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The moment we’re alone in the backseat of the car, Maxim spins on me. “What the fuck were you thinking being alone with the mayor? I warned you, Kira. I warned you. That man is a predator! You could have been… Fuck!”
Hot, indignant tears threaten at the corners of my eyes, but I hold them back, refusing to give Maxim the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he affects me. Part of my fury is directed at my own recklessness for putting myself at risk, and the rest is aimed squarely at Maxim for ... everything. Every damn thing. He's the source of my misery and the one who sends my stomach into knots—it's completely unfair.
“I know you think I’m useless, but I can and will defend myself. And don’t bother pretending you give a shit about me because you obviously don’t.” Beneath my defiant words, an unvoiced thought creeps in—he does care, he must, even a little. Not that I want him to. He killed my aunt, for fuck’s sake.
Fury radiates from Maxim like a blazing inferno. He clutches his phone so tightly that his knuckles turn white, threatening to crack the screen. “You don’t get it…” he hisses. It's like watching a man at war with himself, torn between anger and frustration. “When did I ever say you’re useless? When did I ever… Jesus.”
With a sudden movement, Maxim pivots, facing the window. His shoulders are taut, tension radiating from his body. When he spins back towards me, his face is a mask of raw need. Before I can react, he pushes me down on my back, his bigger body crowding above me. Surprise jolts through me in a rush that leaves me breathless.
"You are mine. My wife.” His nose skims down my neck slowly, and he inhales deeply, his voice a low, commanding murmur. "It doesn’t matter if you want my protection or not. I will protect you at all costs."
Goosebumps prickle along my skin as his warm breath brushes my neck. I can’t deny the thrill of being his, even when I want to resist.
His mouth crashes down on mine. It’s hot and passionate, and sends my brain cells into a tailspin. His tongue breaches the seam of my lips, plundering and claiming me for his own.
The wild dance of my heart betrays my excitement, especially with Maxim so close because his very proximity is like a magnetic force, drawing me in despite my better judgment. I know I should throw him off me, tell him to go to hell, but the traitor inside me, the one that hasn’t listened to reason all night, grasps Maxim by his lapels and pulls him even closer, matching each swipe of his tongue with my own.
His lips are softer than I imagined they would be, although there’s nothing gentle about how he kisses. It’s raw, untethered, as if trying to lay claim to every inch of my body, asserting his dominance.
I melt. Literally melt, because I’ve never been kissed like this. It feels like he would die if he didn’t taste me.
He groans and presses his very pronounced hard-on against me. My God, he’s big and he’s rock-hard. This realization charges through me, sending a tingling thrill to my core and a warm dampness between my legs. Arousal washes over me, quickening my pulse as I rock my hips against his erection. He emits a deep, guttural grunt, and the sound of his labored breath is intoxicating.
Everything about this is wrong, but there’s no chance in hell I’m willing to come back to earth. I’m beyond thought right now. Floating on a cloud of pure need, a need that is Maxim deep between my thighs.
Maybe he shares the same sentiment because he grabs both of my ass cheeks and thrusts up into my core once, twice, and then … he tears himself away from me, scooting to the other side of the car like he’s touched a live wire. My heart sinks with disappointment. Why did he stop? Was this all a game to him?
Breathing heavily, he runs a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding mine.
My cheeks flush with heat as I slowly sit up and straighten my dress, trying to gather my self-respect off the floor. What the hell is wrong with me?
I drag the back of my hand over my lips, wiping any trace of Maxim on my skin as embarrassment steals up my throat.
Tonight was a disaster.
I learned nothing about my aunt’s death.
I was nearly assaulted. No, forget that—Iwasassaulted.
And that kiss…
Christ.
Anger boils over into defiance, and before I can stop myself, my fist meets his chest. “I’m not yours, Maxim. I don’t care what you say. There’s nothing between us but a marriage contract.”
His jaw ticks, but he continues to stare out the window, ignoring me, which only makes my blood hotter.
Words I hadn’t planned on saying tumble from my lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew my father? That you had history together. Was that not information you thought I had a right to know?”
This gets his attention. His surprised gaze meets my own. “Of course I knew your father! Half of Moscow knew the mudak in some way or another. He was heir to one of the most powerful bratvas in the city.”
“You didn’t just know him—he discovered you,” I shoot back, my voice heavy with accusation. “He took you from underground fighting rings and introduced you to the underworld. How could you not think to tell me?!”
Dark fury crosses his face. “Oleg Antonov didn’t fucking discover me. He used me, like he used everyone. Including you, his own flesh and blood. The only difference is that I had the power to walk away from him. I saw what kind of aublyudokhe was, and I left him in my dust.”
His outburst catches me off guard, bitterness coating his every word.
So maybe he didn’t like my father if he’s calling him a bastard, but that doesn’t prove anything. My father may have had something over him; Maxim could have been in his debt. Anything’s possible. But deep down, I can't shake the weight of truth—Maxim doesn't bow to anyone.
