Page 48 of Crowned

“I know. I just want to,” Elyah tells me, a smile playing around his lips. He adjusts my T-shirt into place around my shoulders, and then his forefinger slowly brushes my throat, and his smile dies.

For a long time, I bore the brutal red mark of the rope he placed around my throat. His gaze locks on mine, and I can tell we’re both remembering the same thing.

You have to go on believing I’m a liar. Otherwise, you’ll have to face up to all the cruel things you’ve done to the woman you love for no good reason.

The last time he was standing so close to me, he was putting a hangman’s noose around my neck. I nearly strangled to death, but Elyah brought me back, and the rope lay on the floor next to us while we made love.

I needed that key in his pocket.

It wasn’t about sex.

But I still wanted him.

It’s so fucking messed up. I suck in a frightened breath and reach for my handbag.

With his hands gently on my shoulders, he dips his head so he can murmur in my ear, “I will not hurt you. I am not going anywhere. I am sorry, Lilia.”

His touch and voice never fail to send golden sparks winging through me, but then they cluster in my throat as unshed tears. Why does loving Elyah have to be so painful?

He turns away and addresses the obstetrician. “Lilia really is well? She will not collapse again?”

“As long as she follows my directions about keeping her checkups, eating properly, and resting, she will be fine,” the woman assures him with a smile.

“Can she have sex?” Kirill is still standing as still as stone with his arms crossed.

The obstetrician frowns at Kirill. “Well, she… I thought this man was the father?” she says, gesturing toward Elyah.

Kirill smiles broadly at her, wickedness glinting off every white tooth.

My face burns.

“Yes, intercourse is perfectly safe.” She hesitates, looking from one man to the next, at their tattoos, their hard eyes, their muscles, and I can tell she’s thinking that there’s nothing safe about these three men.

“Sex isn’t on the table,” I say quickly. “These men aren’t my partners, and you don’t need to pay any attention to them.”

The obstetrician gives me a quick, tight smile, as if to say,It’s none of my business, and leaves the room.

I glare at Kirill. “Why did you have to ask her that? I have to see this woman until my baby is born. She probably thinks we’re in some kind of weird sex cult now.”

His demonic smile grows even wider. “You’ll be thanking me for asking that question when you’re climbing the walls, begging for all of us to fuck you.”

All of them.

“You wish,” I reply, but I don’t sound defiant. I sound breathy.

All the love and excitement from seeing the ultrasound is cycling through me. I’m in a confined space with three men I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. I crave to feel their hands on me. Their lips on me. Hell, I need to be touched so badly that I’m this close to begging all three of them to press in on me from all sides and just squeeze me tight. My face full of their chests. Their heavy breathing in my ear. My gaze grows unfocused as I vividly imagine it, and there’s a fierce pounding between my legs.

Kirill smirks and holds out his hand to the door. “Let’s get you home before you start taking your clothes off again.”

I snap back into myself and push past him with a glare. Just because my body is craving something, doesn’t mean I want to give in to it.

Back at my apartment, everything feels far too small with three huge men taking up all the space. Elyah takes the obstetrician’s instructions deeply to heart and corrals me into the bedroom. When he tries to help me undress, I swat his hands away. I’m not so helpless that I can’t put my own pajamas on.

Before I can stop him, Elyah presses a kiss to my forehead, and my stomach swoops. “Rest here. I will cook.”

I don’t need to be told to get into bed because after the night I’ve had, I’m exhausted. Tucked up in my bed, I can hear Konstantin in the living room speaking on his phone in Russian. Working, I presume.

The moment I start to drift off, I sit up with a gasp and cry out, “My shift.”

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