Page 60 of Cruel Honor

“You look good like this, you know.”

“What?” I whisper.

“On my bed. If only you were naked …”

I huff, shaking my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Incorrigible? Evie, sometimes you sound like you’re a heroine from the 1800s.”

My cheeks flush. “Well, I’ve read a lot of books about heroines from the 1800s.” I pause. “And how do you even know that?”

“Hey, I read.”

“I’m sorry. I just assumed …”

“That I’m an idiot who’s never picked up a book?”

“No.” I’m so aware of his arms right next to me. Of his hands on my waist. Of how good they feel. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I just think that …”

“That I’m incorrigible?”

I can’t help it—I smile. “Yes.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I know how to read. Granted, I don’t read a lot. I can’t remember the last time I actually read a book. But I’m competent. In more ways than one.” His innuendo isn’t lost on me.

I fall silent as I look up at him and take in his strong, handsome features. His wavy black hair. His stubble. His eyes that know how to look right into me. Why does he have to be so disarmingly handsome?

Dimitri’s eyes darken even more as he leans his head down. He’s going to kiss me, I realize. Is it something I want? Maybe. Should I want it? Definitely not.

I gasp and turn my head at the last second so his lips skim my cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls back. “Guess I read the room wrong. I’m sorry. Normally, women love to kiss me. I was picking up on some signals.”

“Well, you were wrong,” I snap, shimmying out from under him. What am I doing? Why am I letting myself get comfortable with Dimitri? I should still be trying to find a way to escape him. I need to get the pictures I sent of Dima’s house and send them to the police, not lie here and flirt with my extremely charming husband.

Dimitri sighs as he stands up straight. “I have to ask. Why are you so prudish?”

My hackles rise. “Prudish? That’s rude.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You blush at practically everything I say, and don’t get me wrong, it’s cute. I like it. But whenever the topic of sex comes up, you pull away. How come?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. That’s personal.”

“I think we’re way past personal by now, Evie. I’ve saved your life … what? Three times now? Four? We’re married. I think we can share a kiss every now and again.”

“Not if I don’t want to.”

He holds his hands up. “You’re right. I won’t force you to kiss me or fuck me or anything else. I just want to know what goes on in that big brain of yours.”

He looks so earnest and sweet. “You’re good at that, you know.”

“At what?” he asks, smiling a little and looking even more handsome.

“At that.” I point to his face. “Everything about you. You know how to make a girl feel … a lot when she’s with you.”

“And you feel a lot with me?” His tone is cocky. Normally, I roll my eyes at men like Dimitri, men who think they run the world, but he manages to pull it off without being annoying.

“Maybe,” I admit, drawing my legs into my chest. “But I don’t feel like I should.”

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