Page 34 of His Darkest Obsession
He leans in, hot lips brushing at my ear and sending a spear of wet heat stabbing through me until I can hardly breathe. The heat of his body coils around me like a viper, choking out all thoughts before it sinks its fangs deep into my flesh until fire burns through my bones.
I should step away from him. Put some distance between us. But right now, more than anything else, I just want to press even closer, to seek out his warm delicious heat.
"Well,printsessa?What are you waiting for?"
Those hands suddenly grip my shoulders again, and turns me until I'm facing the mirror.
Our eyes lock in the reflection, and I can see that there's a war in both our eyes. eyes. His are dark with a primal need for control, and mine are wide with a mixture of defiance and desire.
"Everyone out," he commands. "Now."
For one heart-stopping moment, I consider refusing. My fingers clutch the dress like it's a shield that can protect me while his hands remain firm on my shoulders.
His reflection watches me with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see straight through my defiance to the fear beneath. The pads of his thumbs trace small circles against my back, and I feel my resolve cracking with each gentle sweep.
Then, he reaches forward and plucks the dress out of my hands.
"I'm waiting," he murmurs, his voice low but carrying the unmistakable weight of command.
I take a deep breath and slowly reach for the hem of my shirt, my eyes never leaving his in the mirror. With trembling fingers, I pull it up and over my head, throwing it aside.
The cool air of the room kisses my skin.
Anatoly sucks in a sharp breath as I throw the shirt away.
"Open your eyes," he whispers, his breath hot and heavy against my ear, and only then do I realize I've squeezed them shut.
When I open them, I'm surprised to find his gaze hasn't moved from my face. He looks at me with that same look he's had for the past two days: like I'm some kind of mystery for him to solve. But instead of the expected nervousness, I feel only a strange calmness from his gaze now. Like he's an anchor in the storm of emotions swirling between us.
"Pants too," he says, his voice rougher now.
I pause, my heart hammering against my ribs. Our eyes remain locked in the mirror as my fingers find the button of my jeans. I slide them down my legs and step out of them, never breaking our stare.
Standing here in just my underwear, I refuse to look away. If I do, he wins this twisted game between us. And if his eyes wander down, then I'll have won.
Just the knowledge that I can turn his attempt at dominance into desire, is victory enough.
The air between us crackles with tension. Ice blue eyes meet with my hazel green in the glass as we continue to stare at each other, each one daring the other to look away first.
A muscle in his jaw twitches. Anatoly's gaze finally dips.
For a triumphant second, I think I've won.
Until I realize he's not looking at my body.
He's staring at my thighs.
At the network of thin white scars crisscrossing my skin in neat, measured rows. The victory that had flooded my veins a second ago now evaporates and dies in my throat.
Victory floods my veins until I realize he's not looking at my body.
"Don't." My voice cracks. "Don't look at them."
Anatoly's eyes lift back to mine, and what I see there isn't pity, but something worse.
Anger.
"Who did this to you?"
