Page 39 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

“Jason Bourne was an assassin,” I say with a laugh. Maybe it’s my imagination, but the slightest shadow crosses his face.

“He was also skilled,” Markov says. “And I’m right here in front of you.”

“You’re a lot bigger than Jason Bourne. And he’s not a small guy. You’re impressive. Look at your shoulders. What do you bench press?”

He snorts, which is the closest thing to a laugh I’ve heard yet from him.

“Now that you’ve gotten a good chance to look at me, go to bed.”

“I really haven’t. You have tattoos everywhere. I want to see them.”

He picks me up, rolls me over, and sets his hand around my waist. “Tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

I stare at the wall like a child who has just been told to go to sleep when it’s still light out after feasting on gobs of candy. It’s not really fair. “I told you, I can’t just fall asleep.”

“Fine. Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?” he teases.

“Um, sure.”

He continues in his rough voice, accent thick. “There once was a little girl who was up way past her bedtime. Her daddy told her to go to sleep, but she was a naughty little girl who didn’t obey, so her daddy gave her a spanking, tucked her into bed, and she cried herself to sleep. The end.”

My cheeks heat.

Daddy. Mmm.

“Very funny. I actually read myself bedtime stories, and they’re much better than that.”

“Go ahead, then. Read your book. Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If you get to a sexy scene, you have to read it out loud.”

“You have no idea what I read.”

“Of course I do. You’re an intelligent, educated woman. Intelligent, educated women like to read romance.”

“How do you figure that?”

“They don’t have time for real-life romance.”

“Hey! That’s presumptuous.”

My back is to him, so I can’t see his smirk, but I can imagine it. “I’m just teasing you. Intelligent, strong women also like to give their brains a little break. There’s no way you could constantly perform at such a high level without fueling your brain. Some women play mindless games on their phones. Some listen to music endlessly. Some watch silly TV shows. You’re a reader, so I doubt you’re reading academic texts all the time. My guess is romance.” He tugs my braid, that’s loose by now and half undone. “And the truth is, I saw the title of one of your books and looked it up, so I have an idea of what kind of stories you like.”

Oh, God.

I pick up my phone and flick on the reading app. This time, though, it doesn’t captivate me as it once did. The hero seems too. . . passive. I’ve had a taste of a real alpha male, and I crave more. The heroine in this book is also annoyingly dumb, the type that makes you want to scream, “Don’t open the basement door!” I prefer someone with a bit more sass, too. And the story itself is all about. . . well, sex. I want more, something I can sink my teeth into.

Now that I’ve had a taste of the real deal, my expectations for my fantasy world are a bit. . . higher.

I skim until I get to a sexy part.

I hold my finger up in the air. “Got it. Are you sleeping yet?”

“I’m dead asleep,” he teases.

I roll my eyes and read out loud to him.

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