sudden movements.”
Something warm inside me broke loose, instantly making me wetter, so much that his face changed as his touch slicked. More pressure—his fingers started in a swirling pattern, gently flicking against my clit whenever he thought I relaxed.
