A jagged laugh tears out of me, wild and breathless. “Oh my God. You’re fucking insane.”
“I am.”
I look down at my hip again, at the black letters under smeared fluid and torn film, the skin around it red and angry andhis.
Forever.
The word hits so hard I nearly choke on it.
“You know what this is?” I snap. “This is assault.”
His face doesn’t change.
“No,” he says. “It’s not.”
That knocks me sideways for half a second. He sounds so goddamn certain.
Like I’m the one saying something stupid.
My grip tightens on the gun. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Yes.”
Damn him and that same brutal certainty that makes me want to pull the trigger and kiss him until he bleeds in equal measure.
“I could kill you for this.”
His gaze flicks to the gun, then back to my face.
“If that’s what you need.”
Not bravado.
Not a challenge.
Worse.
Permission.
I’m breathing too fast now, adrenaline making my hand shake around the grip. I’m hyper-aware of the fluid from the tattoo, warm and disgusting, spotting the sheets beneath me.
His eyes drop there.
“It needs to be covered again.”
I let out a laugh so sharp it almost hurts. “You donotget to stand there acting like this is normal.”
“It is to me.”
“It’s not to me, Maksim—”
“Then shoot me.”
The words cut straight through mine.
The room goes dead still.
He leans in.
