Page 89 of Hunter's Revenge

“Is she sleeping?”

“She went to bed a few hours ago but asked for a notebook to sketch her designs, so there’s a chance she’s still awake.”

“Alright, I’d better go up. I’ll see you in the morning. Please don’t work all night.”

“I won’t.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

I take my leave and head up to my room. Before I reach the door, I see the room light shining from underneath it, suggesting Gwen is still awake.

I open the door and find her sitting on the chair by the window, sketching something in her notepad. When she sees me, she lifts her head, instantly looking wary, but I’m not paying attention to that.

My eyes go straight to her shapely breasts in the nude-colored camisole top hugging her frame with tiny little straps going over her shoulders.

With her hair piled up on top of her head in a neat but messy bun, the tendrils of golden strands adorn her face and highlight her exotic cheekbones.

There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be attracted like fuck to her, and he wouldn’t be foolish enough not to acknowledge that getting married to her will hold some meaning. Business or otherwise.

By lunchtime on Saturday, Gwen St. James will be my wife. She’ll become Gwen Volkova, and no matter how many months we'll have to stay married, we’ll still be husband and wife.

“You’re up late.” I speak first because I know she’d have no problem staring off with me all night if she had to. I move closer, thinking of all the other interesting things we could do with our time.

“I was working.”

I’m not surprised she found a way to work. Creative people are often able to find a way to work under any circumstance.

“What are you working on?”

“The new pieces for my line.” She watches me as I take off my jacket and undo the buttons on my shirt.

“Sounds good.”

“Do I get to see you in any of this lingerie you’re designing?”

“No.” Although she sounds nonchalant, the flush in her cheeks shows she’s nervous.

“Not even if I request it?” My gaze drops to the golden skin of her legs showcased in shorts that match her top.

“I think it’s best if we remember the business parts of our arrangement, don’t you?”

I grin back at her smart-mouthing me and think of the perfect thing to say to her. “Where you’re concerned, business for me means whatever I want it to mean. So I could have you walking around all day in a thong if I wanted to.”

Her cheeks turn red, and at the sight of her nipples hardening against the sheer fabric of her top, I push aside anything in my head telling me I’m not to taste her again.

“My mistake. How dare I forget.” Her voice is sour with sarcasm and the attempt to be ballsy makes me want her even more.

Yesterday, I lost control when I ripped off her clothes and feasted on her pussy. I thought I did pretty well this morning. I restrained myself. But now that we're in this bedroom, back at the place we were yesterday, I can’t do it.

“Come and shower with me.” I keep my tone even on purpose.

Her brows knit together, and she looks even more flustered than before. Signs of a person trying to deny themselves something they want.

“I've already showered, thank you very much.”

“But not with me.”

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