Page 10 of Owning Him
I march straight into the kitchen to pull a fresh pint of chocolate fudge ice cream from the freezer. Today is a guilt-free day. I am not going to think.
I walk into the living room, kicking off my five-inch heels carelessly. I reach behind my back and slide the zipper of my pencil skirt down. I'm left in just my silk blouse and a lace thong. There’s nobody here to see me. I sink onto the velvet sofa, pull a cashmere throw over my bare legs, and turn on some mind-numbing reality TV show.
For thirty minutes, I rot my brain away.
Then, the cushions shift.
A massive weight settles opposite me. I look over to find that Viktor has already sat next to me. In his hands is his own full pint of vanilla bean ice cream.
"Can I?" he asks, gesturing slightly to the empty space between us on the couch.
I let out a slow breath. "You’re my roommate for the next three months, Viktor. Sit wherever you want."
"Elias said this flavor is better," he mumbles, holding up his pint. He digs his spoon into the frozen cream, taking a bite. "He is wrong. Yours looks better."
"Chocolate is always better," I reply, tracing the edge of my spoon against the carton.
A twitch hooks the corner of his mouth. After that, we sit in a thick silence, the trashy dialogue from the television making it less awkward.
Though it’s a bit uncomfortable, as I watch the small spoon in his scarred hands, I hate to admit it to myself—I’m enjoying his company.
"How was work?" Viktor tries to rekindle the conversation.
"The usual."
He murmurs something I don’t catch. The silence returns. I was never the most social person—I hate small talk.
Viktor sets his carton down on his knee. "I am going to be in your house for three months, Valentina. Wouldn't you like to know me?"
Confrontational. He’s not as meek as he was when he first came here, and I feel a little pride at the fact.
"Fine. Favorite food?"
"Meat," he says instantly.
"Fair. Favorite movie?"
He pauses. "I have not seen many. But... maybe Titanic. I saw it once a long time ago. The music was good."
I raise an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. "A romantic. I wouldn't have guessed."
"It is a story about a big boat that sinks," he says, his face completely serious. "I liked the boat."
I let out a laugh, propping one leg up on the cushions. "Alright, last one. What’s your favorite color?"
He doesn't answer right away.
Viktor looks completely transfixed. His eyes are narrowed and glued to a specific spot on the couch.
I follow his gaze down. When I shifted my weight, the cashmere throw slipped. My red lace thong is in full display against the pale skin of my hip and lower back.
He answers like he's in a trance. "Red."
"Viktor!" I snap, my face instantly flushing hot as I instinctively reach to yank the throw back over myself.
He flinches slightly, pulling his gaze up to meet mine. There’s a dark hunger in him that makes the air feel hot enough to melt the ice cream in our hands.
"I am sorry, Valentina," he rasps. "I know you are not intothis... or not intome. But I cannot seem to sit another second without wanting to devour you whole."
