Page 29 of Perfect Stalker

We stare at each other for a second as the temperature rises. I’m suddenly flushed and fitful, and he strides forward. I step back, trying to keep pace with his advance until he backs me against the door. His proximity ignites something deep within me, a magnetic pull I can’t resist. In a moment of reckless abandon, I close the distance between us, pulling Ivan in for a passionate kiss.

Our lips crash together, and the world falls away. The kiss is electric, sending sparks racing through my body. Ivan’s arms encircle my waist, pulling me flush against him. I tangle my fingers in his hair, reveling in its silky texture.

The kiss deepens, growing more urgent. He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, and I part them willingly. He tastes of expensive whiskey and forbidden desire. A soft moan escapes me, swallowed by his hungry mouth.

My back presses against the cool wood of the door, a stark contrast to the heat of Ivan’s body. He cups my hips before gliding his hands up and down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into him, craving more contact.

Time seems to stand still. There’s only this moment, this kiss, and this man. The danger, the complications, and the consequences all fade away in the face of our shared passion.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless and startled. I stare up at him with my lips tingling and my heart thumping a rapid rhythm. His eyes are dark with desire, and his breathing is ragged. For a moment, neither of us moves.

The realization of what I’ve done hits me. I’ve crossed a line. Right now, with Ivan’s body still pressed against mine, and the taste of him on my lips, I can’t bring myself to care.

He cups my cheek in one large hand, using his thumb to trace my kiss-swollen lower lip. “Jenny,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

I shiver at the sound of my name on his lips. “Ivan, I?—”

He cuts me off with another kiss, this one softer but no less passionate. When he pulls back, he stares down at me with brooding intensity. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

The admission sends a thrill through me. “How long?” I ask.

“Since that night when I rescued you. The bruise on your cheek made me want to murder Stephen, but your trembling lips made me want to taste them,” he says, his gaze intense. “You’ve haunted me, Jenny. Every day, every night…every second since.”

His words make my head spin. I struggle to form a coherent thought. “This is crazy,” I say, even as I sway closer to his touch. “We can’t?—”

“We can,” he interrupts while cupping the back of my neck, holding me in place. “We are. Unless you tell me to stop.”

I should. There are a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea. Ivan is dangerous, complicated. Getting involved with him could destroy me—but I can’t bring myself to say the words. Instead, I surge forward, capturing his lips in another searing kiss. He responds immediately, pressing me harder against the door. Where he touches me leaves trails of fire in their wake.

I lose myself in the sensation, in the taste and feel of him. Nothing else matters. Not the danger, not the complications, nor the uncertain future. There’s only Ivan and this burning desire between us.

When we finally break apart again, we’re both panting. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyelids closed. “We should stop,” he says, but he makes no move to pull away.

“We should,” I agree, even as I continue to explore the planes of his chest with my palms.

He opens his eyes to stare into mine. “I want you, Jenny,” he says huskily. “More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

My core clenches at his words. “I want you too,” I admit with enough heat that it surprises even me.

He nods, looking arrogant and pleased. “Da, but this isn’t the time or place.” He steps back, looking as cool and composed as ever, while my world feels discombobulated.

On shaky legs, I stumble out of Ivan’s office, my cheeks burning and my heart racing. The kiss replays in my mind, a constant loop of passion and confusion. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to turn around and go back for more.

“Focus, Jenny,” I mutter to myself as I make my way to my desk. “You have work to do.”

Concentration proves impossible. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Desire wars with common sense, and fear tangles with an exhilarating thrill. It’s not safe or rational to want him this much, but I can’t seem to care.

A knock on my office door startles me out of my reverie. “Come in,” I say, grateful for the distraction.

Marcus enters, his expression unreadable. “Ms. Graham, Mr. Markov asked me to deliver these files to you.” He places a stack of folders on my desk.

I nod, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you, Marcus.”

He lingers for a moment, and I can feel his gaze on me. “Is everything all right?” he asks, his tone carefully neutral.

“Of course,” I say, too quickly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment further. “If you need anything, let me know.”

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