Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The startling blue of his eyes is doused in passion, the black of his pupils big and inky with lust. He seems virile and ready to go for round two while I’m certain my legs won’t carry me to the bathroom.
“How are you doing?” he asks in a tender voice, all the fight from earlier gone.
“I don’t know,” I admit, and I don’t mean on a physical level.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”
I flinch at the burn when he pulls out. He tests my balance before he lets go, and as I watch him with caution slipping back into my heart, he gets rid of the condom. He uses the tissues on the island counter to clean himself and dumps everything in the trashcan before adjusting his clothes. Then he looks over at me. My dress is still scrunched up around my waist, baring the underwear that sits askew, exposing my well-used lady bits.
Self-conscious now, I work my dress down over my defiled nakedness.
He makes it back to me in two long strides and takes my face between his hands. “Don’t hide from me, Katyusha. You’re mine to look at.”
“Am I?”
His jaw sets in a hard line. “You’re mine to strip naked whenever I want to look at your beautiful body. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the day or while you’re talking on the phone.”
“That sounds one-sided,” I say with lethargic contentedness, my brain still floating in the after-sex space.
“Not while my hard-on is tenting my pants.” He drops his hands from my face. “I can assure you, the proof of my attraction will be very visible to you.”
The sour smell of wine reaches my nostrils. Lifting the hem of my dress, I press it to my nose. “Eww. I need a shower.”
He brushes his thumbs over the sensitive skin under my eyes. “You need to eat.”
“I did.”
“Nachos aren’t food.”
I blink. The words sift into my consciousness and grow ugly thorns that hook into my heart. Just like that, the lust clears and reality crashes down on me.
Pushing away his hands, I ask, “How do you know what I ate?”
He regards me through hooded eyes. “I know everything that matters.”
I escape his nearness, sidestepping toward the kitchen. “You can’t spy on me.”
“It’s not spying. It’s taking an interest in your well-being,” he says in a reasonable tone that only infuriates me more.
“You can’t do this, Alex.” My hands are shaking both from the aftermath of our wild sex and from renewed anger.
“Do what?” He follows my movement with his gaze. “Take care of you?”
“Take over my life.” I ball my hands to still the trembling of my fingers.
“I’ve given you time. I’ve given you romance. What else do you want, Katerina?”
“Honesty.”
He stills, a war seeming to rage in his eyes. After a moment, he says, “Honesty is not what you want. Believe me.”
I lift my chin. “Try me.”
He exhales through his nose. “Let it go, Katyusha.”
“No.” This time, I’m standing my ground.
He studies me for another few seconds, his body rigid, and then his shoulders slump. When he walks to the island counter, I take three steps back. I need to keep some distance between us. His closeness makes me forget my own name. If I’m to get the truth out of him, I can’t allow him to corrupt my body with his touch again. The power he has over me—be that a spell or a curse—is too potent.
Placing his hands on the counter, he looks at me from under his dark lashes. “I own an oil company and several other businesses, and in Russia, business and corruption go hand in hand. I have no choice but to deal with some very dangerous people on occasion. People who wouldn’t hesitate to exploit any weakness of mine… such as you.”
“What do you mean by ‘dangerous people?’ Are you talking about mafia?” I ask, feeling slightly hysterical, but somehow doing a good job of not showing it—or reacting to the knowledge that he considers me a weakness.
His grin is humorless. “Call them what you will. But that’s why I went to Moscow. Some things can’t be discussed over the phone, not even on a secure line.”
“Go on.”
“Dania’s father, Mikhail Turgenev, owns a rival oil company. He’s hoping to consolidate our businesses by marrying his daughter to me.” He fixes me with a stare. “That marriage isn’t going to happen. Nothing romantic is going to develop between Dania and me. The sex was purely physical.”
“All right,” I say as a fountain of relief rushes through me. I have no right to feel as light as I do, but I can’t help it. “Thank you for being honest with me.” For once. “Are you stalking me?”
He doesn’t so much as wince at the accusation. “Just keeping you safe.”