Fall(Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 2)(25)

“My problem?” Esther replied in a tone that confirmed she was hell-bent on arguing.

“I didn’t come here to get bitched at,” I said, my patience wearing dangerously thin.

“I haven’t even begun to bitch,” she said, eyes flashing as she dropped her hands to her sides, hands curving into a fist.

My patience snapped. She wanted to fight, and I wouldn’t disappoint. I slammed the water bottle on the counter, ignoring the splash that hit my arm and stalked toward her. She didn’t even flinch.

“Don’t test me, Esther,” I said, my voice low.

“Don’t test me either, Sorin,” she replied, taking a step closer to me, close enough that her body brushed mine.

Her eyes glittered with anger, and her nostrils flared slightly, head tilted in that way that told me she was ready for battle. Her stance had unexpectedly calmed my anger. Something was bothering her; I could see that much, and I had a sneaking suspicion I knew why. But I wanted to confirm.

“Why are we fighting, Esther?”

“Why? Could it have something to do with the fact that you just showed up uninvited and barged in like you own this place without even bothering to ask permission?”

As I’d suspected, Esther thought I was using her. I moved even closer, leaned forward to close the few inches distance between us until my lips almost brushed her. “Esther, may I come in?” I whispered as sweetly as I could.

“No,” she said, her face set in a pout that would have annoyed me were it on someone else’s face but was almost painfully adorable on her, made even more so by the fact that I knew she was being so pissy because she thought I was using her. And maybe I was, but it didn’t feel like it and for some reason, I didn’t want her to think I was.

“Okay. I’ll leave as soon as I’m finished,” I said.

“You drank most of your water, and I’m not giving you more,” she said, still pouting.

I gripped her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted her head until her lips brushed mine. “I wasn’t talking about water,” I said.

Her eyes flashed with desire, but she quickly shrouded it, returning her expression to its stubborn, pouty set. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing it, moving my lips against hers until she finally softened and opened them on a soft breath.

I pulled back. “That’s better.”

“Sorin…” she said warily.

“What?” I said, but before she could respond, I kissed her again, this time swooping my tongue into her mouth as I gripped her hips.

The thin robe she was wearing had gaped open, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath so I took advantage, letting my hands trace the curves of her body, up to cup her full breasts, down to bury a finger between her thighs.

I broke the kiss again, kept my eyes on hers as I grazed my fingers against her soft skin.

“You still want me to leave?” I whispered against her ear.

Her soft sigh of acceptance was answer enough.





* * *



Esther



The instant I woke, I knew he was still there. It wasn’t his soft breaths, his hard, hot body against mine that alerted me. Those alone I could have accepted, handled, but the reason I knew was the complete calm and contentment that I felt left me unbalanced.

That I’d wanted him, needed him, so badly yesterday had sparked the anger I’d shown, and that I’d so easily given in sparked the fear. Where I’d been striving for distance, he’d pushed even closer, and now I had definitive proof, not that more was needed, that I couldn’t resist him.

I pulled away, tried to rise from the bed, but was stopped by his heavy, hard arm around my waist.

“Say good morning, Esther,” his whispered, his husky, sleep-roughed voice doing those things it always did.

“Good morning, Esther,” I said, though I didn’t miss the tremor in my voice.

He laughed, the sound rough, throaty, easy like honey. I realized then that it wasn’t surprising. That Sorin, like me, was prone to laughter, not something I would have expected.

And that awareness warmed me, made me want to lose myself in him again. And if the hardness that prodded at my backside was any indication, he felt the same.

I wanted him, and his arm around me, the steady thud of his heart at my back, his stubbled cheek against my shoulder almost made me give in.

But I didn’t, and instead pulled away, ignoring the slight sting of disappointment when he released me. I fled to the bathroom as fast as I could, pretending I didn’t feel his gaze on me with every step.

When I returned, clothed and feeling more ready to face him, he was dressed, and though I told myself I wanted that, that I needed less of him and not more, it irked me. The feeling only intensified when he smirked at me, and I was seized by the need to smack him and then mount him and ride him until I was exhausted.