Page 95 of Shatter Me

"I love feeling you like this." Her voice is a husky whisper against my ear. "All that power and control and I get to unleash the real man beneath it."

Her words send a surge of need through me. I thrust harder, wanting to brand myself on her, mark her as mine. The force of my desire surprises me, but with Tash, I've learned to expect the unexpected.

Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer as she meets my rhythm. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, leaving marks that any suit or polo shirt won't hide. Not that I give a damn about that now. All that matters is this moment, this connection.

She tightens around me, her body beginning to shake as she speaks, her cries of pleasure filling the gallery space. I bury my face in her neck, holding on as my release washes over me, more intense than I've ever experienced.

We stay locked together for endless moments, our hearts pounding in tandem, our breath mingling. She runs her fingers through my hair, drawing me closer until our foreheads touch.

"I've never felt this way with anyone." Her eyes search mine. "It's almost terrifying."

I brush a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. "It's not something I can control anymore."

She raises an eyebrow. "Mr. Control is admitting a lack of control?"

"You've disarmed me, Tash." I kiss the tip of her nose. "Since the moment you slapped me across the face."

She grins. "You probably deserved it."

"I'll gladly take a slap from you any day." I punctuate my words with a gentle nip to her neck. "As long as this follows it."

She runs her fingers down my back. "I didn't think gangsters were into public make-out sessions."

"I'm not your typical gangster." I roll onto my back, drawing her on top of me. "Besides, it's not like this gallery hasn't seen some wild nights."

"True." She traces the contours of my chest with delicate fingers. "A little soirée for the Social Register. Maybe a theft or two."

I prop myself up on one elbow, my fingers drawing lazy patterns on her bare skin. "Imagine being caught in flagrante here by the cops."

"Scandalous." She nuzzles my neck. "Though I'd prefer not to end up in the tabloids. Bad for my professional reputation."

"No place for a curator of your caliber." I kiss her shoulder. "I wouldn't risk that."

Her eyes darken. "You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?"

I stare into her eyes, letting her see the truth. "Absolutely anything."

"Make love to me again," Tash whispers against my neck. "Here, all night. I want to feel you until sunrise."

Her words ignite something in me. I gather her closer, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my arms. "You know the security guards do rounds."

"Since when does Dmitri Ivanov care about rules?" She traces the scar near my temple. "You own half the board anyway."

I capture her wandering fingers, pressing a kiss to each one. "You're going to be the death of my reputation."

"Good." She straddles my lap, eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Time someone challenged the great puppet master."

Looking up at her, backlit by ancient artifacts and modern security lights, I'm struck by how much she's changed me. The walls I built after Mother's death, the careful control I maintained—all of it is crumbling under Tash's touch.

"You've ruined me," I utter, trailing kisses down her throat. "I used to pride myself on being untouchable."

She tilts my chin up, meeting my gaze. "And now?"

"Now, I never want to stop touching you." The truth spills from my lips before I can catch it. "You make me forget who I am, what I've done."

"No." She shakes her head. "I make you remember who you are. Beneath the suits and the power plays."

Her words pierce something deep inside me. With her, I'm not the calculating second son or the feared Ivanov brother. I'm just Dmitri, stripped of pretense and power games.

---