Page 159 of Hate to Love You
“Panties?” I say with a smirk. “Now that’s interesting. Wonder how you lost those? Also, bet you wouldn’t have this issue if you’d worn a pair of fucking pants.”
Once inside the elevator I slam the button for the rooftop penthouse.
“Roman, if you don’t put be down, I’ll—”
“Do what exactly?” I say, slowly running my hand up the smooth skin on the back of her now bare calves, hearing her gasp. “Scream? Go ahead. No one will hear you. Hit me? Honey, I’ve had worse.”
I move my free hand up her leg to her inner thigh, and slip my fingers between her trembling legs, deliberately brushing her pussy lips with my thumb.
She groans.
“But if you didn’t want me to fuck this pussy,” I growl doing it again and hearing her shuddering breath. “Then you shouldn’t have allowed it to get so very wet when you were carving up Heather…over me.”
The elevator dings, opening to the penthouse, and instead of setting her down, I carry her straight into the bedroom and toss her on my bed.
She scrambles backwards toward the headboard on her elbows, breathing heavily. Without hesitation I grab her ankles and yank her toward me before climbing on top of her, pinning her body beneath mine.
But then I feel her press something against my throat. Something cold…and sharp.
The Antonov Dagger.
She did have it. And she kept it.
Clever little fox.
“If you’re going to use that, Abigail,” I growl, leaning in closer, pressing the blade harder against my own skin, watching her eyes widen. “I suggest you do it now.”
I know that if I wanted to, I could disarm her, and take it from her before she even knew what I was doing.
And I also know that based on what she just did to Heather, with sickening satisfaction, my throat would already be sliced if she really wanted to.
Or felt like she needed to.
But it isn’t.
Instead, her pupils dilate, and her breasts struggle against her blouse, rising and falling in an increasing rhythm.
She does want me. Badly.
“I…hate you, Roman Antonov,” she hisses breathlessly, her eyes fluttering as I move my knee between her legs rubbing it against her sex.
“That’s fine. Hate me, or love me,” I say, slowly reaching for her shirt. “As I said, I don’t care, Miss Wayne.”
Slowly I start unbuttoning her top from the bottom.
“Because I have wanted you, for a very, very, long time.”
“You…haven’t…known me…for a long time,” she says, her voice trembling, but her hand on the dagger still holding firmly against my neck.
“I have, Abigail,” I say, unfastening the last button instantly exposing her perfect tits. “It’s just, you weren’t mine to want back then. So, I didn’t let myself want you.”
Her expression softens, and for just the slightest second, she lowers the blade.
But that moment is enough for me to snatch her hand in mine. Pressing firmly on the pressure point in her wrist, I force the blade into my hand.
Her breath hitches, as now she realizes that she no longer has her protection. And her entire body stiffens as I lower the blade toward her chest.
Savoring the look on her face, I slide the terrifyingly sharp blade beneath the front of her bra and yank upwards swiftly, slicing it open and exposing her naked tits.