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“Aw. Are you going to miss me, Uncle Sasha?” I saunter closer and prop my hip against one of the rear car doors. “Is that why you’re soquiet?”
His gaze tracks down to my jean skirt, probably finding it too short to be decent. “Nyet.”
Hurt swamps my belly knowing he’s eager to get rid of me, but I don’t let him see it. Some days I think helikescaring for me. He does it so well. When my father checked out emotionally after my mother was killed, Sasha became the only constant in my life. He’s stayed that way for five years. Would a hardened man like Sasha do anything he didn’twantto do? I have no idea. Then again, this is part of the reason I’m going so far away from home for school, isn’t it? The confusing way Sasha makes mefeel?
My hormones officially went bananas right after I turned sixteen and walked in on Sasha in the shower. Through the water - speckled glass, I saw his naked, six - foot - eight frame covered in jet-black ink, water coasting down that handsome face — so frustratingly made of stone — splashing on his hard packs of ruthless muscle. He didn’t see me in the bathroom. No, he couldn’t have. Or he wouldn’t have continued stroking that huge, heavy trunk of flesh between his legs, muttering curses inRussian.
Sasha being none the wiser about my accidental peep show is the only reason I can still call him Uncle with a straight face. Because I’m pretty sure girls aren’t supposed to have sweaty fever dreams about their uncles. Even if they’re not actual blood relations. And even if the dreams are against a girl’swill.
Oh, who are you kidding? You beg your subconscious for thosedreams.
My nipples turn to spikes beneath my tank top just thinking about the last one. When I joined Sasha inside that foggy shower and he forced that hard part of himself between my lips, grunting my name and wrapping my hair in fists.Thrusting.
Have I been crazy thinking he could crave that — craveme— in real life? Sometimes IswearI sense torment and restraint in him, but he locks it down so fast I think I imagined it. Well, I’ve had quite enough of living in such close quarters with the man haunting my dreams and turning me into a walking, talking horn dog. It hurts. Physicallyandmentally. Not to mention, the second - guessing of my own sanity is starting to drive mecrazy.
Not that I’d let him knowthat.
Memories of Sasha’s rough hands tying my bathing suit strings yesterday makes my movements provocative as I sway closer to him, inserting myself between him and the trunk, letting my fingers walk up the center of his formidable chest. “You won’t miss me even a littlebit?”
Eyes flaring, he catches my wrist. “Do not play games with me,Anya.”
The breath catches in my lungs, heat rushing to my cheeks. Rushing toevery partof me. What if I never get another chance to figure out if I imagined the pull between us? I’m going to collegetoday. Even if he tells me I’m crazy and he could never be attracted to a girl he raised from such a young age — a girl he taught to drive, taught to throw a punch — I won’t have to see him every day while living with theknowledge.
The reality of not seeing him sends panic and pain slicing into my middle. And it’s the pain that knocks the words free of my mouth. “I’ve tried to play games,” I blurt out, thinking of all my silly attempts to tempt him. “You won’t play themback.”
Gray eyes narrow, and I sense a debate taking place. I’m so focused on watching him for a sign of what he’s thinking, I suck in a breath when he releases my wrist…and steps forward, pressing me back against the trunk. Traps me there. My neck is forced to crane to keep eye contact, and he looms, so massive and unmoving above me, but his dominance only makes my nerve endings go wilder. “Nothing about us, little angel, is a game. I will not miss you, because I never intend to leave you.” His hand slides beneath my skirt and cups my right cheek, kneading it, stealing the power from my knees. Making my mind reel. “This is mine. Now go put it in the passenger seat, before your father sees me defiling you from the window. It wouldn’t stop my plans, but it might delay us.” He slaps my backside, growling deep in his throat. “And you know I hate beinglate.”
I’m left with my mouth agape, staring into space as Sasha rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s side, starting theengine.
What in the world justhappened?
Chapter Two
Sasha
My Anya does notlikepuzzles.
She fidgets now in the passenger seat like a bird in its nest, unable to get comfortable. Which means I cannot settle, either, because her comfort is my calling. I do find the way she huffs and peeks over at me from beneath her eyelashes rather adorable, however, so I’ve decided to let it continue a little longer. She will have the information she seeks soonenough.
Revealing my intention to keep Anya was not part of my plan, but I’m a man at the end of his tether. My notorious patience is thinning with every mile I drive. Keeping myself restrained around this girl was never easy, but now that I can see light at the end of the tunnel, I find my desperation to claim Anya growing stronger by the second. To a level of hunger I never knew existed and doubt I’ll everextinguish.
Her palms travel down her bare thighs then back up. A nervous gesture, but that doesn’t stop it from hardening my dick. When I make her my wife, I will allow the skirts. But I will take her wearing these tiny creations as a signal she wants to be fucked until they’re soaked straight through with my cum. Then she can decide if she still wants to wear them inpublic.
If I want to make it to our destination, I must cease these thoughts, but I know from experience that it’s impossible. She is my obsession and has been such for longer than I would admit to a court of law. Quitting breathing would be easier than stopping my thoughts of her beneath me. Finally. Her virgin blood staining the sheets of ourbed.
Anya sits forward suddenly. “I didn’t pack my favorite pajamas. The long red shirt with thepocket— ”
“I packedit.”
“My copy ofAnne of GreenGables?”
A memory of her curled up beside me reading the book makes my throat feel funny. “Done.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “What about my spare pair of reading glasses? I always lose the first and I need a backup until Ifind— ”
“They’re in the bag with your…lotions.”
“Oh. Thank you, Sasha.” She goes back to rubbing those thighs. The ones that will be living around my waist very soon,but not soon enough for my sanity. “So, um. What did you mean back in the driveway? About never leaving me. Did you mean that…figuratively?”
