The Player (The Game Maker #3)(75)

My gaze drank in his proud face. Somehow over the last month, he’d grown even more handsome. His eyes were glimmering with satisfaction, his body ready to pleasure mine.

And yet a wave of sadness washed over me. Dmitri Sevastyan was too thoughtful, too attentive and intelligent and sexy and caring. He was too . . .

Perfect.

His gift overwhelmed me. This life overwhelmed me.

Earlier, I’d called Karin from the restroom of a seaside souvenir shop, in the middle of what must’ve been a panic attack. “I can barely breathe.”

“Are you going to confess?”

“How can I risk it?” I would never tell her the tragic details of his past, so she couldn’t understand how badly my betrayal would wound Dmitri. “What would happen if I lost him?”

Her tone grew distant. “You find ways to go on.”

My poor sister.

“Maybe he cares about you enough to forgive you.”

“To forgive all of us.” I still didn’t know who’d placed Brett in Dmitri’s path, making Dmitri lose his ever-loving mind to jealousy.

“Hon, it’s been a month. Something’s got to give.”

She was right. Talking on the phone to my pack of scoundrels a few times a week was like putting a Band-Aid on a sucking chest wound. Hearing Cash’s laughter . . .

As I waited for the answer to my dilemma, the days slipped by.

“Vika?” Dmitri rose and peered down at me, clearly struggling to read me.

I gazed up at him. I didn’t want to love someone who would end up hurting me—or being hurt by me; yet I was on the brink of falling totally in love with Dmitri.

Again, I couldn’t catch my breath. Freaked out and on edge, I could envision every scenario in the world except one: us living happily ever after.

You can’t cheat fate.

My survival instinct kicked in—because if he left me, I’d be broken, a shell of myself, forever replaying this dream I’d once had.

I backed up a step—a grifter sensing the biggest snare of them all—and muttered, “I’ll, uh, lemme go make a call.”

“You’re doing it again. The more I try to please you, the more you distance yourself. Tell—me—why.”

I just needed to hit the pause button for a bit. I forced myself to turn and walk away.

Something’s got to give.

I’d made it to the hall when he clamped my arm and pulled me around. I craned my head up to take in his fierce expression, his crazed eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I need a minute—”

“I can’t goddamned read you! Except for when I’m pleasuring you.” He fisted the material of my dress. “Then you let me see everything.” With a yell, he ripped my dress clean from my body.

I swallowed, shaken by the sudden ferocity of his emotions—of my emotions.

“Then you hold nothing back!”

“Dmitri, wait!”

My bra and thong joined the torn dress on the floor.

I cried out when he swung me up into his arms, cupping my ass in his hot palms. The intensity seething inside him should’ve frightened me; my legs locked around his waist, my arms around his neck, his shirt abrading my stiff nipples.

When he yanked his fly open and shoved his pants down his thighs, my * was already wet for him.

“You are maddening me, woman.” He planted me on his shaft, shuddering with every inch he forced inside me. “Ah, God, Victoria!”

I moaned as my slickened sheath welcomed him home.

He pressed me against the wall, his lips crashing into mine, his tongue seeking. But he hadn’t moved his hips.

Between kisses, he snatched off his shirt. With his bared chest rubbing against my breasts, he kissed me aggressively, tonguing me, as if his mouth f*cked mine. But he still hadn’t thrust.

How was he fighting that primal need? He’d given me his cock, yet held it back from me, leaving me aching for more.

The point wasn’t lost on me.

He broke the kiss to run his lips up my neck. “You’re pulling away from me.” At my ear, he groaned, “Don’t.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me!” He leaned down to lick my tits, nipping them with his white teeth, sucking the delicate flesh between his merciless lips.

As he tormented my breasts in a frenzy, I could only clutch his shoulders and beg, “More.”

He squeezed me, pinching my nipples hard.

I cried out, frantic for him to move inside me. “I need you! Please.”

He stood fully. Sweat dotted his skin, beading his upper lip. His hips slicked my inner thighs. “Look at my marks all over your breasts.”

I glanced down. Stark love bites covered them, circling my areolas. At the sight, I helplessly rocked on his cock.

“No!” He pulled me from the wall and slapped my ass. “Feel what it’s like to need more.”

“Ahhh!” The sting nearly brought me off.

He coiled his arms around me, tightening his ruthless embrace. “I am obsessed with you.” He said this the way another man might say, I am in love with you. “Feel the same way toward me! Want me like you want your next f*cking breath!” When I leaned in to kiss his neck and taste his sweat, his head tipped back and he groaned, “Think of nothing but me. . . .”