Page 21 of Inked Adonis

“Nova.”

It’s the same tone he used to rein Rufus in earlier.

It works just as well on me.

I turn to him, painfully aware that we’re packed into the tight space. There’s no way I can move without touching him.

“I don’t care about any of that. Take a breath.”

Then he peels his wet shirt right over his head.

Welp.So much for breathing.

All the Googling in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the real-life, in-the-flesh sight of Samuil’s bare chest. My tongue is a useless, dry lump in my mouth as I take in his granite abs, the chiseled lines of his obliques.

I wrench my gaze away from his body to his face, which only makes my cheeks burn hotter. “Sorry. I’ll get out of your way. I just need to?—”

I try to edge past him, but he doesn’t budge. He remains stubbornly in front of the only exit as he unbuttons his pants.

Where does the definition end?His obliques go on and on and on…

Eyes up, you pervert!

“Fresh towels,” I squeak, struggling to remember my native language in the face of so much gorgeous skin. “There are fresh towels…somewhere. But I should go.”

Translation: please move so that I can leave the bathroom without rubbing up against you.

Heat pools in my belly and seems to be spreading south, but that doesn’t stop my nipples from trying to carve through the skintight material of my workout top. I want to hope Samuil doesn’t notice, but I catch his eyes shifting from my chest to my eyes and I know that there is nothing this man does not see.

“Nova…”

His voice is warm, beckoning. I can’t help but shift closer. He lays a hand on my wrist, and our eyes meet. His are molten, burning straight to the core of me.

“You’re cold.” His voice reverberates in my bones. “Take off your wet clothes.”

“Who’s trying to get who naked now?” I force out a half-hearted laugh, but Samuil isn’t smiling. “I’m okay. I can wait for?—”

“Now.”

It’s an order. I don’t even try to resist.

I peel off my tank top with trembling fingers and discard it in the clothes hamper.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of my leggings. “These, too.”

“I’m really not that cold.”

“I wasn’t asking, Nova.”

I can’t think about the next step. Where this leads, I don’t know, but I want to obey him. Need to obey him. I like the steely confidence in his voice and the way he watches me without blinking as I strip my leggings down one leg and then the other. They land in the hamper with a wet slap.

He doesn’t even pretend like he’s not looking. His blazing eyes burn through my skin.

“Take your panties off, too.”

But I’m frozen now. I’m rendered useless by his hands and attention and the weight of what this all means.

Samuil’s fingers brush against my hip. “Would you prefer if I did it for you?”

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