Page 14 of Imperfect Desires

Lev’s mouth curves faintly. He steps closer. His hand drops to his side. His gaze lingers on me. “Reading is one of my few hobbies.”

I feel the heat of his presence. My pulse quickens beneath my skin. I sit back in the chair, watching him. Trying to pretend I'm an adult who is wise in my ways.

I need to act the way I want him to see me.

“You like history?”

Lev shrugs. “I like knowing how things began.”

I swallow hard. My eyes drop to his hands. His knuckles are scarred, the tendons taut under his skin. He appears relaxed, but I know better. Lev is never truly relaxed. Bratva men never relax.

He shifts closer. My breath tightens.

“Why are you hiding in here?” he asks.

“I’m not hiding.”

Lev’s gaze sharpens. “No?”

I meet his eyes. “No.”

Lev’s mouth tilts faintly. He leans against the edge of the table and hums, as if lost in deep thought. His voice vibrates low and deep in my chest. “You’re the quiet one, aren’t you?”

My mouth parts. “What?”

“Yelena makes herself known,” he says. “You… disappear.”

“I don’t disappear,” I whisper.

Lev’s gaze sharpens. His eyes glint beneath the low light. “No. You don’t.”

My chest tightens painfully. My breath feels too thin. This is it. My chance.

My hand slides up his forearm. My fingertips skim over the rough ridge of his skin. Lev’s gaze drops toward my hand—but he doesn’t move away.

My breath catches.

“Lev,” I whisper.

His gaze darkens.

I lean in before I can lose my nerve. My lips brush against his—soft, tentative. The taste of him is everything I envisaged and more. He tastes of cigar, whisky, and something spicy. His scent is dark, musky and intoxicating.

Lev stiffens. For a moment, his lips freeze beneath me. And then he kisses me back.

His mouth opens beneath mine, and I feel the sharp drag of his breath. His hand slides to my waist. His fingers tighten—possessive and hot through the thin fabric of my dress, and my heart soars. He kisses me like a hungry man who has finally stumbled on a buffet. I close my eyes to savor the heady feelings swelling in my brain. An involuntary moan tears through my lungs, and then he stops.

Lev’s hand tightens at my waist before he shoves me back—not hard, but firm. His chest is heaving beneath his shirt, his gaze dark and conflicted.

“Stop,” he says. His voice is sharp and rough.

My breath shudders. My chest contracts painfully. “Lev—”

“No.” His gaze flashes dangerously. He steps back, putting space between us.

“Why?” My voice breaks.

Lev’s jaw tightens. “Because you’re Viktor’s sister.”

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