Page 29

I ran a shaky hand through my hair, tucking stray strands behind my ear, and swiped on glossy lip balm, each move deliberate, like I was prepping for a secret ritual. My heart was pounding, counting down the seconds.

Twenty minutes felt like forever. Then—footsteps. Steady, deliberate, echoing down the hall, each one hitting like a drumbeat on my racing heart.

He was here.

My body tensed, hands twisting together, knuckles white, palms slick with sweat. The door swung open silently, and there he was, filling the frame. Gennady Sokolov.

He had ditched the coat, his deep gray shirt tailored to perfection, top buttons undone, showing off that damn sexy Adam's apple. His black cashmere overcoat was slung over one arm, making his broad shoulders and long legs look even more dangerous. The dim hallway light carved shadows across his sharp jaw, and those emerald eyes locked onto me, dark, hungry, like a wolf spotting its prey.

"I'm here, Cassie," he said, his voice low and gravelly, each syllable hitting my eardrums like a shockwave, making my skin tingle.

"You actually came," I said, my voice shaky with excitement and nerves, my feet moving toward him without my say-so.

"Didn't you invite me, ??? ????????"

He shut the door, the soft click cutting us off from the world. He stepped closer, slow and graceful, like a panther stalking its kill. Each move cranked my pulse higher.

"I—" My throat tightened, but I forced myself to meet those soul-devouring green eyes, my voice trembling but raw. "I wanted to see you."

"Just see me?" His fingers slid down, lifting my chin with a firm, commanding grip, forcing our gazes to lock. His eyes swirled with something dark, magnetic. "Or," he said, his voice dropping to a husky growl, "do you want more?"

The previous night crashed over me—his scorching lips, his burning hands, the storm of sensation he had unleashed. My body betrayed me, trembling not from fear but from a deep, aching hunger.

My heart was pounding, but I held his gaze, letting the truth spill. "More."

A cruel, satisfied glint flashed in his eyes. In a heartbeat, he yanked me into his iron-hard embrace, my gasp swallowed as his lips crashed into mine. That kiss wasn't gentle—it was raw, possessive, his tongue prying me open, plundering with relentless hunger. I was drowning, my arms wrapping around his neck, surrendering to the chaos.

"Fuck," he growled against my lips, his hot breath searing my skin. "I've been thinking about you all day—your taste, the way you shake under my hands, the way you come alive for me."

His words were gasoline, igniting the fire inside me. My legs went weak, heat pooling low as I felt him, hard and hot against me through our clothes. It was driving me insane.

"I've been thinking about you too," I gasped, my voice breaking with need. "Your hands, everything you did to me." Shame was gone, burned away by raw desire.

He let out a low, primal growl and slammed me against the cold classroom wall. The icy surface clashed with his blazing body, trapping me. His muscles pressed into me, every heartbeat, every line of him searing through my clothes, lighting up my skin.

"You know what you're doing to me?" he rasped, his voice rough, eyes blazing with a fire that could burn the world down. "You've got me acting like some horny kid, can't think, can't focus, just wanna make you mine."

His hands roamed, hot and commanding, sliding up my waist, grazing my ribs, settling on my chest. His rough fingers found my nipple through my sweater, pinching just hard enough to make me shudder, a moan slipping out before I could stop it.

"Gennady," I whimpered, my voice raw, desperate, clinging to him like he was my anchor.

"Tell me, Cassie," he murmured, lips brushing my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. His hand slid up my thigh, pushing my skirt higher, cool air hitting my heated skin. "What do you want?" His voice was a devil's whisper, pure temptation. "Say it."

Reason was gone, obliterated by the screaming need inside me. "I want you!" I choked out, pressing closer, desperate for more. "Gennady, touch me like last night. Now."

He chuckled, dark and teasing, his hand finding the damp fabric between my thighs, pressing with perfect precision. "Here?" he asked, his voice a wicked caress as his fingers moved, deliberate and firm. "This is what you want?"

A jolt of pleasure ripped through me, my body arching, a broken gasp escaping. I nodded frantically, eyes unfocused,lost in the sensation. The school, the consequences—none of it mattered. Only him, only this.

His fingers worked with rhythmic precision, pressing, circling, each move pushing me closer to the edge. My breaths were short, frantic, my body moving with him, chasing the high. Moans spilled out, unstoppable, shame drowned by desire.

"So sensitive, Rose," he whispered, lips grazing my earlobe, his breath like fire. "Even through your clothes, I can feel you burning for me, melting for me."

His words pushed me higher, pleasure building like a tidal wave. My body was taut, every nerve focused on his touch, teetering on the brink of release.

Then—his phone. A sharp, jarring ring cut through the heat.

"Don't—ignore it," I begged, my voice desperate, still trembling on the edge, aching for release.