Page 18 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Anya walks into the house ahead of me, ignoring my mood as though she hasn’t noticed it. Why does everything she does aggravate me even more?
“I did not give you permission to leave the house,” I snap.
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes ever so slightly.
“I don’t need your permission, Emmanuil. I’m not a child,” she says calmly.
The front door closes behind us. Anya turns towards the stairs to head up to her room, and I grab her arm and pull her towards me. This conversation is not over. She doesn’t get to walk away like that.
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” I snarl, pushing her against the wall and pinning her there, forcing her to face me.
My eyes pierce into her like daggers.
“I’m notplayingat anything. I don’t play games, despite your accusations.”
“You were playing games with the lives of my cousins. Even if you have no regard for your own safety, how dare you put them in danger like that?” I growl, the scent of her perfume even more intoxicating with her body pinned beneath mine against the wall.
She squirms, trying to get away, but all she manages to do is rub herself against me, flaring my desire. “Get off me right now. You have no right to speak to me like this,” she hisses.
I grab her wrists and pin them above her head. “I have every right to do whatever I please to you, kitten.”
Her eyes flare wide, pure horror flashing over her face. “Don’t call me that,” she whispers.
“Why not? You used to love it,” I say darkly, my eyes on her lips.
“Let me go, Emmanuil. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She squirms again, and my cock stirs.
“You did. You put yourself and them in danger.”
“No, I didn’t,” she says, her anger growing.
“Any of my enemies could have followed you. You didn’t even have a guard with you.” My anger is growing, too. She looks so tempting, her arms pinned against the wall, her body pressed beneath mine, her breasts against my chest, and her face turned up towards me. The look in her eyes is fierce. Challenging. It makes me want to punish her—those games we used to play. She would push her luck, doing what I told her not to, and she’d end up with my handprint on her ass cheek.
“Do you forget that I’ve grown up with a brother who is a Bratva leader? I’m not as dumb as you think I am, Emmanuil. I know how to handle myself and stay safe.”
I barely hear her answer, because all I can think about is the heat from her body, the shape of her, how easy it would be to take her.
My eyes lock with hers as we stare each other down. The tension between us shifts into something else, electricity builds,her breathing becomes sharper, quicker. I can feel her heart beating through her chest.
Leaning down, I move closer to her, her lips only inches from mine. I can almost remember her taste, and in this moment, all I want is to know it again.
I want to feel those smooth, perfectly plump lips locked with mine.
A soft sound escapes her as her lips part. Her cheeks flush red immediately.
My cock stirs, growing harder, and in an instant, I realize what’s happening.
Hurriedly, I step back, furious that I’m still so uncontrollably attracted to her. Furious that all I want is to kiss her. Furious that I forgot why I was angry with her in the first place.
How fucking stupid am I to fall for her temptation again?
Anya stays with her back against the wall, her eyes bright with shock. She looks as taken aback as I am. Would she have let me kiss her?
Does it matter?
No, it doesn’t fucking matter. There will be no kissing.
I sneer, glaring at her one last time.
