Page 52 of Konstantin
Only when I’m being seduced by a Bratva kingpin.
“Not usually. But I’ll have one. Splash of cream, one sugar.”
He lets out a low chuckle, rich and smooth, the sound curling through me like a thick vine. As he pours from one of the silver pitchers, the scent hits me first: rich, bitter, and far too inviting. With both drinks in hand, he turns and settles beside me, closer than necessary, and offers me my cup.
Our fingers brush, barely a graze, but it sparks something low and hot inside me, undoing the control I’ve been clutching to like a lifeline. His eyes latch on to mine, and I swear he can feel the shift inside me.
I bring the cup to my lips, desperate for a distraction. The warmth of the coffee grounds me, the bitter strength of it anchoring me just enough to pretend I’m unaffected.
But it still tastes like him. Dangerous. Addictive. Impossible to ignore.
He continues to watch, like he’s trying to memorize the way I react to every little thing.
The seatbelt sign dings softly overhead, and within minutes, the jet lifts into the sky with barely a tremor. I force a slow breath through my nose, keeping my posture composed while lowering my mug.
Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a trip. He’s not taking me somewhere to kill me.
Well, at least I hope not…
But to be on the safe side, I sent messages to both Riley and Gerardo before I left. If anything happens, they’ll know where to look.
“Relax, Ms. Monroe.” His palm, warm and heavy, settles on my thigh like it belongs there. “Are you nervous?” Thick fingers cinch around my flesh. “If so, I have a few ways I can help.”
“I’m sure you do.” I sound composed, but my body is a traitor, a pulsing need unfurling from the weight of his touch.
I glance down at his hand, broad and possessive, and silently thank myself for not wearing a dress. Or maybe curse myself. It’s hard to tell the difference right now.
He shifts slightly, angling toward me with an ease that feels more like a stalk than a gesture. “It’s a short flight. We’ll be in Chicago soon. You’ll sit in on the meeting, take notes. And after that…” His eyes glint. “The evening is ours.”
I should ask what that means. Whathisversion of “ours” includes. But the words catch in my throat when his gaze drops to my mouth, remaining there like he’s already tasted it.
Then slowly, his thumb sweeps across my lower lip.
Awareness ignites within me. The move is both intimate and greedy. Like he’s claiming space he hasn’t earned, but fully intends to take.
“Just enjoy yourself,” he murmurs. “Don’t fight it so hard. It’s not good for you.”
“And you know what’s good for me?” I try to come off indifferent, but his fingers grip my thigh tighter, and suddenly the silence between us thickens, humming with something unspoken.
“Of course I do. I know everything.”
I should pull back. Say something sharp and deflect. But I don’t move. I stay perfectly still, every nerve lit up as his mouth hovers overmine, close enough that one breath would erase the space between us.
The plane suddenly jolts, a sharp burst of turbulence throwing me off-balance, and I surge forward.
His arms are around me in an instant—steady, firm, anchoring me like he’s done it a hundred times before.
But it’s not the strength of his grip that undoes me. It’s the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m his.
“You alright, katyonak?” The affection in his tone hits me hard as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Kitten. That damn word again. I looked it up the last time he said it. I told myself I hated it…but something about the way he says it makes my chest hit with a twinge.
“I’m fine.” I shift slightly, putting space between us as I reach for my coffee, but it does nothing to douse the wildfire burning under my skin.
I shouldn’t want him. It’s a betrayal to everything I took an oath to stand against.
But the truth is, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel.
