Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
He's in my space, his breath tickling my hair. I'm breathing heavier, and so is he. He loves fighting with me. I love getting a rise out of him. We’re a match to tinder.
When he doesn’t respond, I try to drive the memo home. “Get this through your head. I'm someone who doesn't like to be told what to do.”
“Oh, I am well aware,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.
His eyes darken as he steps even closer, crowding my space until I’m forced to back up against the sink. “You think you can push me, and there won’t be consequences?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, sending a shiver down my spine.
I lift my chin defiantly. “You don’t scare me, Viktor.”
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. “Oh, I think I do. But it’s not fear I see in your eyes right now, is it?” He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “You like this, don’t you? The challenge, the danger. It excites you. It’s like that first strike of a lighter. You can already smell the flames.”
I try to hide my reaction, but I can feel my heart racing. He’s too close, too perceptive, too in my head. “You’re wrong,” I whisper, but my voice lacks conviction.
His hand snakes around my neck, firm but not painful, forcing me to look into his intense gaze. My heart turns in my chest. “Lying to yourself won’t help you, Lydia. I know you better than you know yourself.” His thumb strokes the side of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver through me. “You want someone who can match you, who can handle your fire. Someone like me.”
I try to twist away, but his grip tightens just enough to hold me in place. “Let go of me, Viktor,” I demand, my voice shaking.
“Not until you admit the truth,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Admit that you feel something for me, something more than just hate.”
I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You’re delusional.”
His other hand slides down my arm, igniting a trail of heat. “Am I? Then why are you trembling?” His lips ghost over my neck, making it harder to focus on my anger. “Why does your heart race every time I touch you?”
“Because you’re a controlling bastard,” I snap, but the words come out breathless.
He chuckles softly, a sound that reverberates through me. “You need control. You crave it. And deep down, you know I’m the only one who can give it to you.” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. “Submit to me, Lydia. Not because I force you to, but because you want to.”
I feel my resolve weakening, the intense pull between us too strong to ignore. My breathing is ragged, my body turning against me as I lean into his touch. “Why should I trust you?” I whisper, a last attempt at resistance.
“Because I will never hurt you,” he promises, his voice fierce and sincere. “I will protect you, cherish you. But you need to let go, to trust me.”
His words break through my defenses, and I close my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “I have no choice,” I whisper. “But don’t think for a second that this means you’ve won.”
He releases his grip slightly, his thumb brushing my cheek. “This isn’t about winning, Lydia. It’s about us finding our way through this together.” He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss. He’s already made me climax, but this is the first kiss we’ve ever had. It feels like we’re sealing the unspoken agreement between us.
As the kiss deepens, I wonder if submitting to Viktor might not mean losing myself but rather finding a new kind of strength in our twisted, complicated bond.
He pulls away and stares at me, his pupils dilated.
“We have to go. We're already running late.”
“God forbid we leave your family waiting,” I say sarcastically.
“Lydia,” Viktor warns, his voice a low growl.
“This argument is unresolved, Viktor. But I will go with you.” I turn away. “Not because I'm conceding, but because you told me they're serving brownies. And I'm fucking starving for a brownie.”
I have to admit, I’m starting to like our little tiffs. It excites me when he gets in my space. It feels like that first scratch of a match, the excitement rising in my chest in the same way. He is like fire, danger, always skirting the fucking edge.
We walk to the car parked outside.
“Aren't you going to tell me what you expect of my behavior, sir?” I ask in a mocking tone. The way his eyes turn to fire when I call him sir…
“Yes, that's an excellent idea,” he says, opening the door for me. I climb into the seat, and he watches as I buckle up. Almost absentmindedly, he reaches over and smooths a crinkled part of the belt. I look away. That doesn’t mean anything. No, I’m not going to soften just because he’s doing that tender thing with me again. Nope.