Gianna.
“Ivan… what are you doing?”
My own voice sounded breathless—even to me—as I took a step back from him. He moved closer anyway, slow and deliberate, like he already knew I’d never really push him away. My body betrayed me instantly, humming, tightening, aching in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Your scent is driving me crazy, ginger,” he murmured.
“Stop.”
I tried to sound stern, but it came out soft. Weak. Nothing close to convincing.
He tilted his head. “You say that, but your eyes betray you.”
My stomach twisted. I immediately turned around, refusing to let him see whatever he thought he saw in my eyes. But I felt him—his presence—right behind me, warm and overwhelming.
Then his lips touched my shoulder.
I gasped. My lips parted, and my chest rose and fell in uneven
