Page 31 of Crimson Sin
She rounds the corner toward the guest suite where she's been sleeping, but I grab her wrist and steer her toward my room instead. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers, quick and fluttering like a trapped bird. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she realizes what I'm doing.
“Daniil—what?—”
My grip tightens just enough to stop her protests. “You know exactly what.”
We've been dancing around this since the night in the garden, since that first kiss that shattered every boundary. But tonight, Viktor's challenge has stripped away my patience for games and half-measures. I back her against the nearest wall, pressing into her space until her breath stutters. The coolness of the marble behind her clashes with the fire burning in my chest, and I pin her there between the two extremes. My hands find her hips, my fingers digging into her gown as I trap her against the wall with my body.
She looks up at me, her chest rising and falling quickly. “You're angry.”
“Of course I'm angry,” I hiss. “I'm furious.”
Her lips part, words forming, but I don't give her the chance to speak. I don't want her rational thoughts or her careful questions. I want her raw, honest, and mine. My mouth crashes down on hers. It's not a soft, sweet kiss. It's not the exploration we shared in the garden. It's a claim.
She gasps into the kiss, the sound sharp with surprise, and I take advantage, sliding my tongue past her lips, devouring the protest she never finishes. Her hands push once at my chest, but then they're gripping my jacket, holding on as I press harder and deeper.
She tastes like champagne and danger, like the future I never thought I'd want and the past I can't escape. Her mouth is soft and yielding beneath mine, but there's strength beneath the submission that matches my own intensity.
She moans when I bite her lower lip, and the sound unravels the last thread of control I'd been clinging to. The beast I keep leashed with discipline and icy restraint breaks free, and all I can think about is marking her and making sure every man in Chicago knows she's mine.
I lift her, one hand sliding under her thigh to hook her leg around my hip. Her body molds to mine like it was always meant to fit here. Her gown rides up, exposing the smooth skin of her thigh, and I can't stop myself from running my palm over the soft flesh.
My other hand fists in her hair, undoing the elegant twist and letting the auburn strands fall around her shoulders. The pins scatter across the marble floor with tiny clinking sounds, but Idon't care. I want her undone. I want to see her as wild and desperate as I feel.
“Tell me to stop,” I growl against her mouth, the words scraping past my throat like broken glass. “Right now. If you don't want this, Naomi, tell me to walk away.”
Her response is breathless. “You're not walking away.”
The certainty in her voice and the complete absence of fear or hesitation destroy whatever remains of my self-control. I don't walk away. I carry her across the room, my lips never leaving hers, tasting her surrender and desire.
The bedroom door slams shut behind us, cutting off the rest of the world, creating a space where only we exist. I drop her onto the bed, and she bounces lightly against the dark bedding, her hair splayed like fire across the black silk pillows.
For a moment, I just look at her. The black silk gown is twisted around her thighs, revealing glimpses of pale skin that make my mouth go dry. Her chest rises with every uneven breath, the diamonds at her throat glittering with each movement. Her lips are red and swollen from my kisses, her eyes wild with anticipation. The necklace glints in the low light, reminding me of everything she's pretending to be and everything she's agreed to become for me.
But this, right now, is real. She's real. And she’s mine.
I shrug out of my jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of fabric. My shirt follows, buttons scattering as I tear it off with impatient hands. Her eyes trace every scar and inked mark across my torso. She sees all of it. The Bratva tattoos that tell the story of my rise to power, the faded burn near my ribs from a rival's attempt to kill me, the jagged scar slashing across my sidefrom a knife fight when I was nineteen and still proving myself. My past, written on skin for anyone brave enough to look. And she doesn't look away.
Instead, she sits up, reaching behind her neck for the clasp of her gown. The zipper slides down with a whisper of metal on fabric, and the dress slips from her shoulders, revealing the graceful curve of her collarbones and the swell of her breasts. The diamond necklace falls with it, tumbling into her lap as the silk pools at her waist like spilled ink.
I step between her knees, sliding my fingers up her bare thighs, feeling the way she trembles beneath my touch. Her skin is soft and warm as sunlight, everything my world isn't.
She reaches for me, her fingers tracing the tattoos across my chest, following the lines of Cyrillic script that spell out my loyalty to the brotherhood, and the code that's governed my life since I was old enough to understand what it meant to be a Zorin.
Nudging her onto her back, I trail kisses from her neck to her collarbone, working my way down to her breasts. My lips slide across her creamy flesh, sucking on her pebbled nipples. Naomi caresses my back, sighing with pleasure as I tease her.
I trail my fingers across her stomach and down her thighs while sucking on her nipples. She groans as I do it again and again, alternating nipples and kissing the skin of her breasts. My cock throbs, pushing against the front of my pants, begging for release. I feel her fingers gripping it through my pants, stroking it as it becomes impossibly hard.
“I want you inside me,” she pants, biting her lower lip.
“Not yet,krasavitsa,” I murmur against her breasts. “Soon.”
I lower my head and drag my mouth down her body, kissing a path to her stomach. When I reach the edge of her black lace panties, I hook my fingers beneath the waistband and peel them off slowly, watching her squirm. Then I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. With the other, I wrap the lace around them and tie her wrists together, rough but careful.
“Mine,” I growl, fastening the knot. “Every part of you.”
Her eyes go wide, a sharp inhale slipping past her parted lips as surprise melts into shock and desire. Spreading her legs apart, I kneel between them. I kiss the inside of her thighs, working my way higher with each touch of my lips. Heat radiates from her core, drawing me in like a magnet. I lower my mouth and slide my tongue between her folds, tasting her sweetness. The sound that escapes her lips is a breathy, desperate moan, and it nearly undoes me.
Gripping her hips firmly, I bury my face between her thighs and devour her like I’ve been starving for this. My tongue plunges deep into her pussy, then moves up to circle her clit with slow, deliberate strokes. I trail my mouth lower, tasting every inch of her until I reach the tight, puckered entrance of her ass. I lick and suck without hesitation, and she arches beneath me, legs wrapping around my head as she begs for more without saying a word.
