Page 14 of Brutal Unionn
“Are you going to keep staring at me?” Nadia purrs, sliding her fingers down the curve of her cleavage.
“I’m just admiring,” I counter, my steps measured as I make my way across the expansive living room area. A smile curves slightly on her lips.
“And what are you admiring?” She murmurs, just as my hands rest on the curve of her waist. “Is it my winning personality?”
“Of course.” My voice drops as I dip my head into the silk of her throat, letting my breath dance across the hollow beneath her jaw. “I love how cold you are, Hime. I think about it when I can’t sleep.”
Her elbow jabs me—playfully, precisely—right into the ribs. The soft roll of her glacial blue eyes only makes me grin harder. I stumble back, letting the impact take me, falling into the supple drag of black leather behind me. The couch welcomes me like sin.
She doesn’t follow. Not yet.
Instead, she glides—predatory and poised—hands drifting down the swell of her hips, her fingertips grazing the fabric of that slit dress like she’s unwrapping herself just for the hell of it. Then she turns, one brow arched, her expression carved from ice and fire all at once.
“I’m not cold,” she purrs, voice sharp as broken glass. “I’m precise.”
That word hits somewhere low and hot in me.
She steps forward.The dagger-thin black, red bottom stiletto of her heel finds its mark and presses into the center of my chest. Not hard enough to wound, but with enough pressureto see if I will buckle under the pressure of her. The cool weight of her sends a jolt straight through me, and I laugh, breathless.
I reach up slowly, eyes locked on hers, unbuckling the delicate straps of her heels with the kind of reverence one usually reserves for religious icons or high explosives.
“Then let me worship your precision,” I murmur, dragging her shoe off her foot, knuckles grazing the silken skin of her ankle. “AfterI punish you for your lack of manners.”
She sucks her teeth as she slides her foot off of my chest and replaces it with the other heel. “I have manners.”
My fingertips graze along the buckle, and I chuckle low. “You do,” I murmur, loosening the strap with practiced ease. “But you have American manners.”
“What does that mean?”
The heel slips free, and I cradle her foot gently, letting my thumb drag along the delicate arch like I have any right. My eyes trail up, devouring the silhouette of her curves—the dangerous dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the dress clinging to her like sin tailored just for her. She is elegance sharpened into a blade, venom in heels, and I should kick her out right now. Tell her to get the fuck out before this turns into something I can’t come back from.
She wants my head. That hasn’t changed. I am the reason her father still breathes, the reason a monster walks free. And I know exactly what kind of evil he is—because I’ve bled under his orders.
But here I am. Not running. Not warning her off. Just staring at her like she’s the storm meant to drownme.
Because what kind of fool runs from something this fucking beautiful?
“It means in Japan when you want to kill someone you lure them outside, and do it in private, unless you are trying to start a fight with the whole room.”
Before she can step away, I tilt my head and press a slow kiss to the top of it—right where vein meets bone, just soft enough to steal her breath.
I want to bury my teeth into that skin and leave proof. Not because I need to mark her. But because she’s the only person alive I want to belong to, despite the fact that she is the last person I can belong to. A part of me thinks when this is all over, and I have my vengeance that I will hand myself over to her. Tell her to do her fucking worst and revel in the way she will destroy me.
“I wouldn’t mind fighting the whole room.” She watches me with those glacier eyes, and speaks cooly. “Sounds fun.”
“I bet it does, but isn’t it rude to start a fight with everyone just to get one person’s attention?” I ask, brushing my thumb along her ankle.
Her eyes narrow like a blade being drawn as she pulls her foot from my grip. “And whose attention did I want?”
I chuckle, just as she turns her back to me. “Who did you fly all the way to Japan to see?”
I can hear the scoff leaving her lips just as she lowers herself onto my lap, her back to my chest, the curve of her spine sliding flush against me like we were made for this kind of quiet violence. Her ass settles perfectly, hips cradled in the V of my thighs, and my hands instinctively move to her waist, tightening around her like a vice.
“Zip me down?”
Fuck, she fits. Every inch of her against me feels like a war I’m begging to lose. I want to own her. Break her. Then let her break me. I promise I am a better man than this. I am more disciplined. I am more controlled than this. But Nadia Petrov brings out the animal in me.
“You are getting real comfortable for someone who is supposed to be receiving a punishment.” I counter.
