Page 88 of For a Price

If I’m not in the private chambers I share with Roman, then there’s a study for me to hang out in and read books or watch TV. Every other space in the building seems to be reserved for official business.

“You may begin going on walks around the premises if you feel it will help you,” Roman tells me one night. He’s sensed my misery and come up to kiss the side of my neck. He squeezes me close as we hover before the mirror, our reflections revealing where we stand.

My brows are drawn close and my lips pressed tight, lavender curls freely framing my face. His arms encircle me, his piercing sapphire eyes glued to the mirror glass. He squeezes me from behind and bows his head so his cheek brushes against mine.

“It might help ease the isolation. Some fresh air.”

“I guess so,” I mumble. “I’ll try.”

“Devochka, it is not forever. I will have you in better accommodations soon. I will make it up to you,” he says in his thick Russian tone.

I believe him.

I know he doesn’t like having me confined to the factory. It’s no penthouse, and even he seems to recognize that, but he’s doing what’s necessary.

“Until I have a clearer picture on all that’s going on, I don’t want to risk new locations. This factory may be old, but it’s fortified. It’s more secure than a new facility would be.”

“Have you figured out who it is?”

“What have I told you, Kat? You’re not to know too much.”

“But it was a fire that burned down the penthouse! I should know who it was.”

“It’s for your protection.”

“I don’t always need to be protected, Zver. I’m strong. I’m capable. I can handle myself.”

Roman casts me a stern look, letting go of my waist. He steps away, stripping off his shirt and revealing the muscles carved on his chest. I’m not sure what’s more distracting about his body—the sheer number of tattoos he has or the many ridges of hard-packed muscle.

Many women would salivate just setting eyes on him.

I’m hot as soon as he’s stalking around our bedroom shirtless. My gaze dips to his lower half, where I know what he’s packing underneath those cargo pants.

He catches me watching him and the corner of his mouth tics sexily. “You like what you see, kitty cat? And you used to say I was wrong for watching you.”

I clear my throat, aware how flushed I suddenly am. “What do you expect walking around here shirtless?”

“Same to you when you walk around in those tight fucking leggings. Do you know how fat your ass looks?”

He changes his direction from heading to the closet to closing in on me. His thick arm slides around my hips and he pulls me up against him.

“Do you know sometimes I can make out your pussy lips?”

If my cheeks were warm before, they’re flaming now. I’m so embarrassed that I gasp and push at his chest. “Idon’thave cameltoe!”

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself. I know the truth.”

He grins down at me as I wiggle in his hold, torn between being embarrassed, amused, and turned on all at once. He doesn’t let me go, instead playing up this spur-of-the-moment foreplay that’s started.

As I shove at his chest and try to free myself, he grips me tighter and pulls me closer. He drops his head and presses kisses everywhere he can.

All over my neck and face.

“Don’t worry, kitty cat,” he teases, nipping at my throat. “I love your fucking cameltoe. It reminds me how fat and juicy that pussy really is.”

One thing leads to another, and next thing I know, I’m butt-naked on the bed. Roman’s tossed me down and ripped off my clothes. He holds me down as he licks his way over my body. His tongue works its magic. Shivery sparks tingle across my skin at the feel of his warm, wet tongue.

I try to twist and jerk my way to freedom, but it’s no use—Roman’s too encompassing.

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