Page 28 of Mountain Daddy

Tiger eyes.

The kind of beautiful that leads good girls straight to hell.

I freeze. Shake. Go breathless and heady. He takes my keys from my trembling fingers, unlocks my door. Pushes it open.

We climb three flights of stairs in silence. Outside my apartment, he takes the keys again. Lets us in.

My place is small. One bedroom, kitchen barely big enough for two people. Nothing like his penthouse suite.

But he doesn't seem to notice the difference.

The door closes behind us with a click. A gunshot in the silence.

“Nikolai—”

“I can leave,” he cuts me off. Burns a hole into my heart from how he stares.

The thought. The idea. Of having him so close. Of depriving myself ofone more nightscares the hell out of me.

Feels like I’m having something precious snatched away.

I meet his gaze. Shake my head. Ever so slowly. Afraid. Testing what I’m afraid to admit out loud.

And just like that, the tiger in him roars. His eyes turn hungry and he’s standing skin to skin. One hand fists in my hair, angles my head.

My heart races. Hands go clammy. Toes curl.

And then, his lips brush against mine. Teasing, filtering.

I moan and the kiss is no longer precious. It’s raw, wild, starved. His tongue slides across my lips, forces its way in. He slides it over the roof of my mouth. Teeth graze teeth. Fist pulls hair. Heart calls to heart.

It's not gentle.

It's possession.

Claim.

I should remember what I just witnessed in that alley. Instead, I kiss him back just as desperately.

His hands are everywhere—sliding down my back, gripping my ass, pulling me against him so I can feel how hard he is already. The evidence of his want makes me moan into his mouth.

“I can't stop thinking about you,” he growls against my lips. “About this.”

His hand slides between my legs, pressing against me through my skirt. Through my panties, I can feel the heat of his palm.

His touch sears.

My hips buck involuntarily.

“Every night,” he slides down the zipper. “I think of how you taste. How you feel wrapped around me. How you scream my name.”

The skirt drops and I’m on fire with need for him. His hand slides inside my panties.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You're so wet already.”

I am. God help me, I am. Despite what I witnessed. Despite knowing what he's capable of. Despite everything logical and rational,my bodywants him.

Needs him.

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