How could she not be curious? I didn’t even like him and still wanted to know everything about him. In truth, I was nosy beyond belief. I’d never be happy with a superficial relationship with him—the only thing I was sure he was capable of. We’d never work. But, for some reason, hearing that out in the open made me slightly uneasy.

She snapped her compact closed. “We will marry, and you won’t get in the way.”

“I don’t have any designs on him.”

“Good.” She headed to leave.

There was something on my mind I hadn’t been able to get rid of.

“Kak moya,” I said, smoothing the gloss on my lips and watching her in the mirror. “What does it mean?”

She stopped at the door, assessing me with a look.

“It means, like mine.”

DROPPING MY PURSE ON THE kitchen island, I kicked off my heels and stretched out my toes, wincing at the ache in my feet. I’d had too much on my mind to stay at the club, and while Van’s attentions weren’t unwelcome, I couldn’t find much interest after my conversation with Aleksandra.

I was glad to find Magdalena and her date had vacated my apartment, though I could see they’d enjoyed one of my expensive bottles of wine. Finding some left, I poured the remainder in a glass and leaned against the counter, taking a sip.

A heavy knock sounded at the door.

I sighed.

I’d been waiting for a visit from Luca—or, more likely, a check-in—now that I was a single woman. He was probably here to remind me about how not to go to jail. It’d been three years since my last felony offense—you would think they’d trust me now.

I finished off my wine and went to open the door.

My heart dropped to my toes.

Christian stood in the hall, his gaze lowered. He’d removed his jacket but otherwise wore his gray tie, pants, and white dress shirt he’d had at the club. When his eyes came up to me, I realized they were clouded with something dark and terrifying.

My pulse leapt.

On mere instinct, I tried to shut the door on him, but he kept it open with a hand. I took a step back as he entered my apartment. He shut the door, his eyes hot enough to set my skin on fire.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

I shook my head.

He followed me as I walked backward, his tone demanding a response. “Tell me why.”

“You like me,” I breathed.

“Like?” His gaze flashed with something sardonic. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

I swallowed. “You like me . . . like me.”

I didn’t know how I could have been so stupid for so long—maybe I was in denial—but it was all clear to me now. He might hate himself for it, but Christian Allister was still into me. Really into me. Enough to kiss me. Enough to think I tasted like his.

My back hit the living room wall.

“Does that scare you?” A whisper of darkness laced through his voice as he stalked toward me.

I couldn’t focus—not with how hot my body was and how uncertain this revelation made me.

I nodded.

“Good.” He pressed his hands against the wall on either side of me. “It should.” The rasp of his voice sent the hair on my arms on end, and I sucked in a breath as his lips skimmed up my neck. “I’ve always thought about you.” He pressed his next words against my ear. “More than your date tonight could ever think about you.”

I shivered.

“I’ve thought about you so much you’re mine now.” It was a growl that lowered into a threat. “You’re lucky you didn’t let him touch you, Gianna, because I really don’t like it when people touch my things.”

I swallowed. “Who touches me is none of your business.”

“It’s always been my business.”

As twisted and a bit degrading as his words were, something about them was burning me up from the inside. He was so close, and he smelled so good, his body heat warming my skin. My heartbeat dipped between my legs, and I was suddenly looking through a hazy film of desire. I dropped my head against the wall, drawing half-lidded eyes up to his.

“Why do you kiss me?”

My lips parted as he ran a thumb across the seam.

“It shuts you up.”

That wasn’t what he’d planned to say two days ago at the cemetery, but I was suddenly glad he’d evaded the question. Just his gaze was too much, let alone the things he was admitting to me.

I remained still, my breathing erratic, as his hands slid down my waist, my hips, skimming the outsides of my thighs. The caress was slow, reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the curves of my body. Heat bloomed beneath my skin, tightening in my breasts and burning a lower path.

“You have a girlfriend,” I breathed.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

His possessive gaze watched mine, almost daring me to stop him, as he eased the dress up my thighs, baring the lacy fabric between my legs. My body shivered in anticipation.

He pressed two fingers against my lips.

“Suck.”

Oh, God.

Any sense I had left drowned in a pool of lust.

I didn’t hesitate to draw his fingers into my mouth. His gaze darkened when I scraped them with teeth as he pulled them back out.

When he dipped his hand beneath the fabric between my thighs and roughly pushed those fingers inside me, a strangled sound escaped me, and I clutched his waist for something to hold onto. The beginning of an orgasm already stoked a fire inside me.

“You blushed for him,” he growled. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Gianna. You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

I was too far gone to care what he said at this point. A flush warmed my body as I writhed, panted, moaned, under his touch. Each time he slid his fingers in and out of me, it was slower, easier, like the anger was draining out of him. And then he rubbed against a spot that made me see spots.

His lips skimmed against mine.

“Who makes you come, malyshka?”

“You,” I moaned.

A noise of satisfaction rumbled in his chest, and then his fingers were gone. He lifted me by the waist and carried me a few steps. A gasp escaped me when he dropped me in a rough motion on the kitchen island, after sweeping everything off the surface. Glass shattered. Silverware clanged. Papers flew.

He ripped my thong down my legs, and, with shaky hands, I worked on his belt buckle. Reaching beneath his waistband, I took him in my hand. So hot and hard. I was fascinated with him, dying to explore him further. Though, once again, I didn’t get the chance. His fingers dug into my inner thighs as he spread my legs, and then he pushed inside me in one deep thrust.

I choked.

He hissed, his eyes on where we were connected.

“Slow. God, slow,” I begged, clutching at his arms.

I still wasn’t used to his size, but even more so, something about having sex with this man was so intense I thought I would lose myself completely or do something ridiculous like cry if I didn’t feel I had a semblance of control over it.

He stilled, and then we were both shaking as he eased out and then back inside. Pleasure burned through my veins. I moaned. Ran my fingers up his chest and held onto his shoulders as he fucked me slowly on the edge of the counter.