Page 101 of Filthy Promises

His jaw tightens. “What do you want from me, Rowan?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem.” I push his hand away because I feel insane when he touches me. “I don’t know what I want, or what this is, or where we go from here.”

“I can tell you where we go from here,” he says, closing the distance between us until my back hits the elevator wall. “We continue. Behind closed doors. No one needs to know.”

“‘Continue,’” I repeat, the word hoarse and hollow and ugly in my mouth. “Until when? Until you marry some Bratva princess? Or just until I’ve served my purpose and you get bored of me?”

“Until I say otherwise.”

As with so many other times since our worlds collided, the right thing to do would be slap the arrogance right off his face.

But as with all those other times, I don’t. I can’t.

Because, for better or for worse, it’s the answer I wanted.Things aren’t over yet. We haven’t reached the part where it hurts too badly to go on.

You’ll get at least one more taste of paradise before it all goes up in smoke.

“And what if I say no?” I challenge, lifting my chin.

His mouth curves into that devastating half-smile. “Then you say no. I won’t force you, Rowan. I’m not that kind of monster.”

“But you think I won’t say no.”

“Iknowyou won’t.” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Because I felt how wet you got when I walked into this elevator.I can see how hard you’re breathing right now. I know what you look like when you’re desperate for me.”

My body betrays me, responding to his words with a rush of heat between my thighs.

“This is a mistake,” I croak.

“Maybe.” His fingers trace the line of my jaw. “But it’s a mistake we both want to make again.”

He’s right. That’s the worst part. Despite everything—the danger, the complications, the inevitable heartbreak waiting at the end of this road like a fucked-up pot of gold at the landing point of the rainbow—I want him.

I’ve always, always wanted him.

“Your driver is waiting,” I say. It’s a last feeble attempt at resistance. He knows as well as I do that it’s pathetic.

But, to my surprise, he lets me have it.

He steps back, releasing me from the cage of his body. He reaches over and presses the button to restart the elevator.

“Think about it,” he says as the elevator resumes its descent. “Take all the time you need.”

When the doors open in the lobby, he gestures for me to exit first.

“Goodnight, Ms. St. Clair,” he says, his voice returning to its professional register.

“Goodnight, Mr. Akopov.”

As I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. Knowing it’s only a matter of time before I give in again.

I step out into the cool evening air, drawing a deep breath to steady myself. I should be stronger than this. Smarter.Just walk away, goddammit! You know this can’t end well!

But even now, with humiliation burning in my chest, all I can think about is the weight of his body on mine.

He looked at me and touched me and spoke to me like I mattered. For five years, I dreamed about how he might look in a moment like that. When it came, it was more than I ever could have dreamed.

Nothing hurts as good as finally getting the things we’ve longed for.

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