Page 34 of Born into Sin

“Maybe you staying here wasn’t such a great idea.”

His voice is low, accent thicker, and when I clutch his shirt tighter and lean closer, he lets out a soft groan.

“I want to stay here. I feel safe with you, Dominic.”

The look he gives me is ravenous. “You shouldn’t, principessa. Safe is the last thing you are with me.”

Instinct has me leaning closer, even though my internal fight-or-flight is screaming at me to get some space between his cock and my body. Ignoring that part of my brain, I bring one hand up to his face, grazing his stubbled jaw with the tips of my fingers. He doesn’t move, just watches me as I memorize every inch of his chiseled jaw, but when I lean even closer, he groans and cups my face, holding me still.

“You need to get cleaned up. I can show you the room you’ll be staying in.”

“I don’t want to get cleaned up right now.”

He lets out another soft groan and runs his thumb along my top lip. He whispers something in Italian that sounds sexy as hell.

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s time for you to go and get cleaned up.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up again at the scowl I give him. “That’s not what it meant.”

“Do you speak Italian?”

“No.”

“Then I guess you’ll never know.”

Irritated that he won’t tell me, I tilt my head and swipe my tongue over the thumb that’s still hovering by my mouth, and say in Russian, “I want you to kiss me, Dominic, and then I want you to carry me to your bed and show me all the things I’ve been missing.”

The look he gives me has me letting out a soft laugh. “I take it you never got around to learning Russian.”

“I’ve been busy.” When I don’t say anything, his eyes narrow slightly while he tries to figure me out. “You’re not going to translate?”

“I will if you will.”

“I guess we’ll both have to remain in the dark.”

Before I can argue, he grabs my hips and lifts me off him like I weigh nothing. When he stands, I run my eyes over him. It’s impossible to not notice the way his cock is straining against his pant leg. My fingers itch to reach out to him, but he quickly repositions himself and buttons his suit jacket, effectively hiding himself from my hungry eyes.

When I look up at him, there’s an amused grin playing at his lips, and when I frown even harder, he lets out a soft laugh.

“Come on, principessa, you’ll feel better after a bath.”

Part of me wants to argue, but the bigger part of me really wants to wash Grigori’s blood off, so I follow him out of his office and up a wide staircase, my bare feet absorbed by the plush carpet before I remember my scraped feet. I stop and lift one foot up, looking to see how bad it is. I’d been so hyped up on adrenaline and fear and then distracted by Dominic and the ache he always causes between my legs to worry about my feet, but when I see the scrapes and dried blood, I hiss out a breath and look up at him.

Hearing me, he pauses on the steps and looks back at me. As soon as he sees the blood, he growls something in Italian and picks me back up again.

“You said you weren’t hurt.”

He sounds pissed, so I quickly look back at the small blood stains I’ve left on his stairs. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean the stains out as soon as I’m out of the bath.”

He stops mid-step and meets my eyes. “Do you seriously think I give a fuck about my carpet right now?”

“I thought that’s why you were mad,” I admit.

“I’m irritated because you’ve been hurt this whole time, and I should’ve taken better care of you.”

“Oh,” is all my stunned mind can manage, because that never once occurred to me.

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