Chapter 14 - The Storm Inside|
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It was a collision—a fierce, desperate explosion of restraint breaking after four days of silent madness.
His lips were hot, demanding, and possessed a ruthless skill that made my knees instantly buckle. He caught me around the waist with his heavy arm, pulling my body flat against his broad frame, lifting me off the floorboards as if I weighed nothing at all.
I let out a soft gasp into his mouth, my hands clenching into the dark fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
Every instinct of survival I had ever possessed screamed at me that this was madness. He was the King of Brooklyn. He was a man who ordered executions without blinking.
And yet, his touch felt like the only real thing I had ever experienced in my hollow, exhausted life.
Dimitri carried me two steps backward, pressing me against the cold glass window overlooking the dark ocean. His hands traced the curve of my waist, my spine, sliding under the thin silk of my robe, his thumbs caressing my warm skin.
"Elena..." he rasped against my throat, his breath hot against my collarbone. "Tell me to stop."
I tilted my head back against the glass, gasping for air, my fingers buried in his dark hair.
"Don't stop," I whispered into the dark room. "Don't you dare stop."
He let out a low, growling sound against my neck, his lips trailing down my collarbone as he pulled the silk robe off my shoulders, exposing me to the firelight and the storm outside.
May you like
That night, on the third floor of his black stone fortress, I didn't think about landlords, diners, or snipers.
I only knew the touch of Dimitri Vulov.
