Natalya
After half an hour, I’m done.
I stop writing and slide the lid on my pen, standing. “I’ve finished, sir.”
Luigi looks up, eyes narrowing to slits. “That was fast, Natalya. I hope it’s good quality.”
I swallow hard, hoping it is good too as I rushed it.
“I’ve finished too, sir,” Alexander says, also standing.
“What the hell?” Azira asks, glaring at the two of us. “How did you write it that fast? I’m only just over half way.”
“Quiet, Sidorov.” Luigi nods. “Bring them to me.”
I swallow hard, struggling to believe that Alexander wrote his essay as fast as I did.
“Sorry,” I mouth to Azira and then walk to the front, setting my essay down on his desk.
He picks it up and scans the first few sentences before nodding. “Fine. You may go.”
Alexander is next to approach as I walk back to the desk and grab my rucksack, stuffing my books into it.
“Do you always have to be so quick at everything?” Azira whines.
I shrug. “Sorry, I just hate being sat next to him.”
Her expression softens and she nods. “Fair enough. See you later?”
I nod. “See you later.” I can’t deny that I feel guilty for leaving Azira alone with Luigi. Even if his punishment of the three of us today is probably the tamest I’ve ever heard him give out. No whips or chains, thankfully.
Alexander returns and grabs his bag off the seat, following me out close behind.
A sense of unease travels down my spine, as I anticipate the cold-shoulder he’s been giving me for the past three days is about to end.
“Not so fast, Natalya,” he says, once we’re out of earshot of the classroom.
I come to a halt and turn around to face him, only to find he’s closer than I anticipated.
His body is practically flush against mine.
My breath hitches in my throat as I try to focus on anything but the scent of him invading my senses and the ache igniting between my thighs.
“What do you want?” I ask, hating the way my voice shakes.
He smirks, tilting his head slightly. “How about a kiss?”
I swallow hard, eyes narrowing. “Why haven’t you said a word to me for three days?”
His jaw clenches and I’m surprised to notice his whole body turns stiff. “Why? Did you miss me?” he asks, teasing, but he still looks uncomfortable, as if I hit a nerve with my question.
I shake my head. “Definitely not. I just want to know what you’re playing at.”
He grabs my hips forcefully and yanks me against him. “Games, that’s what this has always been, Natalya.” His fingertips sink into my flesh painfully. “A game of cat and mouse.” His lips are within inches of mine.
I hate the way his words feel like a knife being twisted in my chest, and yet I want him to kiss me.
The need I feel for him knows no bound and makes no logical sense and yet it’s there like a living breathing thing inside of me, goading me.
“Alexander,” I murmur his name, and it sounds like a plea.
His lips get even closer and it feels like I’m going to die if he doesn’t kiss me. “Yes, nena?”
Instead of saying another word, I do the unspeakable. I claw my fingers into his hair and yanks his lips against mine, kissing him.
He tenses at first and then I feel him relax, his tongue probing at my lips as he seeks entrance.
I moan into his mouth, kissing him with all the pent up frustration of the past two weeks without him.
Alexander pushes me against the wall, his body pinning me there. “Looks like you lied,” he whispers against my lips. “If you didn’t miss me, why are you kissing me like you did?”
“Shut up,” I say, pulling him close and kissing him again.
He groans, hands moving over the curve of my ass before spanking me. “You are making me hard,” he breathes against my ear, before biting my earlobe. “Is that what you want, Natalya?”
I have no idea what I want anymore.
“I don’t know,” I say softly, pulling back to look into his ice-blue eyes. Eyes that I’d always hated and yet now I can’t imagine not looking into them every single day.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
His visit to Boston shook me in a way I can’t put into words. It made me hope that perhaps somewhere along the line, his hatred for me had morphed into something else entirely.
A desire and a need to be with me that matches my desire for him.
“How many times did you think about our encounter in the bathroom?” he rasps.
“Too many,” I say, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
He lifts me suddenly, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. “Good,” he breathes against my collarbone, lips and teeth nipping at my skin. “Because I own you, and I’m the only man you can ever think about.”
I raise a brow. “Ever?”
“Ever,” he growls, his hand dipping into the pocket of my jacket as he pulls out my cell phone. “Now I need to check if you were a good girl while we were away.” He drops me to my feet and starts flicking through my phone. He won’t find anything. As despite how much I liked Darian, I kept his number blocked and didn’t contact him.
He turns the phone over to me, eyes meeting mine. “Good girl,” he says.
I hate the way my stomach flutters at his praise. It’s pathetic.
“Now, run along.” He nods down the corridor. That cold, domineering man reappearing before my eyes. “And try not to think about me too much.”
I swallow hard and turn away from him, hating how easy it is to follow his orders. Regret hits me hard as I pace away from him, realizing that by kissing him, I just gave him more power than he’s ever had over me.
He knows that I want him and that I can’t stop thinking about him.
Why the fuck did I give my tormentor that leverage?