Page 34 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
“Yes, well, it will never happen.” I lean over to place my glass and plate on the nightstand. Then I proceed to shimmy beneath the luxurious blankets. With my back to him, I yawn for real and make a show of closing my eyes. “Nighty night. See you again, never. Try not to make too much noise on your way out. I’m a very—”
“Light sleeper,” he finishes, but I can’t escape the sense that it sounds more mocking than insightful. Like he knows some delicious secret I don’t regarding my sleep.
Back off, Tiffy.
“Night!” I slam a blanket over my head and settle down in earnest. Before I drift off, I send up a prayer that I’ll wake up in time to catch my flight.Amen.
And that once I land in California, I’ll magically forget all about Vadim and his kink.
Amen, amen.
A girl can dream.
Chapter Thirteen
Iwake up with roughly two hours to get dressed and hustle to the airport—which is the good news. The bad news is that I wake up so content that I think I’m in a dream at first. A dream so sensual and relaxing that it couldn’t possibly be real. It stars my naked body and someone’s hand on my ass. A hand composed of slim fingers that involuntarily stroke me every now and again as if its owner can’t keep his hands off me even in his sleep.
That’s why I woke up. I’m so damn horny that my brain couldn’t cope, instinctively knowing that something is horribly wrong. Because the hand is very real, I realize as I tentatively arch my back and said fingers grope me in response. Not to mention that the owner’s smell is so damn signature that there is no mistaking his identity.
It’sVadim’shand.
Crap.I blink my eyes open to the darkened hotel room. Someone drew the courtesy blinds closed after I went to bed. That same person, no doubt, rearranged the pillows and neatly tucked the blankets over us both. My mouth drops open. The bastard had the sheer gall to climb beneath them with me as if we were a normal couple after a normal night of normal sex.
The worst part is how damn beautiful he looks. Watching him deeply asleep should be a crime against humanity. He looks so…vulnerable for once, with his dark lashes fanning his cheekbones and his curls framing his face like a corrupted halo. But that vulnerability lasts up until the moment my gaze falls over his mouth, still fixed in that surly, mistrustful line. Even in his sleep, the man has his wall up.
Get out of here, Tiffy.I tear my gaze away from him and creep into the bathroom. There I take the quickest whore bath imaginable, and then I find my way through the dark to fish out the one outfit I refuse to leave behind—a black, red, and white checkered tweed suit and skirt ensemble with a frothy white blouse to go underneath. For good measure, I find a beautiful black clutch too incredible to risk abandoning. Then I tiptoe toward the door of the suite in a pair of black block heels.
A sigh of relief escapes me once I clear the minefield of clothing boxes. Paces from the door, I eagerly reach out for the handle, and I’m home free.
Until a deep, sexily husky voice rings out, “I’m afraid to inform you that your flight has been canceled.”
I whirl around to find Vadim still in bed, a lazy smirk playing over his lips, visible even in the dark. His eyes practically glow with amusement, and I flick the nearest light switch, robbing him of the mystery of shadow to hide behind. The action backfires—gosh, he looks more mouthwatering in the dim glow cast by one of the bedside lamps. The sight of his bare chest makes me groan—the gleaming, chiseled panes practically demand further exploration. With my fingers. With my mouth.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts, blinking to refocus. “W-Why? I mean, how do you even know that?”
He extends his arms and casually laces his fingers together behind his head, leaning back against the pillows. “Because I took the liberty of canceling it.”
Shock makes me sway, all tension of my potential escape dashed. I feel along the wall until I reach a leather-backed chair and collapse onto it.
“Why?”
“Why?” He inclines his head, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t typically allow people to steal from me.”
I scoff. “You don’t own me.” But he does own this dress. And this purse. And these shoes… Clearing my throat, I rush to add, “And you can bill me for the clothing. I’ll pay it off.”
Internally, I’m screaming. Realistically Icouldpay it off…if I sold my body for a few years into sexual slavery. Even my trust fund wouldn’t cut it, nor my alimony. Theoretically, I could always ask my parents to cover maybe a teensy, weensy fraction—a few grand at least. But the guilt would eat me alive, so that’s a no.
Sexual slavery it is.
“Money was not the agreed upon price,” Vadim says, his tone scolding. My ass smarts in memory of his “punishment,” and I hate myself. How is it possible for someone to switch from icy cool to sexy dark so easily? “I will take my payment in full,” he adds as if aware of his effect on me.
“Payment,” I grouse. “Dinner with your brother? Are you that afraid of going alone?”
What I intend to sound taunting lands with a thud when he nods.
“Yes,” he says unapologetically. “I am. Maxim and I can rarely occupy the same space without…unpleasantries.”
Minus the one night I accompanied him, and we scored two presents out of it. Sighing, I lean forward and tap my chin as if mulling over the prospect—which I’m not. A week is far too long to stay here, away from home. Far too long to stay within the orbit of such a dangerous man. I’ve already lost my brain around him—twice. No siree can that happen again.
