Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers by Amanda Hough Page B
Authors: Amanda Hough
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declared.
Dragan laughed in spite of himself and took a step toward me, recouping the ground he’d lost a moment ago. “Oh, enlighten me, sweetheart. Please explain, how do you see me, Antonina?” He was grinning but he looked pissed.
“Would you stop calling me that? I fucking hate that name. And the way you say it makes me what to scratch your damn eyes out!”
His face grew serious and the laugh lines transformed into a frown. With deliberate slowness, he leaned down, his gaze penetrating, icy. His thumb on my chin, he whispered, “How do you see me, Antonina?” It sounded like a threat.
I found myself backed against a cabinet. Standing straight, I met his gaze, but words failed me. The force of his question came at me like a wave crashing against rock. I could feel the heat coming off his chest, his warm breath at my temple. Though I remained immobile, faking nonchalance, I knew this intensity would slowly erode my resolve. Change me if I allowed it. I felt the violence in him, a vibration that hummed through his bones, past muscle and flesh and into the fingers that touched my neck. For that moment, that one instant I knew what it was like to truly be attracted to someone. Not just sexually, but electrostatically. Chemically. Positive and negative. Yen and Yang. Sun and Moon. Yield and Attack. I was taken aback at the realization that I’d identified something in him that I’d wanted for a long time. And then… then I looked into his eyes and saw victory in the darkness. Not mine. His. That is when I remembered who I was. And I recalled that he was just a man.
“Well?” he asked again. “What do you think when you look at me?” He’d lowered is head further and his lips were at my ear. He was playing me. Trying to keep me off balance to deflect from his intentions. This was some kind of game of sexual one-upsmanship. I wrote the fucking manual for this little exercise.
I nudged his mouth from my ear and took his chin in to my hand. No man intimidated me. I’d made an art out of manipulating men. Letting them think they were getting all of me. But in reality, getting only what I was willing to lose. I traced my index finger across his bottom lip. I offered a stunted exhale and heard his breath hitch, just a little intake of breath and I knew he was paying attention. A little crack in his icy facade? A smile spread across my face. And I trailed the finger down his throat, his chest, to rest at his belt buckle. Below my touch, his pants tented. He was hard. “You…” I leaned into his body, got on my toes and pressed my lips against the jagged scar that stretched horizontality across his neck. He smelled like soap and cigars and the scent went straight to the amygdala of my brain. My desire to let my tongue work, warred with my need to rule the situation. Control won. I inhaled deeply and took his shirt into my fist. I’d dream about the smell. Masculine arousal. “You… Dragan. You are out of your league.” I winked, sidestepped him and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER NINE
BRENNA
The Dragan
I made certain I was seated as far away from Toni as I could get. But that didn’t stop me from watching her throughout dinner.
She and Boris hit it off immediately. Both exchanging jokes with one another. Sharing stories. Nicolai seemed to be enjoying himself too. Evelyn babied him. Refilling his plate with l asagna, asking him about his work, his plans in Austin. Brenna spent half her time wiping tomato sauce off her growing baby belly and half in tears. I’d brought Nico to her after he arrived in town earlier that day. There had been a lot of tears then. She’d spoken on the phone with him and exchanged letters over the years. But this was the first face to face in two decades. But that didn’t stop her from crying now. It had been an emotional reunion. That coupled with the drama going on with our other sisters and their grandmother, Brenna cried often. A fact that Boris brought to both
Dragan laughed in spite of himself and took a step toward me, recouping the ground he’d lost a moment ago. “Oh, enlighten me, sweetheart. Please explain, how do you see me, Antonina?” He was grinning but he looked pissed.
“Would you stop calling me that? I fucking hate that name. And the way you say it makes me what to scratch your damn eyes out!”
His face grew serious and the laugh lines transformed into a frown. With deliberate slowness, he leaned down, his gaze penetrating, icy. His thumb on my chin, he whispered, “How do you see me, Antonina?” It sounded like a threat.
I found myself backed against a cabinet. Standing straight, I met his gaze, but words failed me. The force of his question came at me like a wave crashing against rock. I could feel the heat coming off his chest, his warm breath at my temple. Though I remained immobile, faking nonchalance, I knew this intensity would slowly erode my resolve. Change me if I allowed it. I felt the violence in him, a vibration that hummed through his bones, past muscle and flesh and into the fingers that touched my neck. For that moment, that one instant I knew what it was like to truly be attracted to someone. Not just sexually, but electrostatically. Chemically. Positive and negative. Yen and Yang. Sun and Moon. Yield and Attack. I was taken aback at the realization that I’d identified something in him that I’d wanted for a long time. And then… then I looked into his eyes and saw victory in the darkness. Not mine. His. That is when I remembered who I was. And I recalled that he was just a man.
“Well?” he asked again. “What do you think when you look at me?” He’d lowered is head further and his lips were at my ear. He was playing me. Trying to keep me off balance to deflect from his intentions. This was some kind of game of sexual one-upsmanship. I wrote the fucking manual for this little exercise.
I nudged his mouth from my ear and took his chin in to my hand. No man intimidated me. I’d made an art out of manipulating men. Letting them think they were getting all of me. But in reality, getting only what I was willing to lose. I traced my index finger across his bottom lip. I offered a stunted exhale and heard his breath hitch, just a little intake of breath and I knew he was paying attention. A little crack in his icy facade? A smile spread across my face. And I trailed the finger down his throat, his chest, to rest at his belt buckle. Below my touch, his pants tented. He was hard. “You…” I leaned into his body, got on my toes and pressed my lips against the jagged scar that stretched horizontality across his neck. He smelled like soap and cigars and the scent went straight to the amygdala of my brain. My desire to let my tongue work, warred with my need to rule the situation. Control won. I inhaled deeply and took his shirt into my fist. I’d dream about the smell. Masculine arousal. “You… Dragan. You are out of your league.” I winked, sidestepped him and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER NINE
BRENNA
The Dragan
I made certain I was seated as far away from Toni as I could get. But that didn’t stop me from watching her throughout dinner.
She and Boris hit it off immediately. Both exchanging jokes with one another. Sharing stories. Nicolai seemed to be enjoying himself too. Evelyn babied him. Refilling his plate with l asagna, asking him about his work, his plans in Austin. Brenna spent half her time wiping tomato sauce off her growing baby belly and half in tears. I’d brought Nico to her after he arrived in town earlier that day. There had been a lot of tears then. She’d spoken on the phone with him and exchanged letters over the years. But this was the first face to face in two decades. But that didn’t stop her from crying now. It had been an emotional reunion. That coupled with the drama going on with our other sisters and their grandmother, Brenna cried often. A fact that Boris brought to both
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