Page 59 of Auctioned to My Bratva Boss

See? Just mention Veronica and he changed completely.

I turned toward my cramped bedroom, pulled open the closet, and dragged out several shopping bags with luxury logos—filled with clothes he'd given me.

The heavy bags weighed on my arms. As I turned to leave, I ran into a wall. Matvey had followed me into the room. The space was too small—his presence sucked all the air out.

"Take these." I shoved the bags against his chest. "I don't need your stuff."

When I pressed the clothes against him, his eyebrow twitched, his gaze turning cold. Did that insult him? He looked pissed. Who cared? He'd hurt me enough. He should know what rejection felt like.

He glanced at what I'd given him, then back at me. Then he set the clothes on the nearby dresser.

"I don't take back what I give." He walked toward me, his tone dangerous.

Each step landed on my heartbeat, the pressure throwing my rhythm off. I backed away until my calves hit the bed edge. He kept coming. His knee pushed between my legs, his chest blocking my entire view, and finally, he stopped.

"What's that?" His gaze moved past my head to the unmade bed.

There lay the black lace underwear I'd forgotten to put away that morning. Damn it. Why that?

"None of your business." I bit down, trying to ignore his mocking look.

But the gleam in his eyes practically burned me—he was enjoying my reaction. I forced myself to glare back at him.

"What do you want? Walking into someone's room without permission—is that what the CEO of Bykov Group does?"

"You're my employee." His eyes had darkened. "At least for now."

"So what? Doesn't mean it won't make the news."

He laughed softly, the sound sliding over my skin like a touch.

"At most, it'll be tabloid gossip. What I'm about to do to you, I mean."

Heat pooled in my lower belly, like my body heard something my brain hadn't caught up to yet. My gaze dropped to his lips.

"So, you want to push me away?" The corner of his mouth curved into a wicked smile. "Prove it to me, Riley."

I froze, looking up at him. "What?"

"Prove it to me," his long fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his voice honey-sweet. "That you can walk away like nothing happened. That you don't want my touch."

"Tell me when that little pair of panties is soaked through, you can refuse me taking you to bed. Look me in the eye and say you can do it."

God, I knew I couldn't. I'd thought of so many ways to refuse him getting close, but when he showed up, it was all useless. My body always did this—didn't consider whether I wanted it, just felt intense desire for Matvey.

He clearly read my thoughts, that infuriating smile on his face making me want to punch him.

"Nothing's over yet, little liar."

As he spoke, a rumble came from his chest. I was pressed against him as he pulled me down onto the bed. The old frame groaned.

He kissed me again. This kiss wasn't as forceful but still burned with desire. He sucked my lower lip, teeth grazing. His tongue swept across my lips again and again. For the first time, what I felt from him was hunger, not restraint.

He held me, hands sliding from my back down to my waist, pressing down hard. My lower belly pressed against him.

He undid the buttons at my chest. My breasts—burdensome when I walked—sprang free. His hands cupped them, kneading freely. I had the odd sensation I wasn't lying on a bed but on a cutting board.

His thumb dragged roughly across my already-hardened nipple.