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It already feels dangerous, but when he gets on and I wrap my arms around his thick waist, I feel safe against his body.
He puts on a pair of sunglasses, guns the engine, and I shriek when we take off like we’re heading to the moon.
That thrill he mentioned is the same that keeps getting me in trouble with him.
It’s happening again. This time, I’m taking off on the back of his motorcycle with my ass in the air. Thank God I wore jeans today and carried my satchel.
I screw my eyes shut, unaware of when we leave campus or when we reach the road. All I do is hold on, and I don’t know which emotion is worse right now—the terror of this ride or the temptation of being so close to him.
We go faster, at light speed, and my body fills with the sound of the engine and him—his heart beating and the fiery, dangerous essence that makes him the rebel he is.
Soon it feels like we’re flying and the excitement of living on the edge ripples through me.
I chance opening my eyes and see the trees and houses flickering past in a blur.
We ride like that for close to an hour before we start to slow down as we approach the house. In a car, I’d still be traveling and probably stuck in rush hour traffic.
The gates open for us and a slow ride up the driveway takes us right to the door.
I release Desmier and he gets off the bike, pulling off his glasses with a grin.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I roll my eyes at him and relax a little because it was fun. “No.”
“Perfect. Next time, you’ll feel like a pro.”
“Next time?” He’s picking me up again?
“Yeah, next time.”
He lifts me off like I’m weightless and when my feet touch the ground, I stumble like I just got off a rollercoaster ride. Laughing, he catches me, but then the playfulness in his expression is replaced with the seduction from earlier.
“Come.” He takes my hand and leads me up the sweeping stone steps.
“Where are we going?”
“Bed. You and I have unfinished business.” His husky voice, filled with molten desire, steals over me, sending thrills up and down my body.
I want to protest and tell him about the paper I have to write, but my traitorous body wants us to finish business, whatever meaning that holds for today.
My hand in his feels so good and the rest of my body yearns for his touch.
The guards standing by the doors open them for us, and we walk in.
But we don’t make it to the stairs because Viktor walks out of the living room with Gytha next to him.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Anastasia
At the sight of Viktor, my throat goes dry and panic rattles my brain.
Although Gytha is standing next to him, I don’t really see her.
All I see is him.
Him dressed in his usual attire which, minus the leather, isn’t that much different to Desmier’s style. Like Desmier, Viktor wears dark clothes, but he looks like my Viktor.
