Page 13 of The Payback

“Fuck.”

“Precisely.”

While I never intended to fuck the agent they sent as my bride, I’m certainly not opposed—to keep the ruse up, of course. Because while Nik might know Elsa is an Interpol agent, he doesn’t knowIknow that. It’s just as plausible she was a plant for the Sabres as he was for the Bratva.

Besides, it’s just sex. And the last thing we want is for Nik to share his doubts about our union with my uncle. The circumstances leave few options.

Elsa somehow looks down her nose at me from below. Impressive, I’ll admit. “We have to sell this. He knows me.”

“I know.” I drop my head to the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. Cherry blossoms and something spicy. Her pulse picks up against my lips as I trail kisses down her neck. “Moan for me, Sabre.”

Her breathy little moan isn’t enough.

“Louder,” I command, skating one hand down her side and settling it at the dip of her waist.

I nip at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, soothing the hurt with a swipe of my tongue. Her groan floats through the air, louder and carrying through the space.

“Better.”

Her ivory silk-and-lace wedding dress is still on, and the cool fabric against her fevered skin makes me itch to rip it off her. To taste and explore, mapping every peak and valley with my tongue.

I pull away, leaving her gasping on the bed below me. “Stand up.”

She swings her legs off the bed and stands at the side, following my orders so well. I twirl a finger in the air, telling her to turn around.

When her back is to me, I take her slim waist in my hands and pull her closer to me, feeling the material sliding over her skin. She shivers, and goosebumps break out over her arms.

The line of buttons along her spine looks like a test of patience, which I usually have an abundance of, but not tonight. I pull the switchblade from my pocket and tug the lace away from her body.

I flick open the knife and slice the dress from nape to ass, splitting the garment in half.

Elsa gasps and grips the front of the dress, holding it to her body. I stab the knife into the wood of the nightstand and move just behind her, running my fingers along her exposed spine. “Don’t hide from me, wife.”

“Dimitri,” she whispers, lust dripping from her voice.

“Shh,” I breathe into her ear. “This is nothing. This is two colleagues passing the time.”

She stiffens under my touch at my words, and I run my hands to her shoulders, taking the material between my fingertips and dragging it down her arms. Elsa slips her arms from the top, and the dress slithers over her hips, pooling on the floor at our feet.

I dip my head to her neck again, looking over her shoulder. She’s not wearing a bra, and her pert breasts are on display, their tawny nipples straining towards the window on the wall opposite us.

She lowers her arms, giving me an unobstructed view as she looks into the reflective glass. I follow her gaze, seeing a woman in nothing but white lace panties as my spectre dwarfs her slight frame. My hands glide from her ribs to her hips, and I want to mark them with my fingerprints, holding onto her so tightly evidence of my every touch is branded onto her skin.

“What are we doing?” she asks our reflection.

“Selling it,” I answer. “Undress me.”

CHAPTERSIX

Eleanor

Dimitri’s breathskirts over my neck, my feverish skin getting warmer by the second.

I drop my arms, staring at the woman reflected at me in the dark window. Running my gaze up and down my body, my lace panties are stark white against my skin. The shadow behind me runs his hands from my ribs to my hips, not as narrow as they once were, but they give me an hourglass shape I’ve come to love.

“What are we doing?” I ask, feeling Dimitri’s eyes on mine through the window’s reflection.

“Selling it. Undress me.”

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