A better woman than I.
Before I knew it, I’d sat on the bench a couple of feet from him. I felt obligated to say, “I don’t want this.”
He raised his brows. Oh, really? “Take off your jacket.”
With a swallow, I did. My ivory silk blouse was transparent, my stiff ni**les and coral-colored areolas visible through my white lace bra.
When he made a low sound of appreciation, I admitted, “I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
Never. I shook my head. “I’m scared of what this means. From what I understand, if we keep fooling around, you’re going to get permanently stuck with me. Like you might as well slip a ring on my finger. Especially if we have sex.”
“You let me worry about that.”
Maybe the threat of mutual saddling had been exaggerated? Like when parents tell kids: “Go outside with wet hair, and you’ll catch a cold.”
Fool around with an enforcer, and you’ll catch forever.
Sevastyan would never risk an everlasting future with me, right? And if I remained a virgin through this encounter, surely I’d be exempt from any mafiya-logic rules.
But maybe my brain was latching on to any excuse to keep this interlude going. Mist suffused the air, making everything feel dreamlike. And wasn’t it easier to be reckless in dreams?
“What do you want from me, Sevastyan?”
He reached down to seize my ankles and pulled them over his lap, making me spin on my ass to face him. “Do you trust me, milaya moya?” My sweet.
Off went one of my boots and the accompanying stocking. “For some reason, I do.” Off went the other.
Then he reached forward to unbutton my blouse with those tattooed fingers. I was still considering a retreat—until I caught his masculine scent.
Game over. I’d been drugged.
When he guided me to, I shrugged out of my clinging blouse, leaving my bra—which highlighted my br**sts more than it concealed them.
His gaze dipped, and he rubbed his palm over his mouth. “You control this situation, Natalya,” he said, his voice lulling me until I was staring at his lips. “Tell me what you want.”
Before I could think better of it, I’d gone and told him the truth: “More.”
Cupping my face with both of his hands, he brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. “Then I will pleasure you as I need to, as you need me to.”
I didn’t know what that meant, just knew it sounded necessary and critical. Like breath. “But I can’t sleep with you.”
He dropped his hands, narrowing his eyes with a blatant flare of anger. “All you can think about is preserving your way out? Then rest assured, I won’t f**k you until you beg me. But if you’re not strong enough to resist me, then that’s on you,” he said, repeating what I’d told him on the plane.
No begging equaled no sex? I could resist begging. Then I would be in control. “If not sex, then what do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to give you commands, and I want you to follow them to the letter.” A gleam of pure lust accompanied his roughened words.
How much he needed this! The idea of my fulfilling his “particular interests” wiped my mind of resistance. Made my body pliant, my will weak.
He wanted to command me; I wanted it as well.
He pulled me closer to sit across his lap, until our faces were inches apart, our breaths mingling. He nipped my bottom lip, only to soothe it with his tongue. When he slanted his mouth over mine, I sighed with defeat and welcomed his sensual kiss.
As our tongues began to twine, I was dimly aware that my pants had seemed to melt away. The shock of my bare br**sts against his blazing hot skin roused me. While he still wore pants, I had only my panties left.
He broke from the kiss, lifting me off his lap. “Here, lie back.”