Page 48 of Anton

Then, at the last possible instant, he drags his tongue across my chin. “All better.”

My heart kicks so violently, it almost hurts.

Anton holds my stare while his thumb traces my lower lip, leaving me to wonder why he won’t put his mouth there instead. We’ve already had sex. Why is kissing me such a big deal?

“Uh…thanks.” I clasp my trembling hands together in my lap.

A flicker of smug triumph crosses his face before he returns to his meal, perfectly composed while my thoughts remain completely scrambled.

ANTON

Why can’t I get her out of my fucking system? Why did I ask her to stay?

Chto ya delayu? What am I doing?

And she cooked for me? Why would she do that?

No one has ever cooked for me before. I’m not sure I hate it either. Or maybe it’s because it’s from her.

Blyat. Here I go again with that bullshit.

The longer I sit beside her, listening to her talk and laugh, the more I realize I don’t actually mind it. And that’s the problem.

Because nothing good ever stays, and eventually she’ll be gone too.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ANTON

Aleksei’s basement gym is the only place I want to be the next day. I need a sparring partner. Something to hit so I can stop thinking about her face, her laugh, and everything else irritating about her.

My fist slams into the heavy bag, sending it swinging as the chains rattle overhead, and I hit it again, then again, each strike heavier than the last. Still, her laughter comes back louder, along with the smug little smile she wore when I let her stay, as though she’d beaten me at some kind of game. I’ve never enjoyed losing this much before.

With a roar, I drive my fist into the bag again.

“If you are planning to kill it, maybe warn it first?”

I glance over at Aleksei, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, amusement drawing at his mouth. “Shut up.”

He snickers. “Chto s toboy?” What’s wrong with you? His eyes narrow, too interested for my liking. “Can’t be pussy, so it has to be something else.”

“Nothing.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can see it all over his face.

Turning away, I collect my sparring gloves from the bench, sliding them on and flexing my fingers. “Stop talking and get your gloves on before I decide not to give you a chance.”

Aleksei chuckles, pushing off the wall. “There is my brother.”

He reaches for his own gloves while I roll my neck, shoving every thought of her back where it belongs: out of my damn head.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Aleksei says, stepping in front of me.

He’s ready to go, just not as ready as I am. He comes at me first, and I block the strike before throwing one back so hard he laughs through his teeth.

We circle each other, trading blows, and with every strike, I tell myself the same thing.