Page 94 of Brutal Reign
I push back the covers and slip out of bed, my bare feet silent on the wood floor as I pad toward his room.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
HOPE
Some decisions feel inevitable,like you’ve been walking toward them your whole life without knowing it. That’s how it feels as I slip through the quiet hallway, out of the room where Kin sleeps, toward the man who’s changed the course of my life more than he’ll ever realize.
I haven’t been inside his room before. It’s only a few doors down the hall from mine and Kin’s. So close, and yet it feels like entering another dimension.
Pavel’s door isn’t fully closed, and I take it as a sign that maybe I’m not completely losing my mind by being here. But when I step inside, the room is empty.
Whether he’s painting or drowning himself in work, he’ll have to come back here eventually. And when he does, I’ll be waiting. The magnetic pull I feel toward him has grown impossible to ignore—stronger than fear, stronger than reason—and I’m no longer sure if I’m here for his sake or my own.
The space is masculine and orderly. Dark wood floors are softened by a massive area rug, and heavy curtains frame the floor-to-ceiling windows. A king-sized bed dominates the room,and for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to share it with him, to wake up wrapped in his arms instead of a dinosaur-themed twin bed.
I run my fingers along his dresser, where a few personal items catch my eye. A vintage Rolex. A few Russian paperbacks. A small framed photo that I pick up and carry toward the window for a better look.
There are four people in the picture—a family. A teenage Pavel stands beside a tall, blonde woman with the same smile as him and a broad, dark-haired man. Standing in front of Pavel is a little girl with a mischievous smile and clear blue eyes. Kamilla.
I turn, letting a slash of light fall across her picture. God, those eyes look so much like Kin’s. How has Pavel not noticed? Unless he has… but why hasn’t he asked me about it? Either he’s in denial, or he knows on some level and is waiting for me to tell him.
Guilt grips me. He’s good to Kin, and good to me, but that doesn’t erase who he is or what he’s done. If I don’t stay strong, I’ll never know the true meaning of freedom.
The sound of running water draws my attention to a door across the room, light seeping out from underneath. I replace the photo and move quietly toward what must be his bathroom, pushing the door open enough to peek inside.
The moment I do, I’m hit with a wall of thick, steamy air. The steady rhythm of running water fills the space, and through the frosted glass of the shower enclosure, I make out a large silhouette that is unmistakably Pavel’s.
Shit. I should go. He didn’t invite me here. In fact, he made it clear he needed space. Except, I don’t really care. For once in my life, I don’t overthink what comes next.
My hands move to the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head. My panties hit the floor next. With a steadying breath, Ireach for the shower door handle and pull it open before I can chicken out.
My heart stutters as I drink him in. Pavel. Completely, gloriously naked.
Water cascades over his sculpted body, highlighting the intricate tattoos that cover his chest and arms. His hand is wrapped around his very big, very erect cock.
Holy shit.
His eyes snap open, locking onto mine. Instead of embarrassment or surprise, a slow predatory smile spreads across his face. His eyes darken, his gaze traveling down my body with an appreciation that makes my skin burn.
“Hope,” he says, his voice like gravel. “I was just thinking about you.” He drags his fist up the length of his cock, slow and languid, never breaking eye contact.
Every inch of me lights up in response, my nipples hardening and my core tightening in need. He doesn’t stop stroking himself, doesn’t cover up or turn around. He watches me with those ice-gray eyes, looking like a Viking god come to life, all hard muscle and primal masculinity, with water running in rivulets over the planes and valleys of his abs.
Abs that I want to explore with my tongue.
Pavel’s smile deepens as he reads the desire on my face. “Are you going to stand there or join me in here?”
His invitation feels like a dare. My mouth goes dry, and desire swirls low and lazy in my belly. I didn’t know what version of Pavel to expect, but whatever demons he was wrestling with earlier seem to have been exorcised, and the man in front of me is looking for another kind of absolution entirely.
If he wants to play, I’m ready.
I lift my chin and meet his gaze. “I think I will.”
Without breaking eye contact, I step into the shower, immediately enveloped by steam and the scent of cedar. Theshower’s large enough that we don’t have to touch, but we stand barely inches apart. His fist has frozen mid-stroke, and his pupils are blown wide with heat.
I pretend to ignore him, though that’s impossible. I pump a bit of his expensive-smelling soap into my hand and begin spreading it over my skin: down my throat, over my breasts, across my stomach.
