Page 49 of Wicked Mafia Beast
The glow from the screen catches the fullness of her lower lip where her teeth have been working it, the skin flushed pink and swollen, and the urge to cross this room and bite that lip myself hits me so hard my fingers dig into my own arms.
My t-shirt pools in her lap, the hem riding high enough on her thighs to reveal the smooth curve of bare skin that disappears into shadow. One shoulder has slipped free of the collar, exposing the line of her neck and the delicate ridge of her collarbone, and she makes no move to fix it.
Her dark hair spills loose across that bare shoulder, and she tucks a strand behind her ear with a slow, deliberate gesture that she might not realize is an invitation but my body reads as one anyway.
I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms, letting the silence stretch, giving her time to decide what happens next. But her eyes make the decision for her. They drop from my face to the bare expanse of my chest, tracing the barbed wire inked across my collarbone, following the lines down through the roses, lingering on the ridges of muscle along my stomach before drifting lower to where my sweatpants hang low on my hips. The drawstring hangs loose, the fabric barely holding on to the cut of bone and muscle beneath.
Her lips part on a slow exhale, and when her gaze finally drags back up to mine, the blue has gone dark with a hunger she's not bothering to hide.
She doesn't say a word. She doesn't have to. Her body just told me everything.
“Onyx,” I return several heartbeats later.
She closes the laptop. The click echoes through the quiet room, and the light dies, leaving us in nothing but moonlight from the sky light above and the charged silence of two people who both know why I'm standing in her doorway.
"You have another question for me already?" One eyebrow arches, her lips pulling into that crooked half-smile that does strange things to my willpower.
Such a playful little thing. "Nyet."
"Oh? Then what?"
The honest answer is simple. I'm here because my bed is cold without you in it and the ceiling stopped being interesting three hours ago. I'm here because the taste of you is fading from my tongue and that's unacceptable. I'm here because every hallway in this building leads to your door whether I want it to or not, and tonight I stopped pretending I wanted it to lead anywhere else.
"I couldn't sleep."
Her other eyebrow rises to meet the first. "The Bratva Beast gets insomnia and his cure is my bedroom doorway? Most people try warm milk."
"Most people don't have you down the hall."
The words come out before I can filter them. Her mouth opens on a sharp inhale, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.
She recovers fast, the surprise dissolving back into that infuriating smirk, but the flush climbing her throat gives her away.
"Careful, Kon. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."
"Take it however you want."
"I usually do." She swings her legs off the bed and sits on the edge, her bare feet dangling above the floor, the t-shirt riding higher on her thighs. "So the Beast can't sleep and warm milk won't cut it. What's the plan? Stand in my doorway looking broody until sunrise?"
"That was the backup option."
She runs her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it back from her face, and the movement pulls the t-shirt taut across her breasts in a way she either doesn't notice or absolutely does. "Well, I've been staring at the same paragraph for an hour and my brain won't shut off, so at least we can be insomniacs together."
I rub at the beard covering my chin. "What are you working on?"
Glittering blue eyes meet mine. "Mm. Nice try." A knowing smile curves her mouth. "That's a question, and you said you weren't here for those."
I push off the doorframe and take one step into the room. Carpet cushions my steps as I slowly make my way closer. "You're impossible."
"And yet here you are. At my door. At midnight." She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp blue eyes. "You could havepaced the hallway. Could have hit the heavy bag. Could have drunk your way through that silver flask. But you came here."
"Da."
"Why?"
"I came because I wanted to."
Being honest with her is easy. Her expression shifts, the sardonic armor flickering, and underneath it I catch a flash of vulnerability so raw it makes my ribs ache. She blinks and it's gone, shuttered behind those blue eyes, but it's there. It's always there.
