Page 79 of Mountain Daddy

"From what?"

The question stops me cold. Because there’s no answer without admitting the truth. I protected my son from him. From his world.

His face goes very still. Very cold.

"I see."

"Nikolai—"

"No." He holds up a hand. "I get it. I'm the monster. The criminal. Not good enough for your precious son."

"That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?"

He moves then. Fast as lightning. Backs me against the wall before I can react.

"Let me ask you something, Lilly. If I'm so dangerous, so wrong for you, then why are you here?"

"I told you. I was returning your wallet."

"Bullshit."

His body pins me to the wall. Hot. Hard. Overwhelming.

"You're here because you can't stay away. Because despite everything you tell yourself, you want me."

"I don't?—"

"You do. I can smell it on you. Can see it in your eyes."

His mouth hovers inches from mine. So close I can feel his breath on my lips.

His mouth hovers inches from mine. So close I can feel his breath ghost over my lips. Hot. Sharp. Infuriatingly sure of himself.

“You’re trembling,” he says, voice low, almost a growl. “Is it fear… or want?”

My hands flatten against his chest, meaning to push. Meaning to regain some kind of control. But the feel of him—solid muscle, heat radiating through his skin—melts my resistance like sugar in tea.

I hate him. I want him.

He’s close enough to steal my breath. Close enough to burn every lie off my skin. I know I should walk away—but my body refuses to obey. My hands move before my brain catches up.

And so instead, I clench his shirt into my fists and pull him closer. Until our lips smash against one another’s. Until he’s kissing me so damn hard, like he’s fueled by anger.

And I’m all for it. I slide my tongue over his lips and he opens for me. All teeth and tongue and desperate hunger.

My hands fist in his hair. Pull him closer. Like I can't get enough. Like I'm drowning and he's air.

His hands are everywhere. Sliding down my sides. Gripping my ass. Pulling me against him so I can feel how hard he is.

"Fuck," he growls against my mouth. "You drive me insane."

He spins me around. Walks me backward toward the bedroom. His hands work at the buttons of my dress as we move. There’s more skin and less clothes now.

I arch into his touch.

"That's it," he murmurs. "That's my girl."

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