Page 111 of Hunt Me
No, a media circus wasn’t in my best interest.
What then? What could I possibly do that would give me the answers?
There were no answers. None. I hated this. I hated him. I hated life.
Then why could I not stop thinking about him?
Being inside Callie’s apartment was a reminder I’d need to plan my charade in case questions were asked. My sister had obviously heard about Sergio’s murder. How could I explain my behavior around his death? My head ached just trying to put pieces together.
“Ugh!” I fisted my hand, banging it gently against my forehead. I was such a stupid girl for falling for a man like Mikhail. Wait a minute. Had I just admitted I’d fallen for him? Not a chance. I was smarter than that.
Or was I?
Wired.
I was wired to the hilt, my nerves completely frayed. Up until the moment Mikhail had dropped me off where I’d left my car at Josie’s, I’d been numb. Maybe I’d been in shock.
There were a half dozen reasons, every one more like an excuse than an intelligent thought.
Every time I moved, I was reminded he’d spanked me.
With a belt.
A few hours hadn’t changed anything. The tingling pain was a reminder that he was still in control of me.
Mikhail.
The hardheaded, sexy as sin Russian had pulled me into a crazy vacuum, frying my mind with his control and sexiness.
And I hated myself for the intense longing that refused to leave.
What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with me?
Had the sexy Russian brainwashed me when I hadn’t been looking? Had he poisoned a drink, turning me into a zombie who craved what only he could provide? I just didn’t know. What I did know is that I couldn’t move away from the window.
As soon as I’d hit the road leaving Josie’s, I’d noticed a car following me. Not too close to create suspicions, but close enough there was no room for doubt Mikhail was making good on his… promises.
I shuddered thinking of the last statement he’d made and the look in his eyes. Yet the darkness in them didn’t terrify me. It excited me as the thought was doing right now. My pussyquivered in response to my ridiculous thoughts, the tickle of hunger lingering as did his scent.
Which still covered every inch of my body. I pressed my fingers to my lips, realizing they were swollen from the rough kisses. I could taste the man on my tongue, for God’s sake.
Huffing, I pulled away from the window. Maybe another shower would help. Somehow, I had the feeling I could use an entire bottle of shower gel and still not remove his scent. It was imbedded all the way into my bloodstream.
How in God’s name was I supposed to go about working with my dad and pretending I wasn’t going behind his back?
Oh, this was a nightmare.
I stormed into the kitchen. There was no work today. I needed to regroup. I wasn’t going to take a single other Door Dash run. That was for certain. I needed time to myself to process what I’d experienced.
And why I couldn’t get Mikhail out of my mind. Was he that powerful?
I’d actually enjoyed the asshole fucking me.
I’d relished the touch of his fingers, the way every brush of his thumb scalded my skin, the surge in my desire that had kept me wet.
Frustrated, I searched for wine. Any wine. At this point needing alcohol wasn’t about finding liquid courage, but about forgetting.
Him.
