The kiss was like a fire, hot and dangerous. It was nothing like the first time. That first kiss was brutal, a desperate act from a man who was not in control. This kiss was different. It was slow, careful, and full of a strange, powerful hunger. Lex's lips were soft on hers, a gentle touch that sent a shock of feeling through Anya's body. His hand, which had been holding hers, now moved to her face, his thumb stroking her cheek with a surprising tenderness.
Anya closed her eyes, a wave of emotion crashing over her. Fear, anger, confusion, and a strange, hot desire she didn't want to feel. He was the man who had taken her, who had ruined her life. But he was also the man who had shown her his pain, his secrets, and his world. She felt a terrible pull toward him, a connection born of a terrible night.
He pulled away, his eyes searching hers, full of a question she couldn't answer. "Anya," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm sorry. For everything."
Anya's eyes filled with tears. The apology was a key, a key that opened a door to a part of her heart she had kept locked away. She didn't want to forgive him, but she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief.
He led her to a big, soft couch in front of the fireplace. He sat down, and she sat next to him, her body a little shaky. The fire was warm, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his body next to hers. He was a force of nature, a silent storm.
"I need to tell you everything," he said, his voice low and serious. "The night at the club. The drug. It's a special kind of poison. It makes the body burn with fever. The only cure is... intimacy. I didn't want it. I didn't want to do that to you. But I couldn't control my body. I was a prisoner in my own mind. My bodyguard... he was doing what he thought was right. He was trying to save my life."
He looked at her, his eyes full of a deep, painful regret. "I remembered you, Anya. Not your face, not your name. But your eyes. The fear in them. The tears. I remembered the terrible thing I had done. And when I saw your name on the intern list, I knew. I knew you were her. The girl I had hurt. The girl who was now in my world."
Anya listened, her heart a messy knot of feelings. She didn't want to believe him, but his voice was full of a real, raw pain. The man in front of her was not the cold monster from the magazine. He was a man with a heavy past, with a dark burden on his shoulders.
He reached out and took her hand, his fingers warm and rough on her skin. "I wanted to keep you out of my world. I wanted to pay you, to send you away, to make you forget. But you wouldn't. You came back. And you found something no one else could. You found the button on Kravtsov's hand. You found the secret that could destroy him. And you found the truth about me."
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "I'm not a good man, Anya. I do terrible things. I live in a world of darkness and violence. But I don't want to hurt you. Not anymore. I want to protect you. I want to keep you safe."
Anya's tears were now falling freely. She couldn't speak. She just looked at him, at the dark, powerful man who was now showing her his heart. She saw not just a monster, but a man who was also a victim of his own world.
He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from hers. "Anya... I want you. Not because of a drug. Not because of a terrible night. I want you because you are smart. Because you are brave. Because you are the only person who has ever seen me, truly seen me. I want you to be mine."
He kissed her again, this time with more passion. His lips were on hers, demanding, but also soft and full of a new kind of respect. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, until she was sitting on his lap. Her arms went around his neck, a silent agreement to his silent question.
The kiss deepened, and his tongue found hers, a slow, sensual dance. Anya felt a strange mix of fear and pleasure. Her body, which had been so afraid of him, was now on fire. Her hands went into his dark hair, her fingers tangling in the soft strands. She kissed him back, a new kind of power and passion in her.
He pulled away, his eyes a dark fire. "I want to be with you, Anya. I want to show you who I am. All of me."
He stood up, carrying her in his arms, and walked to a bedroom. The room was big and dark, with a huge bed in the middle. The sheets were black, and the pillows were soft. He put her down on the bed, and she lay there, a queen in his dark kingdom.
He came down on top of her, his body a heavy, welcome weight. He kissed her again, his lips moving from her mouth, down her neck, to the soft skin of her collarbone. His hands, rough and strong, went to the zipper of her dress, and with a soft sound, the red silk fell open.
He looked at her, at her body, with an intense, hungry gaze. He took his time, his hands tracing a path over her skin. He kissed her breasts, his tongue circling her nipples, making them hard and full. Anya moaned, a soft sound of pure pleasure.
He took his own clothes off, and now he was a god, a powerful, beautiful man. His body was hard and muscled, a work of art. The scar above his eyebrow was a small, dark mark of his past.
He came back to her, and he entered her, not with a brutal thrust, but with a slow, careful push. He was gentle, and he was patient. He moved slowly, his body a beautiful rhythm with hers. Anya's moans were not of pain, but of a pleasure she had never known.
He was a master, and she was his student. He kissed her, he touched her, and he made her feel like a woman, a beautiful, powerful woman. He brought her to the edge, and then he pulled her back, a cruel, beautiful game of desire.
When it was over, she was a mess of emotion and pleasure. She lay in his arms, her body weak, her heart full of a terrible, wonderful feeling. He held her close, his arms a strong, safe cage around her.
"Anya," he whispered, his voice soft and low. "You're a part of my world now. My war is your war. And I will never let anyone hurt you again."
She looked at him, at the powerful man with the soft eyes, and she knew, with a terrible certainty, that she was in love. In love with a man who was a monster, a king, a prisoner of his own dark world. And she was now a part of his world, a part of his war. And she was not scared. She was ready.