Page 47 of Twisted Prince

It’s insulting and demeaning that he would even offer. And the hundred-dollar bill in my bra burns against my flesh.

“Why?” Gleb challenges, his voice low and deadly. “You think I couldn’t please you?” he suggests, and my heart kicks up a notch as he prowls toward me, taking a lithe step forward every time I step back. “Because I know otherwise, Mel. You may have forgotten our night together, but I haven’t. You want me, so why not let me have you?”

Fucking Christ, just the idea of sex with Gleb has turned me into a puddle of desire. How he could even suggest I would be capable of forgetting the night he took my virginity, I don’t know. Not only was it the most pleasurable experience of my life, it left me with a daily reminder—a blessing that makes my life worth living. Gabby.

The thought of my daughter arrests my voice, stopping my retort before it leaves my tongue. But Gleb’s not finished. Stalking me like a panther, he slowly follows me deeper into his room, backing me into a corner as if by instinct.

Gone is the careful, protective Gleb who made love to me that night. This man before me is fierce, unpredictable, dangerous. And still, my body aches for his touch. Heat radiates through my core from the lingering passion of his kiss. My heart pounds a desperate beat, and I can’t tell if it’s out of fear or desire.

“I assure you, I could satisfy you far better than that smug prick at Pearl’s,” Gleb says, his voice even, his expression passive. Still, his eyes tell me I’m in uncharted territory here. And if I don’t watch my step, I just might lose my life.

Vinny? He can’t be serious. Is that what this is about? Gleb’s jealous? Frustration flickers to life, clashing with my borderline panic as my back meets the far wall of his room.

Of course, Gleb could satisfy me better than that pervert. That’s not even a question in my mind. Just thinking about Vinny’s hands on me makes my skin crawl. The only touch I’ve ever craved, the only man I’ve ever even imagined wanting, was Gleb. But it’s not that simple.

I left New York for a reason. Because any man—even Gleb—only wants to possess me. And I refuse to subject myself to a lifetime of servitude. I refuse to model that for my daughter.

So I lift my chin in defiance, splaying my hands against the wall by my hips for strength, and I do the only thing I can think of that might stop Gleb before I lose the battle raging within me. “You think you’re such a good lover?” I challenge. “Then why was it so easy for me to leave?”

Air hisses between his teeth as Gleb stops dead less than a foot in front of me. A flicker of doubt dances behind his intelligent green eyes, the hurt and confusion almost more than I can stand. But he doesn’t back away. Instead, he studies my face, reading me with such an intimate level of perception, I might as well be naked, my soul bared for the world to see.

“I don’t believe you,” he murmurs, pressing one forearm against the wall beside my head as he brings his lips within a hair’s breadth of mine.

My breath hitches, my heart sprinting so hard I think it might just burst, and I lose all ability to speak as his proximity overwhelms my senses. Body in a frenzy, my mind wars to regain control. But I’m so confused about what I want that I can’t bring myself to do anything.

I should be terrified because he’s far too close, his body trapping me against the wall without even touching me. But I crave him with an almost painful need.

Oxygen shudders past my lips, my breathing ragged as I brace to see what he’ll do next. And his penetrating green eyes hold mine captive, daring me to tell him what I want.

My eyes do it without my permission.

Dropping to his lips, they give a silent confirmation that I refuse to give.

And this time, when Gleb kisses me, I don’t have the strength to push him away.

Staggering hunger rips through my body as his lips claim mine, and his tongue strokes inside my mouth with a greed that terrifies me. But not in the way I would think. I’ve had far too many men touch me without my permission in my life. Only this time, it’s as if Gleb plucked the words straight from my mind.

Kiss me.

I ached for it badly, but I’m still so angry; I never would have said it.

And before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are running through Gleb’s soft fade, combing up his scalp to curl around the dark locks of his crew cut.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” Gleb rasps, breaking our kiss.

We pant, sharing each other’s air as I try to find the strength to say what I should say. You need to leave.

“I can’t,” I breathe, my heart shattering at the realization that I’m as hopelessly in love with him as I was three years ago.

Gleb’s body presses against mine, his lean, taut muscles pinning me against the wall with a desperation that sends heat flooding into my throbbing core. At the same time, that familiar sense of claustrophobia wraps around my throat.

“Gleb,” I whimper, my body tensing as I suddenly struggle to breathe.

“Blyat,” he snarls, shoving away from the wall a second later.

Heady relief washes through me as I suck in a greedy lungful of air. But his iron arm is still around my waist, and he pulls me with him, even as he gives me space. The room spins around me as my center of gravity vanishes, and in the next moment, the soft mattress catches my fall.

I gasp, stunned by the unexpected change, the way Gleb moved me so effortlessly, so gently, even in his passionate fury.

---