Sinful Addiction

XXXVI

ELENA CASSANO

His suit was dark, hair tousled and damp from the rain but he had never looked more handsome. He looked from me to the road, eyes narrowing. I finally cowered under the heavy intensity of his gaze. Titling my neck to the side to give him my full attention.

"Koshechka," he greeted, his voice soft but his eyes were filled with intensity. He was still staring at me from under lowered brows, his gaze leveled and unwavering.

"Hi," I whispered.

He was still watching me silently, gazing at me with those Arctic blue eyes before he spoke. "You're mad."

"You didn't walk me to the door."

"You didn't want me to walk you to the door, koshechka. I was prepared to." A low, warm sound resembling a chuckle escaped his lips, warming the crystal cold edges of my heart. "With that petty pout, and then you told me to have a good life." His lips quirked at the sides as if that piece of information was amusing to him.

I bit my lips, reached over to grasp a long strand of lock between my fingers. My heart throbbed an erratic rhythm as his eyes followed the movement. "You should have."

"Next time then."

Next time.

"Why'd you come back?" I finally decided to ask the one question stuck in my mind since he picked me up.

His voice was low and rough as he spoke. "You hate the rain."

My heart throbbed wildly at the admission and I inhaled a shaky breath keeping my fingers on my lap. This man. He caught my gaze in the rearview mirror, watching me with perfect focus. The unbearable tension between us tightened the corner of his mouth. "Does it hurt?"

I raised a brow.

"Your ass, koshechka," he elaborated so bluntly. "Wasn't exactly gentle with you."

My cheeks warmed with heat and I bit down into my bottom lip. How could he so blunt and honest about that? His low chuckle threw me off, vibrating through the car, the sound husky and raw.

        He stopped at a red light, turning his gaze over to me. "Your cheeks are rosy." His gaze dropped to my cheek, and his voice grew rough. He was referring to the blush on my cheek, and for some reason, my face warmed even hotter.

"Humiliation does that to you. Ignore it and it'll go away."

Gazing down at me with soft eyes, he said, "Don't think I want it to go away, koshechka."

        For the first time since I had ever known him, something resembling a real smile curved his lips. It softened the hardness of his face, giving me a tiny glimpse of a different person. The same man who was in the bathroom with me tonight.

His fingertips slowly trailed down my temple and over my cheekbones, pausing to caress my jaw with his thumb.

        His expression was a combination of helpless intrigue, softness and a bit of frustration. He murmured, "You didn't answer my question earlier. Did I hurt you?"

For some reason I liked that his voice changed when he spoke to me. It lowered. Softened. Became warm and more intimate as if we were lying in bed together like lovers, and he was trailing his fingers over my naked skin.

"No." Lie. Every single part of my body was protesting from the different angles I was turned and flipped over, and my ass bared handprints from his touch.