Page 84 of Scarlet Thorns
Something fractures in his expression. “You should be running.”
“I… don’t want to.”
The words hang between us for one suspended moment.
Then his control snaps.
He crushes his mouth to mine with a hunger that steals my breath. This isn’t gentle or romantic— it’s claiming, possessive, raw. His teeth nip at my bottom lip until I open for him, and his tongue sweeps inside to taste me thoroughly.
I melt against him, every rational thought dissolving under the assault of his kiss. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as he devours my mouth like he’s been starving for this moment.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“There’s a price to be paid for going where you’re not permitted,” he growls against my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I say, though somehow, I don’t feel sorry at all.
His hands span my waist, thumbs stroking over my ribs through the thin fabric of my top. “I could hurt you.”
“Please…” I say hoarsely, not sure if I’m asking him not to, or if that’s exactly what I want.
His eyes darken to storm clouds. Without warning, he spins me around and presses me face-first against the doorframe. My palms flatten against the wood as his body pins me from behind.
“Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against my ear. “To be fucked by a bad man?”
“I… I… Oh God!” The words come out as a moan when his hips press against my ass, letting me feel exactly how much he wants this too. His cock is so thick and hard that my eyes fly wide.
His hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back until my neck is exposed. “I won’t be gentle.”
“Oh!” I gasp. I find myself grinding back against him.
The growl that rumbles through his chest is purely animal. His hands find the hem of my top, yanking it over my head in one swift motion. Cool air hits my heated skin, making me gasp.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his palms skimming over my ribs, my stomach, finally cupping my breasts through my bra.
When his thumbs brush over my nipples through the lace, I cry out at the sensation. Everything feels amplified, charged. Like my body has been waiting for his touch specifically.
“Osip, please—”
“Please what?” His fingers work the clasp of my bra, letting it fall away. “Tell me what you want.”
“I… I don’t know,” I choke out, even though that’s a lie. Him. I want him.
He spins me around again, his eyes devouring the sight of me half-naked and desperate for him. Something wild and untamed flickers in his expression.
Without warning, his hands grip my waist and lift.
The ground disappears beneath my feet. My startled shriek echoes through the room as he hoists me up like I weigh nothing— and maybe to him, I do. All that controlled power I’ve been fantasizing about is suddenly focused on me, no longer restrained by propriety or distance.
“Osip!” His name tears from my throat, half protest, half plea.
But he’s already moving, carrying me away from his secret room with purposeful strides. My hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, feeling the solid muscle beneath his expensive shirt. The way he holds me— effortlessly, possessively— makes my pussy clench with anticipation.
He dumps me onto his bed without ceremony.
I bounce once against the Egyptian cotton, my hair cascading around me in honey-blonde waves. The mattress is enormous, designed for a king, and I feel suddenly smallsprawled across the twisted sheets that still smell like him. Dark, masculine, intoxicating.
My pulse pounds as I watch him above me— sharp angles and dangerous intent. His gray eyes burn with something that makes my thighs tremble. This isn’t the controlled businessman anymore. This is something wilder, hungrier.
