Page 22 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
The way his face changes makes me take a quick step back. My ass bumps against the wall behind me, and I lean intoit, away from him. My heart is beating fast. For a moment, I can’t tell what he’s going to do, but he looks so angry I get the feeling he wants to rip this dress off my body and tear it to shreds.
I bite my lips, not hiding a giggle, but trying to hide my fear.
To cover my reaction, I roll my shoulders and huff loudly. “Now leave, so I can change back into my clothes,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my voice shakes.
“I won’t leave. You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted.”
“How did you even find me here?” I snap, heated.
“Darling, I can find you anywhere. Never underestimate me.”
My eyes flare wide when I realize. “You tracked my phone.”
He smirks, not answering.
An indignant snort of annoyance lets him know I disapprove before I march into the private cubicle and slam the door behind me.
It’s only a half-door. The bottom of the floor is open, and it comes just to the height of my head.
To my horror, Emmanuil leans against it, much taller than the door, easily able to see inside.
He isn’t looking at me, but one sideways glance of his eyes and he would see me, with the dress half pulled down over my hips and nothing else on.
I squeal in horror.
“Don’t you have any decency at all?”
“For those I trust, sure. But you’ll need to earn that back,” he says.
“I don’t have to earn anything from you,” I snap, turning my back to him as I wiggle the dress all the way off my body. In the mirror, I see his eyes on me. It flares heated tension inside me. I pretend not to notice, but I decide that if he insists on watching, I’ll make it more aggravating for him.
So I move more slowly.
I still remember all the things I used to do that would drive him crazy.
I arch my back as I step into my jeans, pulling them very slowly up over my ass. I rub my hands over my arms, then up behind my head, pretending to stretch. I let out a soft groan and tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck.
I hear a low growl.
“Hurry the fuck up, how long does it take to get dressed?”
My lips press together to hide my grin again. Good. Be annoyed. You deserve to be annoyed, because you’re annoying me.
With my T-shirt in my hands, I look into the mirror, directly at Emmanuil. He freezes, then hurriedly looks away.
“I’m waiting outside,” he huffs, his footsteps moving away from me.
Chapter 7 - Emmanuil
She was doing that on purpose.
I turn away from the cubicle, tearing my eyes off her, angry that I got so lost in watching her. I didn’t intend to look, but it was impossible. She’s impossible.
Impossible to be around, impossible to deal with. She has no sense of reason or logic. She’s annoying, difficult, and challenging in every way.
She’s fucking toying with me all over again.
She’s so heartless that she doesn’t care what she put me through in the past, and now she’s playing with meagain. Teasing. Pushing my limits. Seducing me. I’m not blind or stupid. I know she was arching her back and moving like that because she remembers I used to love the way she would dance for me.
