Page 70 of Anton

Hooking my fingers beneath her chin, I tilt her face toward mine. Tears cling to her lashes, but she refuses to look away. Instead, her hands drift to my waistband, gentler now as she unfastens the button and lowers the zipper. She eases my pants and boxers over my hips until I step out of them.

A growl leaves me as I lock an arm around her waist and haul her against me, her bare skin pressed to mine while my cock throbs against her stomach. The longer I touch her, the more desperate the need becomes, and those brown eyes remain fixed on me, seeing through every lie I’ve tried to believe.

I spent days avoiding her, pretending I didn’t need this. Didn’t need her. But it was all bullshit.

My mouth travels along her throat while her nails scrape over my shoulders and rake down my back, leaving a sting I fucking love.

“Anton…”

The sound of my name on her lips strips away whatever sense I have left, because nothing has ever sounded that good.

I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her against the wall in one hard motion. She locks herself around me as I bury my face against her neck, trying to remember who I was before she came into my life.

Touching her only makes it worse. Each moment with her strips away another piece of the man I was taught to be until I barely recognize what’s left.

I draw back, and the way she looks at me says she wants everything I’ve never known how to give.

My fingers dig into her hips as I carry her toward the bedroom, her legs secured around my waist while her stare reaches past every defense I have. When we reach the bed, I lower her onto it and cover her body with mine. Her palms cradle my face, her fingertips tracing my features as though she’s memorizing someone she’s afraid to lose.

Maybe I’m doing the same. I can’t look away from her, half convinced she’ll disappear the instant I do. She feels like another gift destined to be taken from me, the way my father used to give us things long enough to make us care before punishing us for wanting them.

Attachment was weakness to him. Loyalty belonged to him and the family, even when it came to my brothers.

After my…accident, he took a particular interest in what I became. His weapon. His perfect killer. I felt nothing when I ended a life. I still don’t. That made me his favorite, but his favor always came at a price.

When her fingertips pass over a scar on my chest, I seize her hips and try to turn her onto her stomach. I need her hands somewhere else and her attention far from the parts of me I don’t know how to reveal.

But she grips my arm. “Don’t.” She searches my face, refusing to let me hide. “Don’t push me away.”

Then she lifts her head and presses her lips to the scar she touched.

My entire body goes rigid.

“Let me in,” she says softly before kissing another.

A ragged curse tears from me as my palm slides to the back of her head. My eyes fall shut while her mouth travels over every mark she can reach, offering tenderness to wounds that have never known anything but pain.

She kisses the scar near my ribs, then moves higher until her cheek rests over my heart. And the traitorous thing pounds harder for her.

When she draws back, my mother’s words return to me.

Do not be afraid of the light, moy malchik. Because she is yours.

I don’t know how to live in the light. Darkness is all I’ve ever known, and Thora is supposed to die there because of me before I return to the only life that has ever made sense.

Except now, the darkness no longer feels like home.

I capture her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her knuckles before following the delicate line of her wrist to her shoulder, then her neck. A soft sigh leaves her as her fingers close around my nape and draw me nearer, feeding the need consuming me.

My cock slides through her wetness as I roll my hips, tormenting us both. A broken moan spills from her while her nails rake down my back, leaving the only scars I would ever beg for.

She presses against my chest until I fall onto my back, then rises above me, staring down at me with a hunger in her eyes. I reach for her, trailing my knuckles along her jaw as she closes her fingers around my cock and guides the crown inside.

Her breath brushes my lips when she leans over me, near enough that I could kiss her right now. Then she sinks lower, taking more of me. The moment her cunt clenches around me, a guttural sound tears from my throat. I brace her nape and press my forehead to hers as I drive fully inside, drawing a sharp cry from her.

“Oh God, yes. Just like that.”

She rocks above me, riding my cock and taking whatever she wants while holding my stare, daring me to look anywhere else. My palm closes over her breast; the instant my thumb passes across her nipple, she arches with a broken gasp that makes me do it again. I slip my other hand between her thighs and stroke her clit in time with each roll of her hips. Her cunt grips me harder, dragging a rough grunt from my chest.