Page 50 of His Darkest Obsession
Then, and only then, does his piercing blue eyes glance at me. The corner of his mouth tugs up ever so slightly.
Suddenly, I can feel his mouth between my legs again. The wet heat of his tongue against my throbbing clit and slick folds. Thestrength of his fingers pushing my legs open and the unexpected tenderness of his touch when they brush the scars on my thighs.
And his voice, deep and low, rumbling with every word.
“When I find out who he is, I will give you his hands.”
My thighs squeeze together beneath the table, and I feel my underwear growing damp from an embarrassingly familiar wetness. My fingers tighten around the knife and fork in my hands, and I force myself to breathe slowly and evenly as heat walks up my neck, my cheeks, and my ears.
“What’s so funny?” I force the words out at him.
“Yuliya asked you if you would like some wine.” He tilts his chin to my right and I look up and see the young woman standing there with a bottle ready to pour.
How long has she been there? When did she even ask? Had I been so taken by Anatoly’s every move that I can’t even hear anymore?
“Um, yes. Just a bit. If you don’t mind.” I nod at the woman, and she starts pouring.
A few moments later, the staff bows and shuffles out of the room, and I’m left alone with Anatoly.
“After you,printsessa.” He puts down his knife and gestures with his hand.
I look down at the food in front of me.
The steak before me is perfectly seared and still pink in the middle. Any other time, I'd be salivating. Now, my stomach starts twisting itself into shapes I didn’t think were possible as I look at it.
And he expects me to justeatafter what we just did?
My hands don’t move, and I steal a glance at Anatoly.
"I'm not hungry." The lie slips out easily enough.
And then my body betrays me again, and my stomach rumbles loudly enough for him to cock a single eyebrow up.
"Is the food not to your liking?"
No, the food is fine. It’s the fact that I can’t take a bite without thinking about your mouth between my legs.
Instead, I push the perfectly cooked steak around my plate and tell him, "I'm just not used to dining with a criminal."
Anatoly's face hardens. The man who’d just made me come apart upstairs disappears, and now I find myself staring at the dangerous pakhan who'd killed three men in front of me without hesitation.
But maybe I prefer that. Because the former, I don’t know how I can deal with. But the latter?
I can handle the latter.
"Is that whatreallytroubles you?" His carries an edge. "That I'm a criminal?"
I lift my chin. "Aren’t you?"
Anatoly picks up his knife and starts cutting his steak. His movement is controlled and deliberate as he works.
“You’re lying,printsessa,” he says. “I know you’re lying because I know that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about what wejust did, same as me. It’s why you picked the most unflattering outfit possible for dinner.”
He glances at me briefly and my breath halts in my throat. Then, he returns to sawing at the steak in front of him.
“You picked it because you think that if you make yourself look unflattering, it means that I won’t want to strip it all away and repeat what we did.” He brings the meat to his lips, chews and swallows, before he continues. “You think that if you can just hide your scars, I won’t want to ask about them.”
My hand tightens around the knife and fork as he lays his down.
