Page 37 of Anton

“Have you ever…” She twists the cap back on and sets her drink on the counter before trying again. “Have you ever lived with a girlfriend?”

I scoff. “You ask a lot of questions. Are you planning to write my biography?”

She chuckles and moves toward me, stopping near enough that her warmth engulfs me. Then her palm cups my cheek, her thumb brushing over my stubble, and I hate how much I like it.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Why?” I whisper.

What the hell are you looking for?

“Because…” Her eyes hold mine. “I like you.”

The confession tears through what little logic I have left. My arm twines around her waist and I spin her until her back meets the counter. I press into her, trapping her between my body and the edge, making sure she feels every inch of me, especially the rock-hard erection I now have thanks to her.

Her eyes go wide, chest heaving.

Blyat, she’s beautiful. Those big brown eyes hold me captive as my hand wraps around her throat.

“You shouldn’t like me. Nothing good would come of it.”

She lifts her chin higher as her fingertips graze my jaw. “Why not? I know you feel this too.”

Because you don’t know what I am or what you’ll find once you get close enough. And when this ends, you’ll be the one who pays for it.

I search her face, trying to understand what the hell she’s doing and why I haven’t ordered her to leave. Worse, why the thought of her leaving is the last thing I want.

“I think you like me being here,” she adds, digging the knife in deeper as her touch returns to my forearm. “I think you want someone around. Maybe you’re scared you’d actually like it.”

“I’m not scared of a goddamn thing,” I snap, my grip tightening around her throat.

Her arm slides around my back. She’s not afraid of me in the slightest.

“We’re all scared of something, Anton,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving mine. “That doesn’t make it a weakness.”

“It does.” Every instinct in me fights what she’s saying.

Her lips twitch. “Do I make you angry?”

“Yes.” My face drops closer, her mouth tempting me with every pull, every drag of air that hits my lungs. “Even when you’re not here.”

“Wow. I must’ve made quite the impression.”

“You’re poison.” I lower my mouth until barely an inch separates us, close enough that the slightest movement would bring her lips to mine.

“It’s a good thing I know you don’t mean that.” Her grip tightens as her eyes fix on mine, drawing me in until there’s no room left between us.

My cock presses hard against her stomach, impossible for her not to feel, yet she refuses to react. I push into her, determined to get something, and her breath catches. Her eyes drop to my mouth before lifting to mine again.

“Kiss me,” she breathes.

A low groan escapes me as my fingers knot in her hair and tip her head back. “I don’t kiss.”

My grip loosens, trailing down to her bare thigh and finding her skin every bit as soft as I imagined.

“Never?” The word dissolves into a moan.

“No.”