Page 20 of Ruthless Bratva King

I shake my head, trying to regain control of the situation, of myself. “You need to leave.”

“I thought you were the one leaving,” he says, straightening but not stepping back. “But we both know you don’t want to. Not anymore.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to pull that hideous sweater off you and play with those hard little nipples of yours.”

Holy shit.His eyes sear me like a brand, and I struggle to speak, shock stealing my breath.

“You can’t say that,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down so the librarian doesn’t throw us out. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“Me?” he murmurs. “No, you couldn’t, and you know it. And let’s be honest—you want my fingers plunging into your pussy while you moan my name. You want me to taste how wet you get while I lick your swollen clit, don’t you?”

My face burns, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it might break free of my ribcage. No one ever said things like this to me, let alone a dangerous, problematic creature like Dmitri.

“You can’t talk to me that way,” I say, my voice weak.

“Why not?” he challenges, his eyes dark and dangerous. “You wanted the truth. I want you, Elena. But the more important question is, do you want me?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. He takes a slow step toward me, his movements fluid, and I freeze.

“Do you know what your problem is, Elena?” he asks, his mouth beside my ear.

“My problem?” I snap, trying to ignore the way my body reacts to the sound of my name on his lips. “You’remy problem. You won’t leave me alone.”

He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down my spine. “Your problem,” he continues, ignoring my outburst, “is that you keep running from the things you want.”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He’s close now, too close, the clean, woodsy scent of him teasing my senses.

“You don’t know me,” I whisper.

“Don’t I?” He steps closer still, until there’s barely an inch between us. His voice drops to a low rumble, for my ears only. “You run from your talent. You run from your desire. It must be exhausting, being you.”

I’m trembling, every nerve ending alight, but I refuse to let him see how much his words affect me. “You’re delusional.”

He smirks, his eyes raking over me. “Am I?”

I try to move past him, but his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make me stop.

“Let go of me,” I say.

He loosens his grip, and I stagger back from him, my breath shallow.

“Leave me alone,” I say, walking backwards toward the door. “I’m nobody. Don’t do this to me.”

“No can do, I’m afraid,” he murmurs, his smile laced with promise. “And when we meet again, I’ll make you admit you want me.”

15

ELENA

The warm aroma of garlic and onions fills Veronica’s tiny apartment. She moves around me with effortless grace, stirring a pot on the stove while humming along to Olivia Rodriguez.

I chop carrots too quickly, almost cutting my finger off. If I did, maybe it would stop me thinking of Dmitri for five minutes.

“So,” she says, leaning against the counter with a wooden spoon in hand, “are you going to tell me why you’re tweaking like a squirrel on crack, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

I glance up from the massacre I’ve made of the carrot slices. “I’m fine.”

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