Page 12 of Sinner's Sacrifice
He grunted but didn’t complain or shift away.
“Stop getting in my way,” she ordered, her tone ragged with the rage she tried to hide from the world.
“No.”
He lifted his head so he could meet her gaze. She was so angry her eyes were nearly incandescent. So beautiful.
If he said that she’d probably knee him in the nuts.
He smiled, letting his sharp canines show. “Whose murder are you planning and executing in your head? That pimp’s or mine?”
“Both,” her breathing sped up, and she closed her eyes. Her head thunked against the wall of the elevator. “And now I can’t do either.”
He needed to get her mind off murder and on to something more pleasant. Enticing.
“That’s...naughty.” He ran one finger down the soft skin of her neck. He’d been aching to find out how it felt for months, but the reality was so much better than he imagined. Smoother than satin. It made him want to touch her everywhere. Her scent was delightful, delicious, and dangerous. He forgot where he was and who he was, and only wanted to glut himself on her.
He leaned down, his lips parted so he could taste.
Her eyes opened and her glare was hot enough to start his clothes on fire. “Back off.”
He hesitated.
She didn’t. She stomped on his foot with one of her heels, and the snap of one of his toes breaking echoed inside the small space.
The pain hit him a second later, turning his anticipatory grin into a grimace. But it was enough to break through the carnal haze he was in. Enough to allow him to reassert some control over his desperate desire for her.
Desperate desire?
What the fuck was he doing? He’d given his word to her months ago that he would never harm her.
He met her gaze and found equal measures of fear and fury in her eyes.
“I’m not sorry,” she hissed. “You were about to...” She paused, uncertainty clouding her features for a moment.
“Do something I shouldn’t.” He took a step back, winced at the pain in his foot, then took another step away from her.
It was harder to do than it should have been. His body craved her warmth, curves, and scent. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
Yvgeny sighed, then without looking, took her elbow and urged her out of the elevator.
The doors closed behind them, and he kept her walking. “About that pimp,” he said, needing an out, a subject change, and a target to vent the dangerous need boiling inside him.
He could take his frustration out on that low-life. It might help calm him down.
His apartment was quiet, except for the trickling sound of water in the large waterfall feature that took up one corner. All around it were live plants and in the pool at the base of the waterfall were a half-dozen goldfish.
Sam’s gaze didn’t waver from his face, she didn’t even look around, just kept talking in a tone that would have cut deep had it been a knife.
“He’s abusive. He enjoys inflicting pain.”
“Have you met him before?” Yvgeny guided her to a small couch near the waterfall and urged her to sit.
She sat, but it was obvious she wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings. That was either an insult or a compliment. He wasn’t sure which.
“No,” Sam said, her tone hard. “But I’ve treated a couple of his women. And he isn’t who I actually want to find. I want to find the man that pimp sold his women to. There are rumors on the street that there’s a serial killer targeting prostitutes. A couple of girls have disappeared and—” her gaze went unfocused for a moment. “A couple of bodies have been found, carved up. Everyone is scared. A lot of the sex workers I know text each other and a couple of them, who I consider friends, disappeared a couple of days ago. No one knows what happened to them.”