Page 55 of Violent Pawn

He’s waiting for consent.

This would be the chance to push him away, demand he leave, and pretend none of the past twenty-four hours happened.

Blayt, at this point, I’m denying myself.

I lift onto my toes.

He takes over, his fingers sliding into my hair to hold me steady as his mouth crashes against mine. I once compared his eyes to an ocean. Oceans are endless, vast, and I could very well find myself drowning in him with only a bit of eye contact.

It turns out, water isn’t the strongest force on the planet. A storm is. As his lips demand more and his tongue brings me to life, a powerful frenzy sparks forth a giant flame and tornado-level gusts that leave me clinging for stability. A tropical storm that tears me into rubble in his hands to be pieced back together.

We’re moving, and it isn’t until the bed hits my knees that I realize where he’s walked me to. He breaks from my mouth, panting as he pulls back for just a moment, showing the storm within his expression too. The blue that is no longer calm but full of wind.

His grip tightens in my hair as he yanks me upright, moves between my legs, and pulls my mouth back to his.

I should hate this. His hold. His control. It’s everything that has my heart hammering…but not for reasons connected to my trauma. For once, for the first time ever, I’m not seeing them.

Only Nero.

I find myself touching him. His hips, then up his side until my fingers curl into his shirt. I can’t determine if I’m holding him from fear of the unknown or fear he’ll end this before I want to.

He breaks from my mouth to slide his lips along my jaw, nipping and sucking—marking.

Don’t, I want to demand. Don’t leave more memories. The words get swallowed by his mouth, the storm not only breaking me apart but destroying my life, my dignity, and my sense of worth.

He lowers me onto the bed, following me down while somehow remaining standing. I’m thankful for that, as this morning proved what him being on top might spark and would prefer not to have a repeat.

“On the pillows,” he murmurs against my lips, and I take back all those previous thoughts.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

He smirks, gazing down as his fingers dislodge from my hair to pet it instead. “I’m not asking you to. It’s been a long day, so we should rest. But I want to do it right here, with you. A repeat of last night while ensuring a better morning tomorrow.”

Oh. Lips feeling swollen and bruised from his intensity while my legs are clamped tightly together to hide the desire coursing through them, I feel awkward and ready to agree to at least one of his demands. I push into place against my pillows and slip beneath the blanket.

Nero toes off his shoes but leaves the rest of his clothes on and slides beneath the blanket beside me, head onto the pillow.

“Sleeping in jeans is a choice. You won’t be comfortable.”

“Removing them will make you uncomfortable, and I’m happy as long as you’re content. Go to sleep, Ana.”

With my chest feeling a million degrees warmer, and my heart swelling in my chest trying to tell me something, I don’t have it in me to correct the usage of my nickname. I lie down beside him and let myself drift, fingers to my lips where the memory of his kiss will live.

Right before darkness swells around me, I feel his hand slide over my hip.

Nero is gone when I wake the next morning…and it leaves me confused.

He’s nowhere in the house, and Zeno reports he took off early.

A few hours later, we’re headed to the plane to return to Russia, and there is still no sign of him.

Message received, Amato.

This is why I never wanted him as a friend.

28

NERO