Page 26 of My Ex’s Dad

I need to remember that, no matter how good Anton makes me feel.

Anton takes the phone from Viktor and ends the call abruptly. Elena’s voice is silenced mid-sentence as she demands to know, again, why Anton is bothering to stay out of the city at a big house by himself.

As I stand, I’m glad he didn’t correct her that he’s not alone. Or maybe, to him, he really is. I’m that small a blip on his radar. I don’t count as company, or even a guest here.

You aren’t.

You’re not a guest. He didn’t invite you here.

You crashed into his car in a blizzard and that’s the only reason you’re still here.

“Excuse me.”

He’s already dialing someone else, and it’s with bitter relief that I can put some distance between us. I plan to go back to my guestroom and rest, since I didn’t exactly sleep much last night.

I don’t get more than halfway across the room before I hear him sliding his chair back. The feet scrape on the floor, prompting me to turn back.

Viktor is already leaving through another door, clearly dismissed.

The thunderous expression on Anton’s face suggests that I’m not.

“Where are you going?”

I frown, watching him stalk after me. “To my room.”

“Did I say we were done here?”

I huff at his attitude, turning to continue on my way. “I’m not yours to boss around.”

He growls. Growls. And in a few short seconds he’s caught up to me. “I’m not through with you.”

“Oh. Is that so?” I reply glibly, heading up the stairs.

“I’m not through with you,” he states again.

“I think you are.” I gesture in the direction of the dining room. “Because it sounds like you’ve got other things on your mind. Other things you need to do⁠—”

He spins me on the steps. It’s a similar move to what happened last night, when I tripped on the riser and fell into his arms. This time, he pulls me toward him. All I concentrate on is how he has a hold of me again. I’m in his arms, suspended in the air, and quickly carried up the rest of the steps.

Fuck.

God, he goes from zero to sixty in seconds.

He gazes at me with pure lust and frustration. “I need you,” he says.

My body reacts instantly, but I press a hand to his chest before he can move any closer. “Not like this. You’re angry. If you want me, slow down and ask me.”

He freezes. His hold loosens at once, and he sets me on my feet, leaving enough space for me to step away. His eyes stay locked on mine. “Do you want me, Liliana?”

I should walk away. Instead, I fist the front of his shirt and pull him toward me.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you.”

That’s all the permission he needs. His mouth crashes into mine, and I kiss him back just as hard.

The warning voice in my head doesn’t disappear, but this choice is mine. Feeling his hard body and hearing his ragged breath, I let myself want him.

I want him too badly to pretend otherwise.