Page 51 of Diamond Don

Nik’s warm breath grazes the hair at the back of my head as we watch our past selves sneak away to the empty room where we had sex. He laughs before nuzzling my neck. His lips flutter against my skin as he says, “Still can’t keep my hands off of you…”

“Nik—” I say, unsure of what might come out of my lips next. Will I ask him to stop? Or will I beg him to go on?

“There’s your friend Dmitri,” Nik says, teasingly emphasizing the word.

It’s easy to spot Dmitri on the screen. A blonde with a gorgeous body is excitedly talking to him as he glances around the place, markedly uncomfortable. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and excuses himself. He wastes no time bringing it to his ear before hastily stepping out of frame.

“I thought blondes were supposed to have more fun,” I joke. It isn’t clear in the footage, but it seemed like Dmitri faked the phone call to avoid the poor girl.

“I guess brunettes are more his type if today is any indication,” Nik says under his breath.

“Can you blame him?”

I shimmy my hips back so I sit closer to Nik’s body.

“Can’t say that I do. Dmitri’s respect for authority leaves much to be desired, but his taste in women is impeccable.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Earlier today at breakfast, he was just messing around to try to get a rise out of you, you know.”

“I know. He loves to do that. I’m not concerned about Dmitri, Kat. He knows better than to cross the line.”

I peer over my shoulder to look at Nik. “And what line is that?”

“Daring to try to take what’s mine,” he says without hesitation, not breaking eye contact even for a second.

I scoff, turning back to face the TV. “I’m not yours if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You could’ve fooled me. From where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you are.”

“Once again, you’re delusional. Just because I’m working for you, it doesn’t mean you own me.”

“You keep telling yourself that, milaya.”

“Is that Russian for babe or something like that? Because I can’t stand men calling me babe.”

“Maybe it’s Russian for mine,” he says against my ear, nipping at it.

I shoot him an unamused look over my shoulder.

“How you do you say in your fucking dreams in Russian?”

Nik laughs.

“You’re not entirely wrong. I’ve dreamed about you being mine. Often. Tell me, Kat. Have you done the same?”

I glare at him. “Nikolai, we’re keeping things professional, remember?”

“That wasn’t a no.”

He smirks, completely incorrigible.

“It wasn’t a yes, either.”

“Now, who’s delusional, Kat? If you want me to stop touching you, just say the word, and I will.”

It’s a dare. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but his hands feel so amazingly rough on my skin, and I love the comforting heat of his body enveloping mine—from his torso against my back to his thighs around my own.

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