Page 77 of Gloves Off

His fingers reach the valley between my breasts. Blood whistles in my ears, but I lift a hand and fake a yawn.

His lips come to my shoulder, stubble brushing my skin as I burn hotter. “A bow on each ankle like you’re pretending to be a good girl or something.” I shiver, and he makes a low noise of amusement. “Like that, do you, Hellfire? You like being called a good girl?”

The wordsgood girlmake my stomach dip. “No. I hate it.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m bored.” My full focus narrows to his lips following my neckline, moving down my chest. Between my legs, heat swirls, and—oh god—I’m actually wet.

This horrible game is actually turning me on. It’s not possible. There’s no way.

His fingers hook into my neckline and he pulls it down an inch, lips latching onto the sensitive skin between my breasts before he sucks. My eyes close, but I don’t dare make a sound. I’d never give him that satisfaction.

“Last chance,” he says, voice low and rasping, his eyes are dark like sin. Dark like midnight. Pupils blown wide, eyes glazed with desire.

“It’s okay if you’ve never gotten past this part.” My voice comes out breathier than I meant. This level of adrenaline in my bloodstream can’t be healthy. “I’ll point out where the clit is.”

He gives a short, unamused laugh before he drags my neckline down more, taking my bra cup with it, and pulls the stiff peak of my nipple between his lips.

My teeth clench at the intense sweep of pleasure through me as he sucks. Every roll and slide of his tongue on my breast tugs at my clit, like there’s a cord between the two. My panties are wet. My heart races harder than ever. Alexei Volkov, supreme asshole and controlling dickhead, has my nipple in his mouth, but I’m finding it difficult to care. This feels too good to string thoughts together.

His hand comes to my thigh, skimming over me, sending goosebumps across my skin. I vaguely remember wondering if the slit in this dress was appropriate for a work event.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “You hate me.”

“I do hate you.” He doesn’t look away. Why is that so hot? “But I still want to fuck you.”

“Maybe I should go get Dr. Handsome,” I say for some reason. I like playing with fire, I guess.

His gaze sharpens. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His hand slips higher, pressing between my legs, over my damp panties, and hot, delicious sensation shoots through me.

Holy hell. Volkov and I are actually messing around right now. My body responds, insides turning molten, blood thickening, and intimate muscles clenching around nothing.

A low, stifled noise of pleased surprise rumbles in his chest. God, he’s tall. So broad, towering, and powerful. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of my panties. Immediately, he finds my clit, working it with the perfect friction. My knees wobble at the growing ache, and I bite back a moan.

It’s not because of him. I’ve never done this kind of thing with all my colleagues in the next room. It’s a thrill. Perhaps I’m an exhibitionist.

Clarity slices through my blurred thoughts. “Anyone could see.”

His strong throat works, eyes clouded with lust as his fingers work tight circles that make me feel like I might explode.

“After what just happened, do you think anyone would be surprised to find me in here, fucking my wife?”

Another shocking clench of heat. With his free hand, Volkov reaches for the door we just came through, flips the lock, before he waits, not moving, just watching me, breathing hard, searching my eyes.

“Tell me to stop, Hellfire.”

Inside me, something snaps. I want to fuck him, too, and it’s not just this messed-up game we’re playing. I want to make him lose control. Every time he looks at me, I want him to remember that the woman he finds so repulsive made him lose it.

“This is just sex,” I whisper.

We need to relieve the tension so we can spend the rest of this fake marriage ignoring each other. There’s no way I’m going to come from this, withhim,but the urge is still there, shoving me forward.

“What else would it be?”

“Just so we’re clear.”

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