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A hard knock sounded at the door, followed by Igor's deep voice. “Grace… are you, …”
he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with showing concern. “Are you all right?”
“Go away! I don’t need your pity,” I yelled and sucked my teeth as I trailed a finger lightly over the nasty bruise.
“I don’t like asking twice,” he bellowed.
“I said, go away!”
Sudden silence fell in the bathroom, right before the handle on the door went down. I pressed my back against it, pushing all my weight to stop him from getting inside.
“Get away from the fucking door,” he growled against the door and pressed down on the handle. “I'm coming in.”
“No, you're not,” I argued through gritted teeth. The bruise stung and my leg throbbed, but I was not giving up.
“Yes,” he barked, “I am.”
With that, he pushed me with all his might and sent me sprawling backward. For a second, I wondered how I thought I would be able to stop him from coming in. My strength was nothing compared to his.
He closed the door and his eyes wandered over my body. When they landed on my thighs, they grew wide, his eyebrows drew together, and he ran his hand through his thick hair in distress. It was the first time I saw the most shocked expression on his face.
“Jesus, what's that?” he asked and came closer.
I took a step back and bumped my hip against the bathroom counter. I was pinned between him and the cold marble. My heart jackhammered behind my ribs and my breathing was sporadic. Heat raced down me like an ignited fuse and my stomach somersaulted, being so close to him turned my brain into a tangled mess.
His handsome face had also taken quite a beating. There was a small tear under his left eye and his cheek was slightly swollen. But none of these blemishes detracted from his drooling, masculine appearance; on the contrary, they made him even sexier.
“It's nothing,” I said, turning away to distract my thoughts.
His hand rose to my jaw, and I turned my head to face him. “I don't care if he’s your brother, I'm going to kill him,” he snarled menacingly.
“Pfft, then kill him. I don’t give a shit about him,” I scoffed, feeling extremely uncomfortable as I stood there clad only in a T-shirt and a pair of see-through panties that barely covered my butt cheeks. “It's your fault anyway. You grabbed me and threw me to the side.”
His eyes darkened as he stepped in closer, placing his hands on either side of the counter caging me between them. I gulped, my gaze traveling to his lips and back to his face.
“I was trying to save you.”
“Yeah, by pushing me to my death.”
“Don’t exaggerate. It was a mild shove.”
“And yet there's a huge blood clot on my thigh,” I snapped, although I could feel my resolve slowly fading.
He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and lowered his head until there was merely an inch between our faces, and I felt his warm breath. “What did you want me to do, toss you in slow motion?”
“Would that have been such a bad thing?”
“Why are you so impossible?”
“Why are you so annoying?”
“And why do you drive me so fucking crazy all the time?” he lashed out.
We were both breathing heavily, panting as if we had just come from a jog. I stared at him and his eyes bored deep into mine.
He cupped my cheeks and pressed a thumb against my lips, tugging at it gently to expose my teeth. “You push me over the edge, every fucking time,” he said, gazing at my lips like a delicious meal he couldn't wait to eat.
A ferocious need consumed me at the thought. I wanted him to kiss me. It was a wild, unexpected, and untamed desire that reared its head.
