Page 51 of His Darkest Obsession
“And you’d be wrong.”
He pushes himself back from the table, chair scraping against the floor, and draws himself up to his full commanding height. Then, he starts walking towards me. Each step is slow and deliberate, and my heart starts thumping in my chest again the closer he gets.
My grip on the knife shifts and I flip it so that I can bring it down on him if I have to.
But if that’s meant to deter him, it does the exact opposite. The smile on Anatoly's face widens as he stops in front of me. His cologne mingles with the lingering scent of me that still clings to his lips.
"Are you trying to draw my blood a fourth time,wife?"
His voice is barely above a whisper, but I feel it reverberate through me.
"I was thinking about it, yeah."
"In that case," he says. "Do your fucking worst."
I breathe. The knife rises. And plunges towards his black heart.
But he's faster than me. He's always been faster than me. He avoids the blade easily enough. Then, in the same motion, five powerful fingers wrap around my fist.
Before I realize what's happening, he's turned me around until my back is pressed against him. His heat blankets me as his fist envelopes mine.
Then, as if to complete his mastery over me, he slams the knife—blade first—down into the table, and drive it into the hard wood without ever letting me go.
His free hand fists in my hair. Once. Twice. Until I can feel every root tugging against my scalp.
His lips brush my ear. “You don’t trust me. Even though I gave you my word.”
“The words of a criminal.”
He leans in even closer, and I swear I can hear both our hearts pounding in the ever-shrinking space between us.
"I may be a criminal, Indigo, but I'm anhonestcriminal. There are men out there who hide behind suits and smiles and promises of doing good while they do terrible things to those they consider lesser.”
I know. God, I know.
Gravity shifts and suddenly I find myself being bent over the table. My chest makes contact with the hard surface and air is driven from my lungs. The knife between us feels like a conduit, reminding me that even though I'm holding the weapon, he controls all the power.
“I don’t hide who and what I am,” he says. “I never have. Not with you. And when I told you that I won’t fuck you until you beg for it, I mean it."
"Then what the fuck is this?" I snarl.
His chuckle vibrates against my shoulder as he presses closer until I feel him throbbing behind me. "I believe some would call this restraint."
Something inside me responds to his word. To my shock, I find myself shifting against him, my body starts wriggling against his, not in useless struggle but as if seeking closer contact. The movement is subtle but unmistakable.
His grip tightens.
A bolt of panic shoots through me. What am I doing?
"If I were a lesser man,printsessa." Anatoly's dark chuckle rumbles against my back, his breath warm against my ear. "I'd call that begging."
The smugness in his voice snaps me back to reality. I try to still my movements but my body is screaming for his touch despite my mind's protest.
"But that isn't begging.” He leans in and his lips brush my ear with every word. “Wriggling your hips doesn't count."
His hand releases my hair and finds the flat space between my shoulder blades. The weight presses me into the table until every part of my body, from my tightening nipples to my sensitive skin becomes all too aware of the hard unfeeling surface.
He grips the back of my neck and an unpleasant memory starts clawing from the depth of my mind. My heart beats so fast against my throat that I swear it’ll leap out of my mouth.
