Page 90 of Hunt Me, Daddy

“No.”

His expression did not change. Most men reacted when I said no. They argued, pushed, laughed, got irritated, tried to turn it into flirtation, or tried to make me responsible for smoothing over their discomfort. Ivan simply received the refusal like a piece of data and waited, and I hated that it made me want to give him the real answer.

“No,” I repeated, quieter. “Not until you tell me what custody means.”

“It means you stay where I can keep you alive.”

“That’s a definition written by a dictator with a thesaurus.”

“It means you come with me willingly, or I make the situation safer with less cooperation from you than I would prefer.”

“Less cooperation,” I repeated. “That is also very kidnappy.”

“That is why I said I am trying very hard.”

My pulse beat too fast. He took one more step, slow enough that I could move away, but I didn’t.

His hand lifted. I saw it coming. He did not grab me. He did not surprise me. He gave me a second to reject the contact, and the most infuriating thing in the entire world was that I did not.

His fingers settled beneath my chin, he lifted my face a fraction, and the whole street seemed to tilt around the touch. The contact was electric and my breath caught before I could stop it. His eyes dropped once to my mouth and the world went very, very still.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

He wanted me.

Ivan Morozov looked at me like wanting had already become part of the room and the only question left was which one of us would admit it first.

I felt it everywhere.

My skin. My throat. The space between my thighs where my body remembered the shower earlier this morning with humiliating enthusiasm.

His thumb brushed gently along my jaw.

I should have stepped back. Instead, I said, “You don’t get to touch me just because you decided I’m under your protection.”

“No,” he said.

The agreement should have made me feel steadier, but it didn’t.

“You let me,” he added.

My face went hot.

“I tolerated it.”

“You did.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Frequently.”

His gaze held mine, calm and pale and far too knowing. I lifted my chin against his hand. Evidently, my self-preservation had clocked out for the morning.

“You mentioned consequences.”

“Yes.”