Chapter 7

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Nikolas's POV

She tasted like sin.

Sweet, addictive, and so fucking dirty. I'd only meant for my lips to brush over hers- just enough to supply a decent amount of reality into those frozen eyes.

Adriana's waist turned rigid in my grip, then her lips parted in a gasp. I got a taste of something sweet with a hint of spice- cinnamon. It spread over my tongue, made my neck stiffen into a boulder. God, I couldn't remember the last time I kissed a woman. All I knew was, it sure as fuck didn't feel as unnerving as this. Blood shot up through my veins, and this time not from the consummation of cold, hard nicotine.

The photographer wasn't helping either, with his multiple shots from a million different angles- all to end up with the worst one and display it for all of my clan to see. It was supposed to be quick, harmless kiss. Just for one shot. But fuck, she tasted so good, I couldn't help but have another taste.  Before I knew it, my hand slipped up her neck and angled her neck so I could gain more access into her mouth. She melted against my body, pressing herself into my chest so all I could see, smell, hear, was her and her goddamn breaths turn into a heavy, weighing thrush of lava against my lips.

She pressed her palms into my chest, skating a dominant touch across it and making a chill crawl up my spine.

I blamed it all on her.

If it weren't for the little knock on the back of my head, delivered by a certain, iniquitous conscience, my hands wouldn't have realized how far they were roaming. I yanked myself back before they drew to the curve of her ass, and made my tongue retreat before it could tease the seam of her lips.

She stumbled backwards, eyes dazed, curls frazzled, and smeared lipstick giving her a suggestive look. It almost made me wanna pull her back in and mess it up some more. But with astonished eyes burning holes into my back, I quickly adjusted my suit's collar and caught Mikhail's smirk flashing my way from the bar. I ignored it.

The sweat lining my neck made me itch to shrug off my suit jacket.

Was the fucking air conditioner even on?

"Aw, hell. These are gonna make some amazing covers on my boss's new line." The man smirked as he stared down at his camera, and before he could so much as lift it up to show me, I yanked him in by the collar, ice-cold grimness on my face while leftover confoundment and desire ran under my skin in smooth, potent waves.

"No the fuck they won't." He cowered suddenly, hands up in a surrendered position. Did he not know who he was taking pictures of? My knuckles itched to bleed out the pathetic fear in his eyes. "Get rid of them. Now."

He immediately rushed to click sweaty buttons, and I stood for the entire thirty seconds it took him to simply delete five photos.

"Leave. And tell your boss to not hire you for events like these again." Mikhail said I had a common occurrence of getting pissed over stupid shit, but was it really my fault stupid people chose to do stupid things?

He scrambled off, and my attention darted back to Adriana, easing when color tinted the tops of her cheeks and newly-applied lipstick sat like perfection on the lips I'd just stolen a taste of.

In my opinion, the crimson looked better smeared.

"About the kiss-"

"For the photo."

Her body eased, and that made an annoying buzz slither under my skin. No fucking way she didn't enjoy that. I couldn't think of a reason why she looked so comfortable after receiving my consolation.

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