I’ve survived enemies. Bullets. Betrayals. Wars.
But Elena…
She might be the thing that finally destroys me.
Chapter Seven
Elena
Leonid’s mouth leaves mine too abruptly, and for a second, I think I’ve done something wrong.
But when I open my eyes and see the look in his eyes, the only regret I have is that I let him kiss me. My heart thunders as the realization of what we just did fully hits me.
This man kidnapped me. He’s dangerous. I should hate him, but I let him kiss me…and I kissed him back.
What’s worse is that I enjoyed every moment of his lips on mine, even the way his mouth consumed me and made my body submit to him even when my mind knew that’s the last thing I should do.
My cheeks flush when I feel the wetness between my legs. Somehow, my core is throbbing like it wants release from my body. It was just a kiss, yet every fiber of my being is awakened and yearning for this man.
This dangerous man who I should hate.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his piercing eyes boring into mine. For the first time, his expression is something other than a blank mask. There’s genuine concern on his face.
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out, so I wrap my arms around myself and quickly tear my gaze away from him. I’m too ashamed to face him, and with the way I’ve lost absolute control over my body, I’d be even more embarrassed if I lost it and begged him to kiss me again.
Damn, Elena. Get a grip on yourself.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You…” My voice trails off. I don’t think it’d be wise to put a name to what just happened. I don’t want him to think Ienjoyed it or that it’s acceptable for him to kiss me whenever he wants. “You forced yourself on me, you pig.”
“Pig?” He closes the distance between us and presses his body against mine. The heat rolling off him seeps into my skin. “If you hated the kiss that much, why did you kiss me back?”
“I didn’t.” A weak retort, but I expect it’ll be enough to communicate the message I’m trying to get across. “Don’t ever do that again, or I’ll kill you.”
One of his brows lifts, and an arrogant yet dangerous smile plays on his lips. “I never knew being a hypocrite was your love language.”
“I never knew kissing vulnerable women was yours,” I shoot back, ignoring the voice in the back of my head that reminds me I wanted that kiss more than I’ve wanted anything in a while.
Even now, my lips ache to feel his again.
Yeah, I definitely have Stockholm syndrome.
An emotion I can’t explain flashes in his eyes for only a moment, and then it’s gone. It looked something like remorse, but I dismiss that idea, since I doubt a man like Leonid is capable of that. As much as I hate this man—or should hate him—I can already feel my heart rip into pieces at the thought that he regrets kissing me.
He ignores my blatant accusation and drags a hand through his hair. “I’ll have the chef make you something to eat.” His voice is surprisingly soft, which is unusual. Normally, he’s gruff, cold, or close to growling with rage when he talks to me. And Leonid has never been concerned about me eating. It’s the first time he’s even involved himself in feeding me since he brought me here.
I’m not sure how to feel about this new development.
Whatever armors he’s shielded himself with are cracking, and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
“I’m not hungry.” My voice is barely audible. I can still feel the aftershocks of his kiss quaking in my bones.
My stomach growls, and I bite my lip.Shit.
“Little liar,” Leonid says in a tone that’s calmer than the sea crashing against the shore on a warm evening. “The chef will get you something.”
