Page 53 of Wicked Pursuit

Suspicion takes root. “Did you kill him?”

“No.” He chuckles in my ear. “I just... dissuaded... him from going to find you again.”

That could mean literally anything. “I don’t even remember how I got home that night.” I kept drinking and blacked out. Michelle was furious at me because apparently she’d turned around and I was gone. I squirm, relishing the feel of his cock inside me. “Was it you?”

“Yes. Eto bylo” He nips my earlobe. “You called me an angel and told me you loved me as I tucked you into bed.”

Humiliation threatens to drown me. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay, baby. I remember for both of us.” He keeps circling my clit as he starts to move, easing out of me and then thrusting slowly back into my ass. “That’s the night I knew you were mine. It was never going to be anyone else.”

I don’t know if that’s really creepy or romantic, but I’ll figure it out later. My body tightens with an impending orgasm even more intense than the last one. “Casimir,” I moan.

“Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” He doesn’t pick up his pace, doesn’t rush, doesn’t do anything but stalk my orgasm as carefully as he’s apparently been stalking me for years. “I always take care of what’s mine.”

I come. I don’t stand a chance of holding out, and I wasn’t even trying. Not this time.

Through it all, he keeps fucking me, murmuring how good I feel, how he loves to feel me come on his cock, how perfect my ass, my cunt, my body is. When I finally collapse onto the bed, too wrung out to move, he shifts back and grips my hips. Only then does he carefully pick up his pace until he’s driving into my ass in short, controlled thrusts. Even after coming so hard, I can’t help arching my back again, offering my ass to him, urging him to keep going. It feels so fucking good.

Everything he does to me feels good.

He pulls out abruptly and growls something in Russian as he comes all over my ass.

Then he scoops me up and hauls me to the shower. My legs are still wonky, so he sets me on the bench there as he gets the water going. I watch him dazedly. It feels like we left the real world behind, but that’s probably the endorphins lying to me. “This doesn’t solve anything.”

He sighs. “Baby, it’s simple. You love me. You’re too pissed to admit it right now, but it’s the truth.” He continues right over my shrill protest. “And I love you too. I don’t know how many fucking ways to say it: you’re mine. You were from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Casimir.” I suddenly feel like crying. “Even if that were true, it will never work. I don’t even know what you’re trying to accomplish. Carver City will never accept Romanov rule.”

He tugs me to my feet and beneath the spray. “Don’t give a fuck about Romanov rule. But I’m going to marry you, baby. You’re the heir. You rule. I’ll be your bloody right hand. Satisfies all parties.”

“Just like that.”

“No reason to complicate shit.” He catches my chin, his pale eyes somehow both chilled and heated at the same time. “You might not be ready to admit it, but you already made your decision. The other day. When you kept fucking me after you knew who I was. When you played primal games to taunt me. It’s just your pride holding you up right now.”

At this point, I don’t know if he’s right or not. I don’t know anything at all. Instead of answering or protesting orlying, I kiss him.

16

Casimir tenses as if he’ll just snarl at me, but then he lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. There’s a rush of hands and soap and rinsing each other off, and then he carries me to the bed and eats me out until I lose track of how many times I come. We fuck with the franticness of two people painfully aware of the clock ticking down on their reprieve. I can’t imagine a way this will work, and he doesn’t seem able to imagine a way it won’t.

There are no answers two days later, the rising sun bringing our time in this house to an end. Casimir disappears briefly and comes back to the room with our clothes and phones. We dress in silence, and fuck if I know what to do. Say goodbye? Keep arguing in circles?

I don’t protest when he takes my hand and leads me through the warren of hallways to the same door through which I entered a few days prior. It feels like a lifetime ago. There’s a fancy black sports car waiting, all sleek lines and predator vibes.

Casimir opens the door for me, his movements easy and downright habitual. How many times has he done the same thing as Luke? More than I can begin to count. “Let’s go.”

It doesn’t even occur to me to demand my own ride. I slide into the buttery leather seats and watch him walk around to the driver’s side.

It’s only as we exit through the gates that I turn to him. “Whatever plan your family has, it will never work. Even if I lost my mind and married you, the other heirs won’t follow suit.” Michelle wouldn’t know commitment if it bit her in the ass. Cassim is so uptight, I can’t imagine him having a whirlwind romance with an enemy. Talia is ruthless enough to slit someone’s throat if they try to take the territory that’s her birthright. We can’t even get Kiley to come out with us, let alone lose her head enough to marry a Romanov. There’s no established heir to the neutral territory that the Underworld stands in. “It won’t work.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

I glare. “My fathers will kill you.”

“They’ll try.” He shrugs. “But if you tell them you love me, they’ll pull their punches for fear of breaking their baby girl’s heart.”

“Stop saying that,” I hiss.

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