Page 46 of Preferential Treatment

“I’m familiar with lice,” Mikhail said quietly, needing to soothe her obvious discomfort. It was something he’d never spoken of since leaving Russia. “Lice infestations run through orphanages like wildfire.”

Kate lifted her gaze to his, eyes wide with surprise. “Orphanages?”

Another topic he never discussed. “Yes. You knew I didn’t know my parents.”

“I knew you didn’t know your father. But your mother, too? I… I’m sorry. That’s…” She shook her head, at a loss. “Did you ever know her?”

“No. I was left in a church as a newborn.”

Kate’s gaze dropped to the Marian medallion hanging from his neck. She opened her mouth, about to speak, but Mikhail cut in before she could even begin.

“It is what it is,” he said flatly. He nodded at the chessboard. “Your turn.”

She took the hint, abandoning the painful conversation to focus on the game. The coil in his chest twisted tighter.

He couldn’t explain to himself why he’d told her all of that. He wasn’t a monster, he was capable of empathy. But he’d never felt the urge to bare his own vulnerabilities to smooth over someone else’s. Kate was unraveling him in so many ways. He had to be careful that he wasn’t completely undone by the end of their time together. He had to guard himself. It was the only way to survive.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Despite his resolve to be more guarded, it was impossible with Kate.

He was sprawled across the surface of his desk, bare ass pressed to smooth wood, hauling in ragged gasps of air as he came down from the sensory overload she’d just put him through. She was draped atop him, catching her own breath, face buried in his neck. Her fingertips ran in slow trails up and down his arms, an absent gesture that she seemed to need as much as he needed to feel it.

He’d never allowed this sort of thing before. Once the sex was over, intimacies were unwelcome until he felt the urge again. But he couldn’t tell Kate to stop, couldn’t ask her to leave. He mentally recoiled from the thought of doing so.

“I knew you had a talented mouth,” Kate murmured against the sensitive skin of his neck. “But I’ve really been missing out on that cock.”

He grunted indistinctly, still a little dizzy from the force of the orgasm that had thundered through him. He’d certainly been ridden before, but he’d never had a woman do so after shoving him onto his own desk and gagging him with a crumpled-up expense report.

After making him remove every piece of her clothing with his mouth only, she’d caught him unawares, hooking her foot behind his knee and using his own mass against him. He’d nearly cracked his head open on the mahogany surface, but all in all, he considered the potential brain injury a fair price for the blissful mind-obliterating pleasure that had followed. She liked to tease him, his vicious knyazhna, to draw out his anticipation and need until he was nothing but a hammering pulse and raw nerve endings. But when she finally let him come, the release was greater than any he’d ever felt before.

He lifted his head as Kate slid off of him. She combed at her hair, caught Mikhail watching her do it, and snatched her hand away.

He sat up. “Your hair is perfect, Katya.”

“I know, I just… I have to check.” A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she looked away from him.

He couldn’t have that. “I still hide food,” he said.

“What?”

He wished he hadn’t spoken, but it was too late now. “I still hide food. When I was a child, there was never enough. When there were scraps to steal, I’d hide what I could—usually bread, but sometimes packaged things.”

“You still do that?”

He nodded. “Sealed packages only. And always in… understandable places. Desk drawers. End tables.”

“Do you have any hidden in here?”

“Yes.” The bottom, left-side drawer. A jar of roasted peanuts, hidden behind several files. He had no intention of ever eating them. He had plenty of food in his kitchen. He could eat at the finest of restaurants whenever he wished. He just felt better knowing they were there.

“Well, then you can’t judge me for picking at my hair.” She immediately resumed combing her fingers through it, looking both defiant and fragile.

“I would never judge you for that.”

Her expression softened, and her hand fell away from the nape of her neck. After a moment’s pause, she said, “I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll wash you.” He got up to follow her.

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