Page 40 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

“When I return to this room, I expect you on your knees, naked. If you touch yourself, you’ll be punished because those orgasms belong to me.”

“That’s kinda hot,” I whisper.

“I agree,” he whispers back. “A little predictable and cliché, though.”

“Really? Would regular old vanilla sex be better then?”

“If they were in the middle of a restaurant. He makes her stroke herself to the brink of orgasm under the tablecloth. That would be entertaining. Or maybe at a ball game with luxury seats, they’re both tucked under a blanket. He edges her throughout the entire game and tells her she can only come if there’s a touchdown so her screams blend into the crowd’s.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“Mmm. It isn’t that hard.”

Great. He’s a natural then. I yawn widely. My eyelids are heavy.

“Right, put the book down and get some sleep,” he says, pulling the blanket around me. I have to admit, it feels nice for him to take care of me like this. I close my eyes. I’m in a warm cocoon of protection for the first time in my life. I pretend I’m sleeping, regulating my breathing. I want to see what he does when I’m asleep.

After a while, I wonder if he’s sleeping, too? But then there’s a subtle shift of the covers, and I hear him get out of bed. I sneak a peek as he walks to the bathroom and takes a towel from the shelf.

He did say he was going to shower.

Does he. . . does he touch himself in the shower?

Does he think of me?

I didn’t miss the press of his erection against my ass when he laid behind me in bed. I turned him the hell on, and I am here for it.

I listen for him in the shower. It might be my way too dirty mind, but I imagine I hear him groan. A short while later, the shower turns off, and he comes out wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his tapered waist. It’s dark in here, and he isn’t looking my way.

He walks to the dresser and takes out his cell phone. Frowns at it. Then sits at the tiny desk, which is dwarfed by his large frame, and types into the phone, scowling.

What is his world like? What work does he actually do when he’s not baby-sitting me? I don’t know anything about the man.

His low command startles me. “Go to sleep, Vera.”

I close my eyes, sighing, and finally feel the pull of sleep.

I wake up the next morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing and stare at the screen. Four forty-two a.m. My alarm is going to go off at any minute.

I look beside the bed and find it plugged in. Well. I definitely didn’t plug it in. I look around for Markov, but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Markov?”

It’s a tiny room, and the bathroom’s vacant. Where is he?

The cell phone keeps ringing.

“Hey, Mom.” I’m hit with a pang of guilt. I texted her when we landed but got so caught up in the hustle of everything that I didn’t call her. I do a quick calculation—it’s only nine forty-two in the evening the day before for her. It’s so strange to be in a different day than the person I’m closest to in the entire world.

“Vera! Oh, thank God. I’ve been calling and texting.”

I sit straight up in bed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. I just hadn’t heard from you and was getting worried.”

“Mom, I’m fine,” I say. I feel a little guilty. I should’ve maybe called her last night instead of getting. . . distracted by Markov.

God, I miss her, and it hasn’t even been that long. Hopefully, it’ll get easier. “I was sleeping. Remember the time difference? You’ll be getting ready for bed soon, right?”

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