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Charlie gives her a deadly stare and snatches her hand off his arm, pushes her back a step. She stumbles to find her balance, so stunned by his dominant-aggressive behavior that she just gawps at him.
I'm not stunned. Men like him are often assholes.
I lead the way into the house with cool composure, through the luminous white kitchen.
“Look at that tight little ass...” that bloody guy is still going on. “Maksim-Markov really does have to give it up.”
“What'd you just say?” Charlie asks, and the kitchen pauses in silence.
I peer back on instinct. Charlie is glaring at that guy with evil authority, his eyebrows so furrowed he looks wickedly dark.
“I-I wasn't talking to you, man,” that guy shakes his head, lifting self-protective hands. “S-sorry.”
“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” Charlie stalks up to him and points a steady finger in his face. “You understand that, boy?”
Rolling my eyes, I carry on through the kitchen and into the living room so we can be alone and undisturbed. Charlie's heavy footsteps follow me in.
“What'd you want to speak about in private, Blaire?”
“I can do no more than eleven minutes,” I say, facing him. I just want to get this over with so I can go home. “I'm sorry, Charlie, as is Maksim.”
Charlie stops right in front of me—literally. We're toe to toe, my eyes level with his chest. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and my anxiety peaks because I can sense he's staring down at me. I fight for my composure, thinking about being at home reading or something. It's easier to control my mental state if I'm not spiritually near him.
Lifting a hand, he runs a thumb over my jaw line, using the sharp of his nail when he reaches my chin. I'm mentally back in the room now. His touch seems to ignite my body. Hairs raise and my blood pumps a little faster.
I don't get this, the sensation of when he touches me. No one but Maksim has ever touched me like this before. No one but Maksim is allowed to touch me.
In the moment of thinking about Maksim, I aim to slap Charlie's hand away, that black switch going off in my head, but it's Charlie's voice that stops me in my tracks.
“Maksim told you, Blaire, fifteen minutes,” he whispers, his voice deeper than usual. It carries above the music coming from the kitchen.
Lifting my shoulders, I repeat, “I'm sorry, Charlie.” I don't sound like myself. I sound a little... breathless, and anxious. “I can't give you what I don't have.”
“Is that right?” Stepping forward, he practically puts us flush against each other.
I scowl up at him, defiantly meeting those powerful blue eyes. Why does he do this, ensure close proximity?
I step back, but he steps for me, smirking. Another step, and another, until I'm pressed against the wall. Charlie cages me in from the front, his legs slightly open as if he's readying himself for a fight.
I can feel the warmth from his body... smell the clean muskiness of his skin... It's all so inviting.
“No one is allowed to touch me,” I counsel him with all the will I have, lifting my chin so I can hold his consuming gaze. He towers over me by at least eight, maybe ten inches but I'm not afraid of him.
He knows I'm not.
He smiles down on me, and I'm not sure, but he looks... excited?
“Maksim will let me touch you,” he says, matter of fact.
My heart stutters. I know where he's going with this. I can see desire burning in his eyes.
To steer clear of a conflict I try to walk past him but he grabs my wrist. A black switch goes off in my mind and all I can hear are Maksim's words;no one is allowed to touch you, ever; no one but me, my little pet.He's told me this for years. He used to play a recorder on repeat while I slept until his words sunk into my subconscious. That's why I live to serve him.
I smirk back at Charlie. “You shouldn't have done that.”
He flicks up his eyebrows to challenge me.
I twist out of his grasp so fast that I land on my knees and elbow him back in the bollocks. He gasps out, doubling over, and lands on his hands. I sprint forward and stand, turning around to face him.
