BAD WIFE

Chapter {10}

Nikolai's eyes were low-lidded, slow, and smoldering—an intoxicating mix of lust and restraint. He turned from the door after locking it with a soft click, and when his gaze met hers, it was as if the air between them thickened.

"Baylee," he whispered, voice rich and rough like velvet dragged over gravel. He began stalking toward her, slow and deliberate—like a predator savoring the hunt.

She couldn't move. Wide-eyed and frozen, she stood like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed under the weight of his attention. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her thoughts scrambled, unable to keep pace with the pull he had on her. Her defenses were already low—exhausted by the confusion of their dynamic, the pain of his presence, and the memory of his absence. She knew she couldn't afford his touch, not now, not with her heart already bleeding beneath her skin.

Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and she startled, letting out a subtle gasp. She hadn't even realized she'd been backing up.

"Wha..." she breathed.

He moved in close, boxing her in with his broad frame. "Leaving without giving me that promised conversation?" he murmured, voice thick with accusation and ache.

His hands rose, settling on the tops of her shoulders. They glided slowly up her neck, his touch warm and possessive, until they cradled her head like something precious. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek.

"Don't," he said softly. As if begging. As if warning.

She looked up and saw it then—the unmistakable haze of alcohol in his eyes, clouding the sharpness of his usual control.

Her palms landed on his chest, a weak protest. "You need some coffee."

His lips brushed her ear. "I need some you."

Her breath hitched as he leaned down, his stubble grazing her cheek, his mouth pressing a soft, reverent kiss between her shoulder and neck. "Hmm..." he hummed, inhaling her deeply. "You always smell so damn good."

Goosebumps lifted across her skin like a rising tide. Her body betrayed her, melting into him. Her arms slid around his neck, holding on even though her mind screamed at her not to.

"Niko..." she whimpered, voice thick with need and fear.

His lips lingered near hers, the heat of them devastating. "Why don't you want me, baby?" he asked, his voice a jagged whisper—aching, hungry, and raw.

The question cut straight through her. There was no malice in it, only hurt. Longing. Vulnerability.

"It's not that I don't want you," she confessed, her voice trembling.

"Then why?" His fingers threaded gently through her hair, the backs of them stroking along the curve of her neck. "You know how crazy I am about you. You know I'd move mountains if you asked."

Her lashes fluttered. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. "I'm afraid," she whispered.

He inhaled her again, like her presence alone could ground him. "Afraid of what? Of being cherished?" His lips skimmed her cheek.

That was all it took.

She gave in.

Baylee pulled him down into a kiss—slow, sensual, aching with restraint and hunger. It was an outlet and a distraction, a confession and a lie. It said everything she couldn't speak.

A low moan rumbled in his throat as she explored his mouth with a gentle hunger, teasing the edges of his lips with hers. His arm wrapped tight around her waist, hauling her even closer, until there wasn't a breath of space between them. Her body molded to his like it belonged there.