Page 25 of Eros
AssoonasIentered Eros’s room, I slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. Hopefully, that bastard could hear it. I didn’t know why the hell he believed he could talk to me that way. I wasn’t his girlfriend, wife or his fucking old lady. I wanted answers about whoever was trying to kill me. I deserved to know who was coming after me.
“Who is she?” I asked the empty room. “And why the hell is he pissed at me for asking? I deserve to know.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I paced the room, fuming. The worn floorboards groaned under my weight. I was starting to hate being couped up in this room. There were no windows. Only a bed, nightstand, and a dresser. I didn’t have access to a phone, even though if I did there wouldn’t be anyone to call since my father was trying to kill me, and I was pretty sure my brother would say I was overreacting because he didn’t care about shit if it didn’t revolve around him and the ocean. So, I was alone,pissed, bored, and maybe a little horny, even though I hated to admit that part to myself.
He had my mind completely messed up, and I didn’t know how it had even gotten to this point. Yes, he saved my life, and yes, he was a master in the sex department, but that shouldn’t even matter. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been with men before, but Eros was dangerous. Not only as a person but to my heart.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I stopped pacing, the rush of adrenaline immediately draining from body, and plopped down heavily at the end of the bed, the mattress sighing beneath my weight.
“Ugh!” I screamed, running my hand down my tired face. “I’m so sick of this shit. I can’t even think straight because of him. I’m getting the hell out of here. I’ll take my fucking chances.”
I got off the bed and walked toward the door just as it opened. I glared at Eros as he sauntered in like the king he believed himself to be. The click of the door closing, then the lock, echoed in the sudden silence.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” he asked with a fucking smirk on his face.
Goddamn it! I hate the sound of his voice and the way it made me feel. It smoothly moved through my system like the blood in my veins and filled my lungs with air like when I breathed. It was exhilarating and fucking irritating all at the same time.
The same with the way he looked at me. It made me forget about my predicament and why the hell I was mad at him, which should be my priority. Not the way he made me feel and especially not the way he fucked me like I was right now.
“Don’t call me that!” I shouted, pushing down my desire and clinging onto the anger inside of me. “I’m not your fucking sweetheart.”
He took slow steps toward me, each footfall deliberate until he was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “But I like calling you sweetheart.”
That smirk morphed into a full-blown sexy smile, which pissed me off and made me want to climb him like a damn tree at the same time.
“I’m so sick of being here.” I tried walking around him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “And I’m so sick of you!”
His calloused hand, strong and surprisingly gentle, closed around my neck. A frantic rhythm pounded in my chest, each beat hammering against my ribs. It was so strong he probably could feel it against his fingertips.
Why the hell does he have to be the one to make me feel like this?
“Are you sure about that?”
“Eros, just let me go,” I protested.
“No, and you call me Niko, not Eros.” He leaned in and his cologne mixed with my perfume as his nose brushed the column of my neck, inhaling as he went. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he moaned, tightening his grip on my neck.
I tried to clench my thighs together, but he used his knee to push them back open. “I’ll call you what the hell I want to call you.”
His dark chuckle vibrated through my entire body, a tremor I felt in my bones. “You like pushing my buttons, don’t you, sweetheart?” he said, not removing his hand from around my neck but walking me backwards.
“And you like being an asshole, don’t you?”
He chuckled again. “That smart ass mouth of yours is going to be filled with my dick if you keep talking.” The back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. “But I think that’s what you want.”
Though the idea thrilled me, I couldn’t let him see my excitement.
“I don’t want shit from you, Eros. All I want is to go home. You can rot in hell.”
His fingers tightened around my neck with an oddly comforting pressure. I never believed I would like someone to squeeze my neck, but it was highly intimate and erotic.
“This is your home… for now.” He pushed me down onto the bed. “And my fucking name is Niko. But since you’re having such a hard time saying it, how about I make you scream it?”
I pushed myself up on my elbows, watching as he casually removed his t-shirt, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tossed it over his shoulder without taking his eyes off me.
His body was a canvas of sculpted muscles covered in beautiful, intricate tattoos, a sight both powerful and erotic. The most notable one being Ambrose’s name over his heart, which was a very real reminder of the two sides of Niko. Both, I was falling for.
