Page 44 of Dirty Grovel

I gasp, too, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel the drumbeat ringing in my ears.

God help me.

As Oleg straightens, I recoil into the shadows. When he’s not looking, I rush back into my room and shut the balcony door.

That little show should have satisfied me in some way. But in reality, it’s only unsettled me further. I feel more restless, more listless than ever.

I pace my room, writhing around in my own skin, wishing that I had more to grab hold of, more to satiate the burning desire in the pit of my stomach.

Too many times, I march to my room door, on the verge of going downstairs and finding Oleg.

But I stop myself every time.

Instead, I leave my room door unlocked, hoping that maybe he will come to me.

But my subconscious call doesn’t work.

He never comes.

15

OLEG

It’s been three nights sincethenight.

My body is still thrumming with frustrated need after what I’d experienced by the pool. I wake up with that memory every morning and I go to bed with that memory each fucking night. It’s taken on the steely edge of torture.

Sutton’s silhouette against the stars.

Her breathy moans.

That desirous little gasp that carried all the way down to me from her balcony.

It haunts me like a fever dream.

And it doesn’t seem to matter what I do or how busy I make myself; I can’t seem to escape her.

It’s starting to become a real problem.

Being this distracted is not good for business. Now more than ever, I need to have a clear head, I need to make sound judgements. My priorities have never been clearer.

This business with Lipovsky and the Martineks won’t wait for me to sort out my messy feelings about a woman who may or may not be carrying my child.

That’s the main reason I organized this trip to Florida. Yes, I have business here, but it’s more about getting some space from Sutton.

Not that we share much space even when I’m in Nassau. I’ve done a great job of avoiding her like the plague.

That night by the pool was the one exception. We weren’t even close, but the mere sight of each other had driven us both to dangerous territory.

I can’t give in to my lust for Sutton.

The last time I did that, I regretted it.

And since the paternity test results have still not come in, I have even more reason to keep my distance and sort out my chaotic thoughts.

The moment my yacht docks in the Miami harbor, Artem climbs aboard. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s wearing the biggest smile as he rushes aboard and grabs me in a bear hug.

“Yo, brother! It’s been a minute,” he booms, clapping me on the back.

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