Page 47 of Bound By Revenge

“How do you say ‘in your dreams’in Russian?”

He laughs, unbothered. “You’re not wrong—I’ve dreamed of you being mine. Often.” He pauses, voice dipping. “Tell me, Kat. Have you done the same?”

I narrow my eyes. “Nikolai—we’re keeping this professional. Remember?”

“That wasn’t a no.” He smirks, undeterred.

“It wasn’t a yes, either.”

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

It’s a dare. My mouth opens, ready to tell him to stop—but I don’t. His hands are rough in the most intoxicating way, working my shoulders as the heat of his body surrounds me, his torso against my back, his thighs framing mine.

He waits, his hands never faltering. When I remain silent, his lips curl into a triumphant smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

He chuckles softly, and I want nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off his face.

I’m tired of being at his mercy. Controlling my fate isn't enough—he also bends my body and mind to his whims, effortlessly.

But I’m not ready to surrender. His reactions yesterday proved he can't control his response to me any more than I can control mine to him.

If seduction is what it takes to bring this unthinkably powerful man to his knees, then so be it. I’ll use his attraction to me to take back some power, even if it means playing with fire. I'm nothing if not a risk-taker.

As his hands work my shoulders, I scoot my hips closer to his—slow, deliberate. I want him to know this is no accident, no slip of control.

I shift back just enough to feel the hard, unmistakable pressure of his erection against me. His hands pause for a split second before resuming their firm kneading.

Eyes still glued to the screen, I begin to rock my hips against him, slow and purposeful. His massage falters again as he sucks in a sharp breath.

I pause, turning slightly to look at him over my shoulder. “Everything okay?”

His narrowed eyes meet mine, heat sparking in his gaze.

“Can’t complain,” he says, his voice tight, before returning his focus to my shoulders.

I don’t bother hiding my sigh of pleasure—I want him to know his touch affects me. Because I know it will affect him.

His guarded eyes flick to me as I pretend to focus on the surveillance footage. Leaning back against him, I press into the solid heat of his chest, the hard lines of his abs molding against my spine. Resting my head on his shoulder, I roll my hips deliberately against his cock.

He inhales sharply, his hands freezing mid-massage.

“Kat…” he warns, his tone low, strained with restraint.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I ask sweetly, brushing off his feeble attempt to regain control.

His glare sharpens, one eyebrow raised—his go-to look whenever he thinks I’m being particularly challenging, I'm starting to realize.

“I know what you’re doing.”

For a moment, I toy with the idea of feigning innocence, but the small smile curving my lips gives me away. “Good.”

That catches him off guard, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes before he regains composure.

“Toying with me again? I thought you’d learned your lesson.”

His voice is sharp, but the menace in his expression loses its bite as his cock grows harder, pressing insistently against me. I reward him with a deliberate slide of my hips, dragging my ass up and down against him.

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