Sweet Collateral

“That’s still no reason—”

I meet her gaze. “It’s all the reason I fucking need. He’s shown that he’s willing to overstep. Therefore, I will place myself ten steps ahead of anything he might do.” She stares at me for a second, and then just nods, probably because she knows she won’t win this.

“Okay.” She shifts away from me. “Are you done with…this?” she waves a hand through the air.

“This?”

“The macho stuff.”

“For now.”

“Oh, good.” A small smile touches her lips before she extricates herself from my hold.

When we get home, she heads straight for the stairs, that dress riding just a little too high on her thighs and her hips swaying with just a little too much attitude. Little warrior indeed.

I follow her up the stairs, that damn hemline teasing me with every step. My pulse pounds hard, sending heat firing through my body in all the wrong places. God, she has no fucking clue how gorgeous she is. I’m so transfixed by her, that I don’t register she’s stopped walking until she turns to face me. She’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her delicate fingers wrapped around the frame on either side.

“Well, thank you for…” She waves her hand through the air. “Whatever that was.” I have to fight a smile at how awkward she is.

“Is this you trying to say goodnight?”

“Uh…”

I laugh and grip her waist, lifting her. A small squeak slips past her lips, and her hands fly to my shoulders. “Rafe…”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bed.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “You don’t always have to stay with me, you know?”

I drop her on the bed and brace my elbows either side of her head. “Anna…this is my room.”

She glances around and then releases a long breath. “Right, well, I’ll just go to a spare room.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You stay with me.”

She groans and falls back against the mattress, blonde hair sprawling around her head like her own personal halo. “Rafe, you don’t have to do this.”

I brush my lips over her neck. “Do what?”

“No one is going to take me. My nightmares are manageable…”

Another kiss, the taste of her skin so intoxicating. “I know. And good.”

“So you don’t need to make yourself…uncomfortable.”

I pull back and smirk down at her. “Uncomfortable?” Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks anywhere but at me.

Eventually, she rolls her eyes and points down between us. “Uncomfortable.”

Wrapping my fingers around her wrists, I pin them above her head. “I’m very comfortable.”

Her breaths quicken, breasts rising to greet me before falling again. Damn, she really does test every inch of my restraint. I’m not sure that she’s even aware of her legs parting, or the subtle invitations she throws my way with every breath. Her mind may not be ready, but her body is waking up from her abuse. My lips brush over hers, and she grabs the back of my neck, dragging me against her. The sweet brush of her tongue over mine has me groaning into her mouth. Those creamy thighs squeeze around my hips, causing my shirt to pull free. The bare skin of her thigh meets the exposed skin at my waist, and I glance down. The material of her dress is now rucked up around her hips, and I slam my eyes shut before I catch sight of her underwear. Too late though, I’m already picturing white lace, and my dick is painfully hard at the thought.

Small hands cling to my jaw, pulling my face back to hers before she kisses me again. Harder, bolder, more demanding. Her body bucks away from the bed, rising against mine as though it were possessed. Red-hot blood courses through my veins. My vision spots and blurs and my fists tighten around the cotton sheets beneath her. Shit. And then, she bites me, hard enough to send the copper tang of blood skating over my tongue. I snap. With a growl, I muster every bit of willpower I have and force myself away from her until I’m standing a few feet from the bed. And fuck me—she is wearing white lace. I turn my back on her and take several deep breaths.

The most primitive of instincts will often override the rational. I don’t want her blind desire. I want her, mind, body and soul. But she tests me with every breath because Anna Vasiliev is a lesson in restraint unlike any other.

“Rafael.” Her hand lands on my back, and I slowly turn to face her. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Anna. Don’t apologize.”

“This is what I mean though. I’m not sure you should put yourself through this.”

I smirk. “Why? Because you can’t control yourself?” She dips her chin, blushing furiously. “I’m joking, avecita. It’s fine.”

“I really am sorry.” She looks up at me with sad eyes. “I wish I could be…more.” I don’t even know what to say to her, because she will be—in time. I see her, day by day, week by week. She’s like a budding flower desperately in need of the sun but unwilling to bloom and soak it up. One day she will though. One day she will wake up and won’t be able to remember the scared girl she once was. She’ll take everything she wants in this life because she can—because I will give it to her. One day, Anna will see herself just as I do: strong, resilient, beautiful, and empowered. But that day is not today.