Page 58 of Never Distract a Biker

I pace back and forth in Viktor’s room, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet with every step. The gilded edges of the ornate furniture seem to mock my confinement, each piece a testament to Viktor's opulence and power. This room—this palace of a mansion—is undeniably beautiful, but right now? It feels like a gilded cage. My fingers trail along the edge of a marble dresser, the cold surface doing nothing to soothe the restless energy bubbling under my skin.

I glance out at the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, my reflection distorted against the backdrop of sprawling, manicured grounds. The world out there looks inviting and free. The weight of the mansion presses down on me, a constant reminder of the circumstances that brought me here. My gaze falls to my belly, the smallest hint of a bump visible now. It'sstrange, these lives growing inside me, anchoring me to a reality I never asked for.

I let out a heavy sigh. How long has it been since I felt the sun on my face, the hum of a city street under my feet? Viktor’s world is one of shadows and control, and while he seems to move through it effortlessly, I feel like I’m drowning in it. I need air. I need freedom.

The decision is made before I even realize it. If anyone can grant me some reprieve from this endless monotony, it’s Viktor. I leave his room, my steps purposeful as I navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion. The sheer size of this place still baffles me, every turn revealing another wing, another opulent display of wealth.

The cool air of the hallways brushes against my skin, but it does little to calm my racing thoughts. I pass staff members who avert their eyes respectfully, their silent presence a constant reminder of Viktor’s influence. Each step brings me closer to his office, my mind rehearsing what I’ll say. Will he even listen? Or will he dismiss me as he often does, with that maddening smirk that makes me want to slap him—and kiss him—all at once?

The heavy oak door to Viktor’s office is slightly ajar, and I push it open without knocking. He’s there seated behind his massive desk, a stack of papers before him. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing the intricate tattoos that snake up his forearms. I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the sight.

He’s completely engrossed, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the desk lamp. Something is captivating about the way he moves, each flick of his pen deliberate, controlled. My eyes linger on his hard and handsome body, his tattoos, the swirling designs that speak of a life steeped in danger and mystery. They suit him—they’re intimidating yet mesmerizing.

"You can keep staring, Scarlett," Viktor says, his deep, gravelly voice breaking the silence. He doesn’t even look up, yet his words send a shiver down my spine. "I hope you like what you see."

I snap out of my trance, my cheeks flushing as I realize I’ve been caught. "I wasn’t—" I begin, but his head tilts slightly, a smirk playing at his lips. The confidence he exudes is infuriating.

"Of course you weren’t," he drawls, finally looking up. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a flutter in my chest that I refuse to acknowledge. "What can I do for you, Scarlett?"

"I’m bored," I say, folding my arms across my chest. "I can’t stay cooped up in this mansion forever. I need to get out."

His smirk fades, replaced by a calculating look. "And where exactly would you like to go?"

"Anywhere," I reply, my voice edged with frustration. "A walk, a drive, a coffee shop. Just somewhere that isn’t surrounded by your four walls."

His gaze narrows, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed by how carefully he considers every move.

Viktor rises from his chair, the air in the room shifting as he does. His movements are slow and deliberate, like those of a predator sizing up his prey. He closes the distance between us with a few measured steps, his presence overwhelming.

"You’re not just bored," he says, his voice low. "You’re restless." His eyes search mine, and I feel exposed, like he can see straight through me.

"Maybe I am," I snap back, trying to mask my unease. "Is that such a crime?"

His smirk returns, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Not at all," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. "But let’s not pretend you came here just to ask for a field trip."

I bristle at his words, but I can’t deny the truth in them. Something about Viktor draws me in, even when I want to push him away.

He steps closer, and I instinctively back up until I feel the edge of his desk pressing into my butt cheeks. My breath catches as he leans in, his scent—woodsy and masculine—filling the space between us.

"You’re playing with fire, Scarlett," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. My pulse races, and for a moment, I forget why I came here.

Before I can form a coherent thought, Viktor’s lips brush against mine—soft at first, teasing, testing. The world narrows to this single point of contact, and my body betrays me, leaning into him as if he’s gravity itself. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, the callouses on his fingers rough against my skin.

It’s gentle, almost tender until it’s not. The kiss deepens, his lips demanding and unrelenting, pulling me into a storm I’m powerless to resist. His other hand finds my waist, holding me in place as if daring me to pull away. But I don’t. I can’t. The frustration I walked in with melts away, replaced by something I don’t fully understand but can’t deny.

Viktor’s lips leave mine, trailing a path down my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear. My resolve crumbles further with every touch, every kiss. His hands slide to my hips, gripping them firmly as if to ground me.

"Viktor ..." I manage to whisper, though I’m not sure if it’s a plea to stop or to keep going.

His name on my lips seems to ignite something in him. He pulls back slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. There’s a hunger in his eyes that matches mine.

His lips find mine again, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move with purpose, lifting me onto the edge of his deskas if I weigh nothing. The cool wood against my thighs is a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

Every touch, every movement is deliberate, as if he’s memorizing me, mapping out every reaction. My hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. The intensity is overwhelming, and yet, I crave it.

The world outside this room ceases to exist. It’s just us—two people lost in a moment that feels like it’s been building forever. This cold mafia boss knows how to set my body and soul on fire.

His lips were soft yet demanding, taking control as he plunged into my mouth, his tongue seeking mine. I moaned, surrendering to the passion building between us. His kiss was like a storm, wild and intense, leaving me breathless and wanting more. My hands found their way into his hair, threading through the silky strands, pulling him closer as if I could merge our bodies into one.

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