Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Luka

WHAT REALLY catches my attention is the way she moves. Clumsy, uncoordinated, like a fawn taking her first steps. And yet, there is a certain grace to her movements, a raw sensuality that cannot be denied. She's wearing a tight black dress that hugs every curve of her body, accentuating her generous assets and slender waist. Her long, dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail that swings between her shoulder blades in a cascading fall.

I watch her as she makes her way around the room, her tray of drinks shaking in her hands. She doesn't seem to have much skill as a waitress, but there's something about her that I can't take my eyes off. Maybe it's the way she's trying so hard to do her job, even though she's clearly nervous. When she disappears from sight for several minutes, I scan the room, trying to pick her out of the crowd. I don't catch sight of her again until she's practically on top of me.

"Hey there," she says, her voice soft and sultry. My cock hardens as if she has her fucking hand in my pants, but I keep my expression neutral.

"Whiskey?" she asked.

I nod, taking the shot she offers me. I can feel the burn of the alcohol as it goes down my throat, but my eyes remain fixed on hers. She's young, maybe early twenties, and there's something about the way she looks at me, something vulnerable and watchful. It makes me want to sweep her up and carry her out of here. But it's not just an urge to keep her safe from the vultures circling in this place; if I had her to myself, that tight-as-fuck dress would be history in under a minute.

As our eyes meet, I'm lost in a sea-green ocean. And when the tip of her tongue sweeps across plump crimson lips, I know there's no way this woman is leaving here before I've had her. I break the heated stare and take in flawless skin, high cheekbones, and a sweep of elegant throat that's begging me to graze my teeth along it. I look back into those beautiful eyes, knowing it's unnerving her.

Fuck, she's gorgeous.

She blinks, breaking our gaze, and then abruptly turns her back to walk away. I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling her towards me. Her eyes widen in surprise, but I can see the spark of attraction there, too. Eyes still on her, I reach for another drink from her tray, and she suddenly stumbles. The contents of her tray slosh forward, and before I know it, she's flung the whole thing at my chest.

Blyad!

Icy liquid seeps through the fabric of my suit, and I curse under my breath. She looks horrified, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. It's such a ridiculous situation that I bark out a laugh.

"Careful, krasotka," I chuckle once I've regained my composure.

"Oh, my God… Oh, my God! I-I'm so, so sorry!" she gasps.

"You aren't very good at your job, are you?" I smirk at her.

She straightens up and shoots me a glare. "Oh, and you're the expert server?" she retorts. "Let go of me." She tries to yank her hand away, and I pull her closer until she's pressed against me.

Interesting…

If anything, her resistance makes me want her more. I feel my blood heat, and by now, my cock feels like it's ready to burst past the confines of my pants. It's been too fucking long since I had a woman beneath me. And this one is nothing like the fawning fools who've been throwing themselves at me all night.

No, this one has fire in her veins.

I allow her to struggle for a moment, enjoying the feel of her body against mine. She's a fighter, and I fucking love that. I slide an arm around her waist, my hand finding the small of her back as I lean in close and inhale a deep breath of her lush floral scent.

"Do you always grab random waitresses at parties?" Her eyes flashing with anger. But even as she speaks, I can see her pupils dilate. Her breathing has quickened. With one hand still holding onto hers, I use the other to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face, my fingers trailing down the curve of her jaw. She shivers but doesn't pull away.

"Only the clumsy ones who spill their drinks on me."

"I'm sorry, okay? But maybe if you weren't so busy grabbing women, you'd be more aware of your surroundings."

For a second, I can't believe what she just said, but then a slow smile creeps across my face. That fire makes me want to push her buttons and see what makes her tick.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice low and dangerous. "And here I thought I was being charming."

She rolls her eyes and gives a little snort. "If charming means acting like a caveman, then sure."

I choke out another laugh. Jesus, she's fucking irresistible.

"I prefer to think of it as being assertive," I say, locking eyes with hers. "I know what I want, and I go after it." The message is unmistakable, and with any other woman in this room, I know I'd be dragged to a bedroom before I'd spoken the words. But this one… This one is going to fight me.

She raises an eyebrow, her expression scornful. "And what exactly do you want?"

I step closer to her, my body buzzing with anticipation as I lean down and murmur into her ear, "Right now? I want you."

Her eyes widen in shock, and then she shakes her head, a look of disbelief on her face. "You- You arrogant bastard! I don't even know who you are."

That takes me by surprise. Everyone in this damn room knows who I am. Fuck, everyone in this whole city is terrified of the reputation I've built here. And yet she has no idea? This just keeps getting better and better.

I grin at her. "I'm Luka, and you're the clumsy waitress who just ruined my suit."

She rolls her eyes again. "Well, I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing, Luka." She drags my name out as if it's an insult. If I have my way, she's going to be screaming it as she comes by the end of the night. I lean in closer, my lips almost brushing against hers.

"Oh, I think you are," I say, my voice a low growl. I can see the flicker of attraction in her eyes, the way a hint of a flush colors her cheeks. But something else is there, too, lurking just beneath the surface. Fear, maybe? It's gone as quickly as it appears, but I catch it. Her brows pull together, and then her eyes widen a fraction. It's an odd reaction, one that piques my curiosity.

"What's your name?" I ask her, still holding her wrist. I take a step closer.

"It's Sophi-a…rgh!" she stumbles over her words, rolling her eyes. "Fine, it's just Sophia. My name is Sophia. Now you know. Let me go," she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger.

"Sophia," I repeat, savoring the name on my tongue. "It suits you, and it has a nice ring to it. Especially when you add that little groan at the end."

"You… I… Ugh!" She stamps her foot. "You're still arrogant," she huffs, though she's looking less fired up now somehow.

I pull her closer and feel her shudder. It's like pouring fuel on the fire in my gut. There's something about Sophia's impudent nature that makes me want to take her right here and now. Probably because as much as she's putting up a fight, she wants me as much as I want her.

"Sophia," I murmur, my voice low and silken. "I can't wait to hear how you groan when you're naked in my bed." I tighten my grip on her wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to let her know who's in control. It is my party, after all, and I will have whoever I want. That includes her.

To my surprise, she coughs out a laugh. "I can't decide if you're charming or just full of yourself."

Our faces are almost touching now. "Maybe a little of both. And you like it."

Her breath hitches, and I can see the desire in her eyes. "You don't know what I like."

I grin, enjoying this flirtatious banter. It's so refreshing after the easy pickings that have been on show all night. Dimitri's hot blonde turned out to be a vacant-eyed bimbo. I like this challenge much better.

"Oh, but I think I know exactly what you like," I tell her. "You like the danger, the excitement. The things that are forbidden."

She bites her lip, and I can tell she's considering my words. "And what makes you think you're that exciting?"

I lean back, a sly grin on my face. "Trust me, krasotka, I'm the most exciting thing you'll ever experience."

She laughs again, but there's a nervous little edge to it now. "You're full of shit, you know that?" When she tugs at her wrist again, I allow her to pull free…but only because it amuses me. "So, is there anything else you need, or can I go do my work now?" she asks.

"Your work is right here. You just spilled whiskey all over me." For a moment, we stand there, sizing each other up.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Let me get you a towel, your highness," she says sarcastically.

"I don't need a towel. I need you to clean me up."

She raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I'm telling you to clean up the mess you made," I say, my voice low and commanding.

"You're kidding me, right?" She glares at me.

I shake my head, not breaking eye contact. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"I can't believe this," she mutters, but reluctantly unties the crisp little white apron around her waist and begins dabbing at the whiskey on my shirt. As she does, I notice how good she smells, like a mix of vanilla and jasmine. I watch her as her eyes fixate on my expensive suit, as if she can't look at my face while she's touching my body. Her hand trembles slightly as she rubs at the fabric, and I can feel the heat rising in my body.

"There," she says eventually. Her voice is hoarse, and she's still not meeting my eye. "All done."

I shake my head and unbutton my jacket. "What about my shirt?" I taunt her.

Green eyes flash to mine for a second, and she gnaws on her bottom lip. I wait for more of that sexy sass she's been so liberal with, but this time, there's none of it. Reaching out, her hand lingers on my chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath the fabric. If my cock had been hard before, it feels ready to explode by now.

Uspokoysya, durak!

I have to calm down before I make a fucking fool of myself. I can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desire that lingers between us. I pull her closer once more, feeling her hot breath on my skin. She splays her palms on my chest, all pretense of cleaning my shirt now abandoned.

"You are coming with me to my room," I command, my voice giving no margin for argument.

"Are you always this bossy?" she husks out.

I use a fingertip to tilt her chin up until she's looking up into my face, so close that our lips are almost touching. With my other hand, I trace a fingertip down her throat, feeling her swallow hard as I do so.

"Only with people who touch me like you do, krasotka."