Page 19 of Shatter Me

“No way.” I grab a piece of bread, genuinely distracted now. “The whole collection? Even the Monets?”

“Especially the Monets. They found some modern pigments that shouldn’t exist in early Impressionist works.”

“That explains why Marcus was so cagey about letting anyone examine them up close.” I shake my head. “He’s going to lose his certification over this.”

“Good,” Sofia sniffs. “He’s been cutting corners for years. Remember that ‘recovered’ Degas he tried to push through last spring?”

“The one with historically inaccurate ballet shoes? That was painful to watch.” I sip some water. “Though not as painful as watching Rebecca try to network at the Met gala.”

Sofia stifles a laugh. “She cornered poor Thomas Getty for forty-five minutes talking about her revolutionary new gallery concept.”

“You mean her Instagram-worthy wall colors and overpriced coffee bar?” I roll my eyes. “Because that’s never been done before.”

The familiar rhythm of art world gossip helps steady my nerves. However, I still feel Dmitri’s presence like a physical weight across the table.

“You should check out the library,” Sofia suggests as we clear the dishes. “We’ve got first editions that would make you drool.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?” I tease, but the thought of rare books is tempting.

“Please, you know me better. I just can’t stand watching you pretend not to look at our extensive collection whenever you visit.”

She’s right—I’ve been eyeing those shelves since my first visit. “Fine, you win. Point me in the right direction?”

“Down the hall, third door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

The library is amazing—floor-to-ceiling shelves, leather-bound volumes, and that intoxicating old book smell. My fingers trail along the spines as I browse, discovering treasures that would make any collector envious.

I don’t hear him enter, but do feel Dmitri’s presence fill the room. My body tenses, recognizing him before I even turn around.

“Find anything interesting?” His voice is low, intimate in the quiet space.

I try to step back, but I’m already against the shelves. He moves closer, one hand bracing against the books beside my head.

"Dmitri—"

His mouth captures mine, cutting off whatever protest I was about to make. The kiss is hungry and demanding, nothing like the controlled man I’m used to seeing. His body presses against mine, pinning me to the shelves, and I can feel how much he wants me.

I should push him away. Instead, my hands fist in his sweater, pulling him closer as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. He groans, the sound vibrating against my skin as his free hand grips my hip.

The hard length of him pushes against my stomach, making me gasp. His kisses grow more urgent, devouring like he’s been holding back for too long.

I gasp as Dmitri’s lips leave mine to trail down my neck. His grip on my hip tightens possessively, sending shivers through my body. The shelves press into my back as he holds me in place.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he breathes against my skin with a thicker accent than usual. “How you challenge me in meetings, how you hold your ground.” His teeth graze my pulse point. “Such fire, such defiance.”

I try to steady my breathing but fail miserably as he continues his assault on my senses. The scent of his cologne mixed with the leather from the books, surrounds me.

“Every time you walk into a room,” he whispers roughly in my ear, “I want to show everyone exactly who you belong to.” His thumb traces circles on my hip. “Want to mark you as mine, so there’s no question.”

The possessiveness in his voice should frighten me. Instead, it sends heat coursing through my veins. His other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck.

“Tell me you don’t feel this, too,” he demands softly. “Tell me that I’m imagining how perfectly we fit together.”

I can’t form words, can barely think straight with his lips moving against my skin. The predator I’ve been trying to avoid has me exactly where he wants me, and the scariest part is how right it feels.

“The things I want to do to you,kukolka,” he breathes against my ear. “The ways I want to break that perfect control of yours.”

“No—don’t—” I protest, even as my body sings in response to his wicked words. My pulse flutters under his lips as his teeth nip gently.

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