Page 30 of One Love

I slowly turn the key in my lock and push open my door, the smell of cooking onions assaulting my senses.

What the…?

Now that my door’s open, the sound of country music playing from my kitchen is clear. Then I hear his voice, singing along to something about whiskey. I take a deep breath because this fucker just won’t stop.

It takes me mere seconds to walk into my kitchen, the barrel of my gun pressed against the back of Dmitry’s head as he stands in front of the stove that has been used a grand total of never since I’ve lived here.

“Ooh, foreplay! Thought we’d do that after some food.” He turns to face me, my gun now directed at his forehead, and steps forward, so close that my chest practically heaves against his. Then he wags his brows, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” My words are low, quiet, barely a whisper, and the threat in them is clear.

“Thought I’d make us a snack before bed. Cooking is my love language.”

“Presumptuous much? Just because I let you make me comeonetime doesn’t obligate me to give you any more. Get. The fuck. Out.” With each word, I take small steps toward him, pushing him backward into the countertop behind him. My gun is still against his skull and now I’m on my tiptoes, my nose pressed against his, my eyes narrowed on his pale green ones.

“Mmm, I love it when you threaten me. I’m starting to think it’syourlove language. I can work with that.”

And he isn’t lying, the feel of his hard cock against my stomach is doing things to my insides and my breathing has become heavy. But the fact he’s used the word love three times in as many minutes is making me question his sanity.

He’s invading every aspect of my life and I’m not used to this behavior. The standing firm against me, ignoring my simple requests, my privacy; he’s stirring feelings inside me that I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for and it’s fucking confusing. So I step back and hit him in the face with the butt of my gun, across the cheek, not hard enough to break anything, but his head moves to the side and I have to hide my smile.

Seconds pass before he lifts his hand to his face, slowly turning back to look at me again. The smile on his face is feral, sending heat straight to my core.

“Do it again.”

He’s fucking serious?

He begins stalking toward me, to where I’ve backed up and am trying to control my breaths. The look in his eyes is dangerous, addictive, and I do exactly as he requests, I go to punch him again.

This time, he blocks it, gripping my wrist and continuing to walk into me. We’re now chest to chest again because I refuse to back up any more. Without another word, I swing my left fist into his stomach before gripping the arm he is holding me with and dragging him further into my living room to flip him onto his back.

“Get out of my house, Dmitry. There’s no reason for you to be here.” My gun is on the kitchen counter now, because I’m not going to shoot him. Something inside me wants him to fight back, but if he does then I know he won’t be leaving this apartment.

“Oh, Little Demon, of course there is.”

It happens so quickly I almost miss it, but the fucker throws a dagger at me, one that imbeds itself into the wall directly behind me.

“You fucker.” I’m on him in seconds, throwing punches at him, straddling his waist until he grips my fists and flips me onto my back.

The sadistic asshole is laughing as he nips at my bottom lip, his solid cock perfectly aligned with my pussy before I manage to get an arm free and punch him in the ribs. This would be over in seconds if I reached for one of my knives, if I wanted to do some serious damage. He’s winded from my last hit, and during the brief moment he is distracted from the pain, I slide my legs back under him and kick him off.

My breaths are heavy, fast, and adrenaline is pumping through my veins as he stands again, the dangerous grin on his face going nowhere.

“You’re fucking incredible.” His voice is full of lust, of promises I don’t want, of need for something I can’t give.

“And you’re a fucking idiot.”

He laughs again and moves toward me as I rush to the kitchen in the direction of the burning smell now filling my nostrils. Theonions in the frying pan are a black mess as I turn off the knob at the same time as grabbing the knife sitting on the counter. I don’t take my eyes off him as he leisurely walks over without a care in the world, a bruise forming on his cheek just below his scar.

When he’s a few feet away, I throw myself at him, pushing him against the wall and holding the knife to his throat. “You need to get out while you still have your life, Dmitry. I’m not playing this game anymore.”

“Who said I was playing a game, Little Demon?” He pushes his head forward, pressing his neck against the blade, and kisses me. No, this is not a kiss, he’s devouring me.

His tongue demands entrance and I open up for him, allowing this crazy man to claim my mouth with a fiery passion until I regain some sense of control and pull back. There’s a thin line of blood along his neck where my knife broke the skin and a heat in his pale eyes that would make a weaker woman beg.

Deliberately and slowly, he raises a hand to his neck and slides his fingers across the small trickle of blood before bringing them to my mouth. My lips part for him, red flags popping up in my brain telling me a million reasons why this is a bad idea, but fuck do I want this man.

Just for tonight. I can allow myself that. I’ve earned the time out, haven’t I?

---