Page 58 of Konstantin
I’ve clearly lost my mind. Only an insane person would find this romantic.
His fingers stroke my clit once more, gently now. Teasing. Soothing.
Another man starts to speak, and my eyes roll back.
I doubt any one of them would be stupid enough to say a word. Ever again. Terror clings to the room like humidity, thick and choking.
But not to me. Because beneath the chaos, something else curls in my chest. Something dark and twisted.
Something that feels like gratitude.
For once, someone didn’t just protect me. They avenged me.
How many times did I wish someone would do that growing up? That someone would kill the monsters who hurt me when I was younger? But no one ever came. Not until that last time when Nate took me away.
He doesn’t care about you, Emilia. You’re nothing to a man like Konstantin Marinov. And you don’t want to be.
But even as I tell myself that, the way he touches me makes me forget why this is wrong. Slow, possessive circles at my entrance are like a silent command that he still owns me in this moment.
And my body? My traitorous body doesn’t care what my mind screams. It winds tighter and tighter, desperate for the release only he can give.
Every breath I take is shallow. Every nerve is pulled taut. He works me expertly, like he knows exactly what I need and how to hold it just out of reach until I’m nearly weeping for him.
The room fades. The voices around us become muffled noise. The tension, the danger, the obscene audacity of it all…it rattles through me like a raging earthquake.
My thighs tremble. My breath stutters. My eyes flutter shut for half a second too long, the pleasure dragging me under like a riptide.
My climax rips through me in a blinding rush, and I cling to him, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his thigh.
My jaw clenches, holding in the scream that wants to tear free. My body jerks once, twice, hips straining against his hand as I ride it out in pure silence. His head tilts toward mine, his breath a wicked brand against my skin as he pulls his fingers away with a soft, wet sound.
“You’re perfect when you come for me.” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “Don’t hide it. Let them all see you’re mine.”
I’m not yours!I want to scream out loud, but I’m too far gone.
His hand returns to my thigh and he keeps it there, like a chain. And in this moment, with his scent all over me, my body still shivering from the aftershock, I know one terrifying truth.
If I’m not careful, I won’t just belong to him. I’llwantto.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMILIA
We returnto the hotel room, and my back is to him as I open my luggage.
My fingers hover at the zipper like they’re trying to remember how to work, like I’m just another woman shaken by what happened. Nervous. Fidgety. Quiet.
That’s how someone who saw what I did would behave. Someone normal. Someone who isn’t used to watching a man get shot in the middle of a business meeting like it’s just another line item on the agenda.
Okay, fine, so maybe that’s the first time I’ve witnessed a death during a meeting, but I’ve seen quite a few murders in my line of work. Even committed one.
His footsteps are slow behind me, his palm landing on my forearm, heavy and warm. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I almost laugh. Is this a joke? Does the murderous Bratva bosswant to unpack my feelings now? Maybe offer a shoulder to cry on? It’s absurd.
But maybe this could be my way of getting to know him better, and anything I learn is a potential weapon that I intend to use.
I slowly drop my hands away from the suitcase and turn. He’s standing just inches away, his eyes heavy with something that feels too close to softness, which is quite the opposite of what he is.
