Page 6 of His Grip

Sofia’s breath hitched. She needed water; her mind spun as her toes curled in reaction to his words. They sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her, almost pushing her to plead for more.

“I told you,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto the lust flooding her face, the wild desire aching to be released. “You can’t fight me, Sofia. Your body craves me. Your whole being is craving me.”

“Viktor…” she protested weakly, her voice trembling. “Let me go.”

“I will,” he drawled, nodding. “But I need you to admit that you want me to. It doesn’t have to be now, but when I leave, I want you to think about me so much that it makes you wet. I want you to touch yourself, wondering how it would feel if it was my finger inside you. You do touch yourself, don’t you?”

“You’re such an ass, Viktor. I have to say, this is the most inappropriate conversation to have with someone you just met.”

“What would you have me talk about then?” he questioned, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “Or would rather we don’t talk, and Idosomething then? Is that it? Does your body expect something?”

Sofia shook her head, but her eyes betrayed her, roaming over his face as her breath quickened. She couldn’t help but glance at his lips—hot and inviting—and closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to calm down. But as Viktor pressed against her,her nipples brushed against his chest, and her senses spun into a frenzy. He hooked a thumb under her jaw, lifting her face to meet his, sending a thrill coursing down her body.

She trembled, torn between resistance and submission.

He hovered near her face for a moment, intentionally driving her wild with desire before angling his head and claiming her lips. Sofia gasped into his mouth, an overwhelming rush of sensations flooding her like a dam had burst. No matter how hard she tried to regain control, her resolve faltered.

One hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her impossibly closer as she melted into the kiss. As he tugged at her bottom lip and nibbled gently, she found herself kissing him back, forgetting why she had tried to resist him in the first place.

Her hands, once fists of defiance, softened as they glided over his chest, gripping his shirt as she surrendered. The flames of passion consumed her, erasing the boundaries she had fought so hard to maintain.

Her body ached for his touch, and she instinctively pressed against him. He chuckled against her lips, but as swiftly as the kiss began, he pulled away, leaving Sofia adrift in a sea of sensations. Her lips tingled, aching for his return, but clarity hit her like a cold splash of water, and she glared at him, frustration burning bright.

“Why—why did you stop?” she grumbled, an avalanche of unanswered questions weighing heavily on her.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, his dark eyes holding a hint of amusement. “Because you’re not ready for this,” he murmured.

She blinked, the truth of his words sinking in. He was right. No matter how much she craved him, she wasn’t ready—and that realization stung more than she was willing to admit.

Fury bubbled up, drowning the confusion and desire he had ignited. She shot him a glare that could melt steel. “You arrogantbastard,” she spat, pushing against his chest with enough force to make him stagger back.

He didn’t resist; instead, he simply watched her, his expression impassive, though the slight lift of his brow hinted at some hidden satisfaction.

Sofia withdrew, trying to compose herself. Her hands shook slightly, but she clenched them into fists, nails digging into her palms as she struggled to steady herself. “Don’t ever do that again,” she warned, her voice steady despite the tremor beneath it.

Viktor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer. “You’re too emotional right now. Maybe you’ll see things more clearly later.”

“Later?” She laughed, but it sounded brittle, edged with disbelief. “There is no later, Viktor. I won’t let you manipulate me like this.”

“I’m not manipulating you,” he said quietly. “I’m just giving you the space and time to prepare for me. But make no mistake, Sofia,” he added, “this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger coursing through her veins, but beneath it lay something else—something unspoken and elusive.

He was right. This was far from over.

CHAPTER 3

Viktor

The sharp scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the room, mingling with the faint hum of the city outside. Viktor sat at the long mahogany table in Konstantin’s private office, his fingers resting lightly on the polished surface, a mask of indifference carefully crafted over his features. He wasn’t here for pleasantries; he had no time for idle chatter. But the man sitting across from him was a different story.

Konstantin Mikhailov, his father’s old associate, had called for this meeting. Viktor wasn’t surprised. The Mikhailovs had a way of finding trouble, and Viktor had been waiting for the day Konstantin would come asking for help. But what he hadn’t anticipated was the offer he’d walk away with.

Konstantin poured whisky into two glasses, his movements deliberate, almost ceremonial as he slid one across the desk to Viktor. “It’s a 1945 brew. Ten grand a bottle.”

Viktor eyed the glass, twirling it lazily in his hand as the amber liquid smeared the sides. It didn’t look quite as pricelessas Konstantin claimed, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t here for the drinks.

Being in Konstantin’s office, surrounded by its heavy oak furniture and the faint scent of cigar smoke, felt strange. Uneasy. The older man leaned back in his leather chair, spinning tales of his glory days with a smirk that carried more pride than nostalgia. They weren’t friends—not by a long shot—but they weren’t exactly enemies either. Their relationship lived in the gray, somewhere between mutual benefit and mutual distrust. Konstantin was trouble, Viktor knew that much.

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