The urge to take the sketch away from Pav’s view was too strong to ignore, so she crossed the kitchen floor, and snatched it up from the table without a word. Quickly, she tucked it under the pad of paper where it couldn’t be seen. All the while, Pav said nothing, simply watched her clean up the table and other items she had left sitting out.
“Do you draw every day?” he asked.
“I used to,” she mumbled.
“Yet, you tattoo.”
“Not as often as I used to. It’s not that I did it for money; my father made sure I had more than enough of that to last me several lifetimes.”
She didn’t miss his nod from the corner of her eye, but he didn’t touch on her words with his next question. “Do you not want to draw anymore?”
She swallowed hard. “I haven’t wanted to in a long time.”
“That’s a shame. Look how beautiful your work is.”
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the last couple of pieces of charcoal and put them back inside their box. Who knew when she would take them out again and draw? The thought both pissed her off and made her sad. Neither of which she wanted to deal with right then.
“I haven’t wanted anything in a long time,” she added after a moment.
It was easier to say that and keep staring at the pile of things she’d cleaned up on the table. If she looked at him when she said it, then she was going to see pity in his eyes. Or something worse … and she didn’t want to deal with those things, either.
“But you want me,” he murmured.
There he went again.
Being forward.
And not entirely wrong.
Viktoria lifted her head, and found he was staring at her just like she thought. Except she could feel his gaze, anyway. Heavy and pointed, it felt like it could nail her to the wall with the intensity she found staring back at her.
She didn’t find pity there, either.
“Don’t you?” he asked again.
Viktoria laughed under her breath. “Maybe I sometimes want some things.”
“Try me.”
“This isn’t a therapy session, okay?”
“Your attitude doesn’t scare me off like it does everyone else. I find it amusing, like a challenge to work through. I like challenges.”
Damn him.
“You wouldn’t understand what was happening in my head, even if I tried to explain it,” Viktoria muttered. “Half the time, I don’t understand it.”
“You don’t know that if you don’t tell me.”
She dragged in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be afraid of you, but I also don’t want to trust you. I want to feel like I did on that back porch again, but I also want to drink myself to sleep because that’ll be easier than what will happen after.”
Viktoria was quick to look away from him, then. She focused on the things sitting on the table again, ready to pretend to reorganize them because she had nothing better to do. It was only his hand lifting up from his side and reaching for her that stopped her from doing anything at all. His palm was soft, yet rough from the callouses on his fingertips, as it came up to cup her cheek. His thumb stroked the line of her cheekbone, and sparks followed the same path. A chill raced down her spine, and heat flooded her veins at the same time.
Fear.
And lust.
How?
“What did I tell you about fear?” he asked quietly.
“To learn to love it.”
“And what did I say about me being here?”
“That you’ll leave, if I tell you to go.”
“Do you care to hear what I want, Viktoria?”
She swallowed the knot in her throat, unsteady but still grasping to find stability in the war that was her mind and body. She looked up to find he was still staring at her. He was still there, and she was still a fucking mess.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I think I would like to hear that.”
Pav grinned, then, and she swore the world stopped spinning for a split second as she focused in on his smile. How he managed to look dangerous and sinful at the same time, she couldn’t understand. She dragged in a quick breath when he leaned in closer, enough that there was only a very small breath of space between them, and she could see the tiny scar that split the right side of his upper lip.
“What I want, yeah, is to hear the different sounds you’ll make when I’m learning what your body will do for me,” he told her, his gaze slipping down her throat as he spoke. “I want to know what your skin tastes like when you’re hot and begging for me. I want to know what your cunt tastes like when my fingers are buried in your ass and you’re high on it. I want to find out how hard your pussy will squeeze my dick when I’m soaked with you and I’ve got you on your knees.”
She blinked, her mouth feeling dry but her thighs aching. She was quite sure the spot between her legs was anything but dry, and that shocked her a bit. It had been far too long since she’d willingly laid down with a man.
And this man?
He terrified her.
“I don’t think you understand how much that—”
“Scares you a bit,” he returned, his grin deepening a bit. “I know; I can tell.”
“You like that, I think.”
Pav arched a brow. “I like that you fight it for what you want. You want more than you fear, and that gets me off.”
Jesus Christ.
She swallowed the knot in her throat, because he wasn’t wrong. She was all too willing to fight the constant
