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“You are so fucking beautiful, Miss Fedorov,” I whispered against her ear as she closed her eyes and settled into my touch.
Why was she relaxing into me?
Was she trying to intimidate me by making me believe she desired me?
For fuck’s sake, this woman would be the death of me.
“You’re giving me whiplash, Ricci.”
“Because you’re driving me fucking insane. Do you know what it's like to want someone yet hate them at the same time?”
“No, because I don’t want you. I hate you.” She smirked.
"You need to stop bullshitting, Anastacia," I said calmly. "You want me to fuck you until you can't take it anymore, until you beg me to stop," I whisperedas I kissed her neck in the exact place I had marked it in the car yesterday.
"I told you the first night we met that I don't beg. I've had a gun to my head and refused to surrender and beg for my life. So, what makes you think I'll beg you to fuckme?” she whispered quietly.
“Who the fuck held a gun to your head?!” I growled against her skin.
“Why do you care?” she demanded.
“Because I want to put him six feet under for touching what’s mine,” I murmured.
"I already took care of that. I've never needed a man before, and I certainlydon't need one now," she said as she pressedher tight ass into my hardening cock, which made it clear how badly I wanted to fuck her. “Does the thought of me killing someone turn you on, Ricci?” she asked as I tightened my grip on her ponytail.
“What do you think?”
"You'll have to take that dick somewhere else because it's not going anywhere near me." She laughed as she twisted out of my grasp, her leg swiping at mine, and before I knew it, I was on my ass with her standing over me, a beaming smile on her face. "Do you need a hand?”
I couldn't help but look up at her, dumbfounded. Had she playedme? Had she been this strong all along, leading me to believe she would be easy to break and mould?
How wrong was I?
“Have a good day, fiancé.” She smirked as she sauntered towards the house, her hips swaying in sync with her ponytail.
I knew I was in fucking trouble the night we met.
But I never imagined it would be like this.
I refused to fall for Anastacia Fedorov.
Not now.
Not ever.
Not even when she’d share my last name.
I returnedto my bedroom after leaving Lorenzo in the garden on his ass. The scorching water wasa welcoming reprieve on my aching body. His words replayed like a broken record in my head.
I stepped out of the shower and onto the heated bathroom tiles. I grabbeda fluffy white towel from the side and wrapped it around my body.
I leaned against the bathroom counter for a moment gathering my thoughts. I honestly didn’t know how I would keep up with this stupid game of cat and mouse between us both. I couldn’t deny I enjoyed keeping him on his toes, but his attitude was vile. Nobody had ever spoken to me the way he had; I could have slit his throat last night and let him bleed out, but something stopped me. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.
Once I entered the bedroom, I walked past the window when I spotted Lorenzo talking with Emmet on the lawn. Emmet’s back was to me while Lorenzo spotted me almost instantly, his eyes narrowing with what could have been anger, hatred, or desire. I leant across the seat that sat beneath the bay window as some of the scatter cushions tumbled to the floor. I pulled the top window shut as his eyes never left my towel-clad body. Lorenzo may have been listening intently to Emmet, but I knew a part of him was distracted just as I was.
My phone jumped into action over on the mirrored nightstand, the name of someone I knew all too well flashing up on the screen.
Chad.
