Page 69 of Pretty Little Assassin

This look is different, deliberate.

A choice.

Her hand digs into the top of my shoulder. No nails, just grip. Grip that tightens and doesn’t let go.

She opens her mouth, and those delicate lips curl around the words as they spill out.

“Viktor, I need you.”

The sound of her words seems to surprise even her.

“Повтори ещё раз. Say it again…”

“I need you. I don’t want you to leave tonight. I want you to⁠—”

She doesn’t finish it. She doesn’t look away either, and I see what that costs her.

“Do you know what will happen if I stay here with you tonight, little assassin?” I match her tone, deliberate, intentional.

Let her choose it again. Let her have an exit before I can’t stop myself.

“Yes. And I want it.”

Back at the venue, I came unleashed in a different way—carnal, primal, a moving storm of rage, violence, and fury. Now, my frenzy is no less intense, not even gentle, but this ferocity is the kind that will only kill us if I don’t give in to it.

Valentina leans closer. My eyes catch her breasts that my shirt is trying and failing to cover on her lovely body. My cock hardens more. And when her other hand touches the side of my jaw as she kisses me, everything in my body calls out to her.

Mine.

The kiss is brutal in all the best ways, our teeth gnashing against each other. Tongues twisting. Hands grasping. I twist my fingers in her hair, pulling hard enough to tilt her head back and make her mouth open wider for me.

She returns the same energy. Neither of us seems particularly fond of timid.

With one swoop, I have her lifted onto my hips. That shirt doesn’t cover much, even though her tiny body is floating in it. She doesn’t have panties on. I can smell her delicious scent, feel her warmth through the fabric. That omega wet slick, the natural lubrication that is released when aroused and especially plentiful during heat.

The cat gets pushed off the bed as I lay Valentina down on top of it. A mild thud as Mr. Pickles hits the floor. Even with feline grace, the fat tabby doesn’t stick the landing.

Just as I go to climb on top of her, Valentina’s fist hooks me in the jaw.

“That was for tossing my cat on the floor.”

The strike stings my face and surprises me, but I take it. She’s full of rage, recklessness, and raw emotion right now.

The next thing at my jaw isn’t her fist; it’s her mouth.

Valentina’s kiss soothes the sting as her lips slide over my skin. I turn my face to meet hers. I want to taste her.

She tastes as delicious as she smells. Sweet, ornery, complex.

Her legs wrap behind my waist, drawing me closer. She’s exposed. I still have pants on.

I wish I didn’t.

I can rectify that in an instant.

“You’re going to need to let me go so that I can lose the pants.”

Valentina’s legs wrap tighter around me, and her nails dig into my back. She’s never been particularly receptive to being told what to do. She has too much desire to be in control.