Page 86 of Beautiful Cruelty

"—And improper at the same time." He finishes my sentence.

"Yes." I nod. "To look as regal as a queen while knowing that you used me like a cheap whore. To be free of guilt for daring to enjoy something for me."

"To be selfish." His hands tighten on my shoulders possessively. "For once in your life."

"And that terrifies me," I admit. "Because I've never felt this way before. And I know that sooner rather than later, I'll have to choose."

His fingers trail up my neck, and my breath hitches. "What do you feel right now?"

"I want to be here with you," I whisper, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

He steps closer, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against the delicate beading of my dress. His other hand finds my waist, and heat blooms wherever he touches. "And now?"

"I want to stay here with you," I repeat, my voice trembling. The scent of his cologne fills my senses—spicy and masculine and dangerously addictive.

His lips ghost over my ear, barely touching but sending electricity down my spine. His fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back. "Tell me again."

"I want to stay here with you." The words come out breathless as desire pools low in my belly.

His mouth hovers over mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. "One more time."

"I want?—"

His lips capture mine before I can finish, and everything else falls away. The kiss is both tender and demanding, gentle yet possessive. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him with a soft moan.

This is what I've been craving. To be cherished and corrupted at the same time. To feel precious and filthy in the same heartbeat. His hands tighten in my hair and on my waist as he deepens the kiss and I can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses me against the mirror. The cool glass contrasts sharply with the heat of his body. His hands grip my hips, bunching the delicate fabric of my dress.

My heart pounds against my ribs as his fingers trace patterns on my thighs. The reverent way he touches me makes me feel precious, even as his darkened eyes promise me his rough desires.

"My bride," he whispers against my skin. "My accomplice. My little star."

Those words shouldn't affect me this way. This isn't how I should be feeling right now. But when he holds me like this—like I'msomething rare and precious he wants to both protect and defile—I can't remember why I ever tried fighting these feelings.

His hand pulls me closer and I arch into his touch. The mirror is cool against my back through the dress. My fingers clutch at his shoulders, needing him closer.

"Tell me you want this," he demands softly, his voice thicker with desire.

"I want this," I breathe. "I want you."

His responding growl of approval sends shivers down my spine. When his mouth claims mine again, I surrender completely to the kiss, to him, to everything I've been trying so hard to resist.

Vadim’s lipsbrush against the delicate silk of my dress, his breath warm through the fabric as he trails lower. My fingers fist in his hair, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. My heart hammers in my chest, the weight of his gaze kneeling before me making me feel both worshipped and exposed.

“Careful,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “We’ll need the dress for Paris.”

He looks up at me through his lashes, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. “I can ask Irina to make you another,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my thighs, bunching the fabric of the dress as he goes. “As many as you want, as many as I can ruin.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I bite my lip to stifle a moan. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both.” His fingers trace patterns on my inner thighs, making my breath hitch. “This is what you want, isn't it? To be proper and improper at the same time.”

"Yes."

His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the mirror. The cool glass presses against my back, contrasting sharply with the heat of his body. His lips find the delicate skin just above my knee, and I gasp.

“I’ve wanted this since the moment you walked into Mrs. Klossner’s, since the moment you sent me that tantalizing picture.” He confesses, his voice low and rough. “Do you remember what I said to you at dinner? What I wanted to do?”

I nod, my cheeks burning with every word.

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