Page 43 of Konstantin
He lifts my hand, brushing a kiss against my knuckles. My lashes flutter from the sensation, from the warmth of his breath.
“And I don’t like liars.”
“Maybe you’re the one lying to yourself.” My gaze holds his, daring him.
“I am,” he says, low and raw. “But not about this.”
His words swim with a husky baritone, dripping with meaning that I don’t understand. What is he lying about?
“You want me,” he goes on. “And I want you. That’s a fact. Denying it doesn’t make it any less true.”
A part of me wants to run. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating in the most maddening way.
He doesn’t just take up space. He owns it. And somehow, without touching me, he already owns this moment too.
“How long’s it been?” His words are etched in unsatiable hunger.
“What?”
His mouth curves. “Since you were properly fucked.”
Heat pulses straight to my core. My God, this isn’t fair.
“That’s none of your business.” It comes out breathless instead of indignant, and I hate that.
“Ah…” His eyes narrow. “So never.”
He’s not wrong.
“Shame.” He presses another kiss against my hand—soft, unhurried—and I feel it everywhere. “I could have you crying my name by dessert, if only you’d stop pretending you don’t want it.”
I stare at him over the rim of my glass, refusing to let him see how deep he’s already gotten under my skin.
“Think about it,” he adds, voice dipping to a gruff whisper.
My fingers tighten around the glass.
“Unless you’re afraid you’ll just keep coming back for more.”
I meet his stare and force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Marinov. You’re not that unforgettable.”
He laughs, completely unbothered. Like he already knows I’m lying.
The worst part is, deep down, I know if I let him have those parts of me I’ve never let anyone else see, I’ll never want to walk away.
And there’s no coming back from that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMILIA
The next morning,the car glides through the city streets while I’m tucked into the backseat beside Konstantin, every inch of his body a magnet to mine even as I try to pretend he’s invisible.
Thank God Caleb wasn’t out front when he came to pick me up. One run-in was more than enough. Hopefully after seeing the possessive beast that showed up at my door, he got the message loud and clear.
Konstantin sits close enough that his scent—wood, spice, leather—wraps around me, making it impossible to ignore him. I can feel his stare, heavy and greedy, burning into my skin.
But I refuse to look. The less attention I give him, the better. He likes the chase. Helivesfor it. And if he thinks I’m just another easy game, he’ll be very disappointed.
