No more games

(Lukyan's POV)

She thought she could run from him.

That she could pretend last night never happened.

But he wasn't playing that game anymore.

So, when she tried to leave early for work, heels clicking against the marble floor, he was already waiting.

Larissa stilled the second she saw him.

Lukyan leaned against the wall near the front door, arms crossed, watching her.

She swallowed hard. "Move."

He didn't.

His voice was low, dark. "No."

Her jaw tightened. "Lukyan—"

"I let you run last night." His eyes burned into her. "I let you lock yourself away while I was in my room, thinking about how you should have been in my bed."

Larissa's breath hitched.

His lips curled. Good. She felt it too.

"So tell me, Larissa," he murmured, stepping closer, forcing her back against the wall. "Did you sleep last night?"

She exhaled shakily. "That's none of your business."

Lukyan tilted his head. "No?"

Then, his hand skimmed her hip.

A slow, deliberate touch.

One that made her body betray her instantly.

His lips brushed her ear.

"Did you touch yourself?"

A soft gasp left her lips. Heat flooded her cheeks.

Because he knew the answer.

He pulled back just enough to see her face, his blue eyes dark, knowing.

"You didn't," he murmured, satisfied.

Larissa clenched her fists. "Lukyan—"

His fingers tightened on her hip.

"Tell me, Larissa," he murmured, voice silk and steel. "How long are you going to run from me?"

She swallowed. She didn't know anymore.

Because he was getting too close.

Because he was winning.

And because she wanted to lose.

...

(Larissa's POV)

Larissa should shove him away.

Should tell him to stop.

But the warmth of his hand on her hip, the deep rasp of his voice, the way his body towered over hers—it was breaking her.

Because he was right.

She hadn't slept last night.

She hadn't touched herself.

Because the only hands she wanted on her were his.

And he knew it.

She inhaled sharply, forcing her walls back up. "I'm going to be late."

Lukyan studied her for a long moment.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he let her go.

She exhaled, slipping past him, grabbing her bag.

But before she could step outside, his voice stopped her cold.

"I won't wait forever, Larissa."

Her breath caught.

She turned, but he was already walking away.

And for the first time in years, she realized—

She was terrified of losing him.

---

Lukyan went to work pissed.

Pissed that she was still running.

Pissed that she still wouldn't admit what was between them.

Pissed that, despite everything, he still wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

So, when a nurse made a passing comment about how he looked tense, he barely acknowledged it.

Because how was he supposed to be anything but tense when his wife—his own damn wife—was fighting him at every turn?

And worse?

He was letting her.

Because as much as he wanted to drag her back to his room, to make her understand that she was his, he wouldn't do it until she wanted to be.

So for now?

He would let her play her games.

But Larissa was about to learn something very important.

Lukyan Volkov never lost.

And this?

This was a war he had every intention of winning.

---