Page 48 of Unveiled

The ground seems to shift under my feet. My silky bathrobe slips loose as his hands skim up my sides. I push against his chest, unable to stop him because Ineedto feel him. I need him to brand me, claim me, mark me with his touch so when I wake alone in bed and remember thatSemyon Kopolovis my husband, I can convince myself this is real.

"I can't fight you anymore," I whisper, my voice trembling. "Maybe I don't want to."

It feels like I've stepped into the world of adulting, admitting that I want him. I want to feel his hot, branding touch all over my body. I want him to make me tremble beneath him. I want to feel himinme.

He groans as my lips graze his skin, and I reach for his waistband. His fingers tighten in my hair, a low curse slipping from his lips as he stares down at me.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "My entire world was ordered neat in a box, in a row. And then you came in and smashed it all to hell."

"How romantic."

He groans again, and it feels like victory. He brushes his mouth against mine. Tentatively, I reach for his glasses and gently push them up his face so I can stroke his cheek, unencumbered. I cup his jaw, loving the way his stubble pricks my palm.

He kisses me back.

"I need you," he whispers. "I have to have you, Anya. I'm afraid if I wait much longer, I won't be able to be as gentle with you as you need your first time."

My heart aches as a lump forms in my throat. He's showing a side of himself that might break through every fortress I've built.

"I need you too," I whisper back.

Then he's lifting me. My legs wrap around his torso, his thick length pressing up against my bare pussy. My silk robe does nothing to hide me from him. He's kissing me as if he needs me to breathe again, and I'm kissing him back.

Semyon wants me.

He wants me so badly. He lays me down, taking a moment to stare at me, and I can tell he likes what he sees.

Leaning on one elbow, he explores the length of my body with a touch that borders on worship, leaving goosebumps and heat in his wake—a contradiction that feels so damn right. Brushing his fingers through my hair, he gives it another tug, before he kisses my temple, kisses my lips. He inhales me as he works his way down my body until he reaches my breasts.

Everything in me rises to meet him—my hopes, my dreams,my body.

My breasts feel heavy and full, and heat pools between my legs as he laps at one hardened bud and flicks his thumb across the other.

"Do you like that?" he whispers, his brow creased with curiosity.

This is Semyon. Cataloging. Noting.

I can't make peace with the fact that this is the boy I loved—the one I thought I would hate forever. And now I'm surrendering to him. But that was then, and this is now.

"Yes, I like it.” I tug his hair. “Do it again."

His hand cracks across the fullness of my ass.

"Ask politely."

Oh god.

"Do it again, please. Please, Semyon."

"Better."

He trails the length of my body down between my legs. "Spread your legs."

I let my legs fall apart, giving him access to my slick heat. I moan when thick fingers find my folds, and he stifles a groan himself.

"Fucking gorgeous," he breathes out.

We're going to do this.

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