Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"Why haven't you killed me?"
"That's still an option."
I swallow and lick my lips. He tells me that, but I can tell that he doesn't actually want to kill me. What I don't understand is what he wants from me.
He brings me to the bathroom I used last night and slides me to the floor in front of him. Holding me against him with one hard arm wrapped around my body, he starts the shower. While the water heats, he bends and deftly unfastens the restraints on my ankles. Though he doesn’t say anything, the look he gives me dares me to try anything stupid.
Bent down like this, he’s in a vulnerable position. I could kick him in the balls. Knee him.
And then what?
Even if I did somehow get away from whatever security measures he has here, where could I hide from the Russian Bratva when I'm already in hiding? It isn’t possible.
Even if I escaped, I’d be right back in the same predicament I was in that drove me to him, only this time I’d have a larger target on my back. I wouldn’t last twenty-four hours.
But why hasn't he killed me?
“Good. I like that you’re behaving yourself.”
I swallow and look away. I don’t want him to know that I…like his praise. I have to remember to hate him.
I watch as he reaches one of his thick, inked fingers to test the temperature of the shower. When he seems satisfied with the temperature, he begins to strip.
Strip.
I mean, what did I think we were doing in the shower?
He’s getting into the shower with me.
He’s…coming in the shower with me. Like we’re…lovers.
I swallow.
I’m going to see him…naked.
And worst of all, when he’s done…it’s my turn.
“Mikhail,” I whisper. But when he looks at me, I don’t respond because I honestly don’t know what I want to say. Instead, I watch as his clothes fall to the floor. I look away, my cheeks flaming.
I’ve never seen a man like him this close, and definitely never naked. I steal a glance back and quickly note heavily inked arms, rippling with strength. Golden skin, and a sculpted physique that speaks of a man that’s never fully at rest. A man who’s trained to use his body like a weapon, laced with so many tattoos, I know they must tell a story.
Broad shoulders flex as he pulls off his tee, revealing more tattoos and defined abs. When he tosses his tee into the hamper, it hits the side and slithers down. I watch the muscles ripple in his back, showcasing another intricate map of ink, but he turns before I note what it is.
And then his boxers. My cheeks burn hotter as I stare into his eyes because I am not looking there. Nope. I need to get into that shower, so…I guess it’s…my turn.
I’ve never stripped in front of a man before. While I’m not exactly a virgin, the sex I’ve had was in the dark and absolutely forgettable. Something tells me that sex with him would be scorched into my mind for eternity. I mean, if I survived it.
I reach for my tee when he narrows his eyes at me, spins me around, and claps his hand against my ass.
“Hey!”
“You do not undress yourself.”
I swallow and stare over my shoulder at him. “What?”
“You heard me, little hacker,” he says in that low drawl of an accent. “That job belongs to me and you will not take it from me.”
Standing there fully naked, he turns me to face him and reaches for my top. He rests his hands on my hips for a brief second before he lifts my top over my head. My breasts swing free. Next, he reaches for my panties and drags them down my legs.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I turn away when I’m fully naked.
I feel his hand on my chin.
“Why do you look away, Aria?”
Aria, not little hacker.
“I’m naked,” I say. Isn’t it obvious? I’m ashamed of standing front of him with nothing to hide me.
“You’re beautiful,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You belong to me now, and you will not hide what belongs to me.”
I. Belong. To him.
Is that my…punishment?
“What does that mean?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“You will see.”
I’m so nervous. Wordlessly, he balls my clothes and tosses them into the hamper in the corner of the room.
“Ten points for Russia,” I murmur.
His eyes melt into an almost-smile before he takes my hand in one of his massive hands, sliding his other down the length of my body.
“Ten points for America.”
I swallow the feeling of pleasure his praise gives me.
It isn’t real. This isn’t real.
I watch as he steps into the shower. The steaming hot water slides down his belly, rivulets cascading down the contours of his muscles. Every inch of him speaks of power, strength, and almost…majesty. A part of me’s still in awe.