Chapter 11

He’s leaving.

Of course he is.

I shouldn’t be surprised. He got exactly what he wanted: in my pants.

And now, he’ll walk out.

“All right.” I throw the blanket off and climb out of bed. I grab a t-shirt from the dresser and shove it over my head before snatching my leggings from the foot of the bed.

“I’ll be back tonight, when I’m done.” He works his boxers over his hips. Even in a pair of soft gray boxer briefs the man looks like a sex god. I could have skipped the washer at the laundromat and just used his abs to wash my clothes.

“Uh. No.” I avert my gaze from his perfect form. It’s impossible to think straight with all those muscles, tattoos, and that devious grin of his perched so arrogantly on his full, kissable lips.

“No?”

“That’s right. No. I’m going to go to bed early tonight. I have an early client tomorrow.” I find a pair of slippers and shove my feet in them.

He works his thick leather belt back through the buckle while looking up at me from behind hooded eyelids.

“I’ll stay here tonight, and then in the morning, I’ll drive you. It’ll be cold and still dark that early in the morning. I don’t want you taking the bus.”

“I’ve taken the bus to work for the last two years. I can handle myself fine.”

“You didn’t have me before, now you do.” He tucks his shirt in the back, then picks up his gun, that I had no idea he’d had with him, from the top of the dresser and tucks it away before coming to stand toe to toe with me.

“You can’t sleep over, Viktor.” I glance at the bed. “Just no.” Staying a little while longer after the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me is one thing. But him spending the night is something entirely different. A sleepover implies more than a one-off. I’ll never get him to accept boundaries if we’re sharing covers already.

He pauses a long beat. “All right. But I’ll be here at six-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.” By six-thirty I’ll be halfway to work.

“You understand what happens if I get here and you’re not, yes?” He reaches behind me and grabs my ass, squeezing just enough for the tenderness from earlier to register in my mind.

“Yeah. I get it. Big man, big belt.” I use my best Neanderthal voice. He doesn’t look humored, though. “I understand, Viktor.”

“Good.” He pats my ass like I’m a good girl for not fighting him.

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you out to dinner. The best place in the city,” he promises as he makes his way through the kitchen to the front door where his boots are waiting for him.

“Oh, I don’t think I can make it. I have something.” I fold my arms over my stomach and lean my shoulder against the wall, away from where he’s tying his boots.

“What do you have?” His frown deepens.

“Just something.” I lift a shoulder. “A meeting. Like you.” I gesture to him with a small smile.

“What sort of meeting?” He grabs his leather coat from the closet.

“The sort you don’t need to be at.” I grin. He’s getting irritated. I’m not going to lie; I like this frustrated look on him.

“Marlena.” One word and he makes it sound like a full-on threat. Don’t argue with him or else. And I better not be lying to him. All that, with just my name.

“Viktor. I was clear earlier, wasn’t I? I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

He nods. “Good. I have no intention of being your boyfriend.” He says the word like it’s an insult.

Something inside my chest deflates.

He finishes putting on his leather jacket and grabs me, pulling me to him.

“I made myself clear, too, didn’t I?” He brushes his knuckles across my cheek, sliding his hand beneath my hair and fisting it until he can pull my head back. “We aren’t dating. This thing with us. Dating is what you do when you aren’t sure. When you’re playing around.” He brushes his lips across mine. “No. I’m not your boyfriend and you aren’t my girlfriend.”

He presses his mouth to mine, and his body pushes me flat against the wall.

His tongue slides between my parted lips. As soon as the tip touches my tongue, he groans. I can feel every bit of his hard cock pressing against me. He moves his grip from my hair to my chin before breaking off the kiss and letting his dark stare bore down into me.

A shiver of need runs down my body, straight to my toes that are curled inside my slippers.

“You aren’t my girlfriend, moy sladkiy voin,” he repeats himself, his voice low and raw. “You are mine. Period.”

I swallow. “But?—”

I’m cut off with another kiss, then another, as he holds me hostage against the wall. Thoughts swirl in my mind, melding into one big puddle of nothing by the time he releases me.

I touch my lips, certain they’re swollen and bruised from his passionate kisses. He winks.

The arrogance is astounding.

“Tomorrow.” He touches the tip of my nose.

I’m stuck against the wall, even after he walks out.

“Lock the door, Marlena,” he calls from the hallway.

I grit my teeth. Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off and leave it unlocked.

But the reasonable part, the adult part of my brain reaches over and bolts the door.

“Good girl.” His voice vibrates through the door.

Since he can’t see me, and since I already used up my adult energy, I stick my tongue out at the door.

He’s not going to think I’m such a good girl tomorrow.

His.

He thinks he can just claim me like that?

Like I’m just a thing he can pick up and put in his pocket?

Fuck that.

I wasn’t kidding. I don’t want to be his or anyone else’s.

That little twinge in my chest? I’m going to ignore it.

I have things to do.

Forgetting all about Viktor Petrov is the first one on my list.