Page 62 of Beautiful Cruelty

His storm-gray eyes catch mine. "That you belong to someone powerful."

Belong.The word hits me like a punch to the gut. "I don't belong to anyone."

"But you need to look like you do. For that reason, you need something ostentatious. Eye-catching." His voice drops lower. "Something proper."

"Didn't you tell me that you preferred somethingimproper?" I can't help stop my lip from curling up into a smile. "I thought it was more intimate that way."

"Unfortunately for both of us." He leans closer, his thigh pressing against mine in the confined space of the car. "We can't afford to look improper on this matter, no matter how much I want you to."

A soft whir fills the car as Vadim hits a button. The partition rises between us and the front seat, sealing us off in our own private world.

"Soundproof," he murmurs before I can ask, his fingers trailing up my thigh. "Now, about your commitment to being improper."

My breath hitches as his touch leaves fire in its wake and sends sparks of electricity dancing up my spine. God, why did I make this hem so short? The fabric offers zero resistance against the heat of his skin, and my body shivers in anticipation with every brush of his fingertips. The thin material of my dress might as well be tissue paper for all the barrier it provides between us.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

"My commitment," I manage to eke out as his fingers sip under the hemline. "Is helping you get into a church, andpretendingto be madly in love with you while we steal a bible together.”

His hand moves upwards, pushing the hem higher along my thigh. "Just how much are you pretending right now?"

My heart pounds against my ribs as his thumb finds its way to my inner thigh, and traces slow torturous circles that make me want to squeeze my legs together. My chest rises and falls with each trembling breath. Every nerve ending is coming alive under his touch.

This is dangerous, I think. Not the scheme that I've agreed to, butthis. The way my body responds to him. The way I want him to find every line I can draw in the sand, and obliterate them with his hands and mouth. The way that I want to know more about his true self hidden behind that carefully constructed mask.

I want to know how his mother's story is the saddest and cruelest of them all.

I shouldn't want to know, I shouldn't want to focus on anything other than how to pull off our dangerous game. But instead, all I can think about is piecing together the puzzle that is Vadim Stravinsky.

And how easily his touch sets my body on fire with want. How Icravefor him to do more.

His hand slides higher, coming closer to the space between my legs that's rapidly turning damp each time his thumb makes another full circle.

Rational thought becomes almost impossible.

"You're thinking too much," he says against my ear.

"Someone has to." But my voice comes out breathy and weak.

"No." His lips brush my earlobe. "Right now, you just need to focus on being convincing."

Convincing? He wants convincing? I'll show him convincing.

Before he can react or pull back, I turn and capture his lips against mine. The taste of coffee and something darker, something dangerous and uniquely him, fills my mouth.

My fingers find his tie, using it to pull him closer. He responds in a heartbeat, and kisses me back just as fiercely.

A groan rumbles through his chest when I trace my tongue along his lower lip. His other hand tangles in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss. Heat pools between my legs as his tongue slides against mine.

I break the kiss. "Was that convincing enough for you?"

He responds by moving his hand higher up my thigh until it's feathering the edges of my panties. A single finger hooks underneath the soaked thin material of my panties, and I can feel cool air kiss my wet pussy before it's replaced by the searing heat of his finger probing along the slit.

I gasp. "Now who's being improper?"

"Not you." His lips curve into a victorious smile.

"Not me." I whisper as a finger, thick and hot, slips inside of me.

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