Page 61 of Sixth Sin

“You were busy?” I snap, forcing an attitude I’m honestly too exhausted to put this much effort into. But I let him touch me. I lowered a lifetime of walls for a moment of weakness he just threw in my face. I’ll be damned if he gets to just manhandle me like nothing happened.

“Can we not do this—”

“I’ve had to deal with strange men who want to have weird conversations, and there’s all this fucking static in my head that won’t go away. But that’s nothing compared to the scratching. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, Dominic.” Closing my eyes, I palm my forehead as my mind starts to blot with that damn black chalk again. “I can’t think with all these zigzags and rules, and—”

“I think you should take Rosten’s offer.”

Like an eraser swipe across my mind, the chalk disappears. Opening my eyes, I gape at him. “Are you insane? Greg Rosten. The same Greg Rosten you blasted for sexual assault.”

“I issued a retraction.”

“We both know you were forced into that.”

Dominic sighs, and even in the shadows, I see his shoulders sag. “The Romanovs have a history with Silverline, rook. It would look suspicious to go with anyone else.”

I want to believe him, and that’s the problem. I never know if he’s working an angle to ensure our success or his own. But surviving on my own taught me always to question people’s motives. And this feels too rushed. Too planned. Too wrapped up in a shiny gold box tied with invisible strings.

“What’s in it for you?”

Dominic steps closer and as the distance between us disappears, so do the shadows obscuring his face. “Nothing. Maybe I just missed you.”

Oh, no you don’t. Not today, Satan.

“What happened to, ‘We both got what we wanted. I got my money, and you got the career you kept bitching I stole from you. Everyone wins’?”

He groans. “Look, I’m used to working alone, Alexandra. This whole ‘looking out for someone else’ thing is new for me, so how about cutting me some slack?”

Squaring my jaw, I stare him dead in the eye. “And I’m supposed to forgive you just like that?”

He fists his hands by his side as if it’s taking every ounce of control to rein in his temper. “Look, let’s just get back to the party. You need to talk to Rosten.”

I can’t believe him. After that elaborate tap dance he pulled, he’s ready to send me right back into the arms of a predator.

Rage boils hot and furious inside me, and I snap. “Fuck you, fuck this party, and fuck Greg Rosten.” Resisting the urge to punch him, I turn to stomp back down the hall when I’m spun back around and slammed against the wall.

The impact knocks the breath out of me. I open my mouth to gasp for air, but Dominic doesn’t give me a chance. His mouth comes crashing onto mine with such force I’m thrown into the wall a second time as he devours me. Consumes me. Incinerates me with every demanding delve past my lips. I moan as his nails dig into my hips, his cock hardening with every press against my stomach.

I’m powerless against him when he’s like this, and he knows just how to play my body to get what he…

Oh God.

Images flash in my head over the past couple of weeks. Intimate memories of us together. Outside the café when he kissed me after I refused his offer. On his patio when I let him touch me after evading my questions about his past. And now, kissing me like this after I refused to play nice with Greg Rosten.

I’m such an idiot.

“No!” Rearing back, I slam both palms against his chest and shove him away. “I’m not your fuck toy, McCallum!” I shout, not giving a damn who hears me. “You don’t get to be an asshole and then shut me up with a few kisses.”

A shiver rolls down my spine as he stalks toward me, his eyes dark and lethal. Grabbing my wrists, he swings them above my head, and pins me against the wall. “I don’t want to shut you up with a few kisses, Alexandra Romanov,” he growls, and hearing him say her name while grinding his hard cock against me makes it seem even more forbidden. “Do you want me to tell you what I want to do?”

Say no.

“Yes,” I shudder on a breathy exhale.

He releases my hands, but with one look from him, I don’t dare move them. Then with no hesitation or slow seduction, his fingers bunch around the opening at my thigh, widening the slit so fast it rips. A sadistic smile teases his lips. “This dress gives me perfect access without tearing the whole thing off. And, make no mistake, Miss Romanov, I wouldn’t care if we were alone, or the whole goddamn party watched, I’d shred every fucking inch and show everyone your pretty little pussy.” My breath comes rough and ragged as he reaches between my legs, lazily dragging a finger across the drenched scrap of lace. “Because then they’d know how wet it gets for me.”

“Oh God.”

“What would you do, Miss Romanov? Would you push me away”—his finger stalls, then barely dips under the edge—“or would you beg me to show them how hard I can make you come?”

---