Page 37 of Legacy Of Ashes
"I know." But she doesn't step away. Doesn't stop looking at me like she wants to drop to her knees right here in the hallway.
"Miss Kavanagh?" One of the staff calls from the front entrance.
"Coming," she calls back, voice steady despite what just happened between us.
She straightens her dress, composing herself like the perfect crime princess she is. But I see the flush on her cheeks, the wayher nipples press against silk. I know she's wet for me right now, and I have to watch another man try to claim her.
In the dining room, I stand behind Tiernan's chair where I can watch everything while fighting the urge to adjust my still-hard cock. Watching her with Petrov will be torture, but I can't look away.
Valentin Petrov enters like he owns the place. Tall, broad, confident in that way rich men are when they think money can buy anything. His eyes find Saoirse immediately, and the hunger in them makes me want to put my fist through his face.
"Saoirse." He takes her hand, pressing his lips to her skin in a kiss that lasts too long.
My hand moves to my gun without conscious thought. The image of her beneath him, crying out in pleasure while he fucks what should be mine, floods my mind with rage.
"Valentin." Her smile never wavers, but I catch the slight tension in her shoulders. "Welcome."
His bodyguard brings forward gifts—diamond earrings that would look stunning against her skin while she rides my cock, and leather-bound books that show he's done his research.
"Beautiful," she says, examining the diamonds.
All I can think about is how they'd sparkle while I have her bent over this very table, taking her from behind while she moans my name.
During dinner, Petrov regales her with stories of Russia, his estate, the life he could give her. Every word feels like a knife twisting in my gut.
"My home has a library you'd love," he tells her over wine. "Fifteen thousand volumes. We could spend hours discussing literature."
Hours. I imagine him spending hours between her thighs instead, making her come in ways I've only dreamed about.
"That sounds wonderful," she replies, playing her part.
But when she reaches for her wine glass, her fingers brush mine as I pour. The contact sends electricity straight to my cock. She feels it too—I see her breath hitch, see the way she presses her thighs together.
"Your daughter is remarkable," Petrov tells Niamh during dessert. "Beautiful, intelligent, refined. Our children would be extraordinary."
Children. Saoirse swollen with his child. Her perfect breasts heavy with milk. Her body claimed by another man in the most primal way possible.
My vision goes red. I want to vault over this table and tear his throat out with my bare hands.
"Marriage requires careful consideration," Niamh says diplomatically.
"Of course." Petrov's eyes never leave Saoirse. "I'm a patient man when it comes to things I want."
The possessive way he says it makes my blood boil. Like she's already his. Like I don't exist.
Saoirse's eyes find mine across the room, and the desperation I see there nearly breaks me. She's trapped, and we both know it. Duty demands she consider this alliance, even as every cell in her body wants to run to me instead.
"I'm honored by your proposal," she says with perfect grace. "Such decisions require family discussion."
Smart. Diplomatic. Everything a crime princess should be. But I see her pulse racing, see the way she keeps glancing at me like I'm her lifeline.
After dinner, Petrov requests a private moment on the terrace. I have to let him take her out there, alone, while every instinct screams to follow.
Through the glass doors, I watch him touch her arm. See him lean close, whispering in her ear. My cock throbs with jealousrage as I imagine what he's saying. How he wants to touch her. What he'd do to her on their wedding night.
When his hand slides down to her lower back, possessive and familiar, I have to grip the doorframe to keep from charging out there.
Twenty minutes of torture before they return. Saoirse looks composed but pale. Petrov appears smug, satisfied with whatever promises he extracted.
