Page 75 of His Forced Bride
My pulse stutters. “I’m not your crutch, Yuri.”
“You’re more than…”
His voice dips lower, and his finger draws an invisible line on my forearm.
“You’re the one thing Kozlov can’t have. That makes you mine.”
I stiffen as he bites my skin near my wrist.
“I never agreed to belong to you.”
His teeth send a jolt to my core that has me feeling like I may melt all over his poor slacks.
“You think agreement matters?”
His hands slide over my hips, and I feel the heat of it through my slacks.
“If you truly wanted freedom from me, you wouldn’t still be here.”
My laugh is brittle.
“I’m here because your guards won’t let me leave.”
“Then why are your hands shaking?”
His tone cuts through me, and before I can answer, his thumb brushes the side of my wrist.
The gesture feels almost gentle, which only confuses me more.
“I hate you,” I whisper, clinging to the one truth that feels safe.
But I'm beginning to wonder if it's still the truth.
Because as I say it, something inside me feels the dissonance of it.
“I know.”
He leans close, the rasp of his beard scraping my cheek.
“So show me.”
His mouth finds the curve of my throat, and my fingers clutch at his shoulders.
His lips glide across my skin unhurriedly until I shiver from the heat pooling lower in my core.
“Yuri,” I breathe, but it sounds nothing like a warning.
I'm coming undone, and all it took was one fucking conversation with his maid to make me think of him as some sentimental fool.
What is wrong with me?
“Say it again,” he murmurs against my neck.
“Say you hate me…”
My body betrays me as his hand slips between us, gliding over the front of my trousers.
I arch instinctively, my breath catching.
