Page 59 of Cashmere Ruin

“I hate you,” she hisses as I bite into her neck, half-pleasure, half-pain. As I hoist her up and press her naked back against the cold glass, tearing the rest of her clothes right off her body. “I hate you, I hate you, I—ahh!”

I plunge my fingers into her, making her scream.

It’s barely even sex: it’s too brutal to be called that.It’s a fight by a different name. It’s nothing like we’ve ever done before, and at the same time, it’s exactly what I’ve been craving all along.

Because the truth is, I could’ve never stayed away.

Not from her.

“I hate you,” I snarl in return, knuckles-deep inside her. “Ihateyou, April Flowers.”

I bite into her full breasts without a single thought for how tender they must be, how sore after nursing day in, day out. April keens, taken by surprise. “Ahh, s-stop that, they might…!”

Sweetness fills my mouth, but I don’t stop. “Mine,” I growl, swallowing everything she gives me. Everything that belongs to her, and therefore belongs to me. “Mine.”

“Matvey,” she gasps, nails sunk into my back for purchase. “Matvey?—”

I keep scissoring her open without mercy, without an ounce of restraint. I fuck into her like an animal, with three fingers all at once, because who does she think she is? This woman who stabbed me in the back, who betrayed me in the worst possible way, a way I’ve only ever tasted once at the hands of my own blood—Who the hell does she think she is?

And why can’t I stop wanting her?

“Blyat’,” I growl into her neck, cock pressing hard between her thighs. “Fuck, April.”

“Say my name,” she splutters as she writhes. “Say it, say my—ahh?—!”

I don’t give her what she wants. I don’t call her name again. Not as I fuck her senseless against the window, on display for the entire city at our feet, and not when she comes over and over under my thrusts. Even as she squeezes my cock into a vise grip for orgasm after orgasm, I refuse to call for her.

But inside, it’s all I’m calling for.

April.The woman who will be the death of me.

The woman who already is.

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APRIL

After that, it’s a landslide.

We can’t keep our hands off each other. Like, we literally can’t. The second we’re in the same room, that spark we’ve worked so hard to deny flares up hotter and brighter than ever. It’s exhausting. It’s terrifying.

And it’s sexy as all hell.

“I hate you,” I gasp into Matvey’s ear as he hoists me up on the table.

“Not as much as I hate you,” Matvey growls back, clearing the table with one fell swoop of his arm, food and plate shards scattering everywhere on the floor.

Needless to say, these activities aren’t exactly confined to the dining area. There isn’t a spot in the penthouse that we haven’t—ahem—re-christened. So far, we’ve made improper use of the couch, the carpet, the shower, all four walls, and the washing machine. Yes, while it was on.

The one thing we haven’t touched is the bed.Ourbed. The bed where we exchanged so many promises.

It’s not something we’ve talked about. Lately, if there’s one thing wearen’tdoing, it’s speaking. Hell, I haven’t even managed to bring up Dominic’s invitation again. The heights of our conversation so far have been scathing exchanges of insults, often without clothes on. But is it really so bad that we’re letting our bodies do the talking for us?

Yes!yells the last scrap of my self-awareness.You need to clear the air, not heat it up!

If only it was that simple.

One night, I haven’t tucked May into bed for five full minutes before I feel his hands on me. Rough hands, treating me like a ragdoll. “Turn around,” he snarls, so close to my ear I can feel the vibrations against my skin.

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