Page 46 of Poisoned Vows

He still forced you to marry him. He isn’t letting you go. And he’s still someone who insists you obey his every whim. Doing a few dishes doesn’t change that.

But when he takes me to where the hot tub is, it’s almost enough to make me forget that resolve I had earlier.

Hot tubisn’t an accurate description for it, just asremote cabinisn’t a good way to explain where we’re staying. There’s a large room at the back of the cabin, spanning the width of it, with a wet bar built into one wall, a large television and seating area on the other side, and then, along the wall facing the woods that is nothing but one floor-to-ceiling glass window, there’s a black granite pool built into the length of it. That’s the only way to describe it—apool, not a hot tub. It’s narrow, the width of maybe two people side by side if they were broad-shouldered, and as Nikolai and I walk closer, I see that the glass window opens out into the snowy landscape beyond the cabin, with the pool extending outside. Steam is rising off of it, and the inner portion has glowing fairy lights strung along the ceiling, creating a star-like effect above the heated pool.

I can’t control the expression on my face. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I know Nikolai can see.

“I can tell you like it.” There’s almost something pleased in his voice, as if he’sgladthat I like it. As if that somehow matters to him.

He’s a mystery to me. So much about him doesn’t make sense. And I can’t let myself start to want to unravel it.

Nikolai strips off his shirt, and I try not to look. But Ican’t. For all that I hate him, that I don’t want to be married to him—he’s fucking gorgeous. His muscles stretch and flex as he takes off the shirt and tosses it over a nearby seat, all that tattooed flesh on display, ink curling over his chest and down his abdomen, over his shoulders, and around his arms in patterns and designs that I haven’t allowed myself to really look at. I never want him to catch me staring. But he looks deadly and beautiful like this, and for a brief second, I let myself just look.

His hands go to his belt, and he motions at me. “Take off your clothes,krolik,” he says in that low, smoky voice, and I feel my pulse stutter in my throat.

I don’t move. “I don’t want to,” I say in a small voice, hating myself for it, but if defiance doesn’t work, then I can try for sympathy. I can try to appeal to whatever other side of him seems to have come out here.

Nikolai’s jaw tightens. “Do you remember earlier, when I said you would know if I gave you orders? Take off your clothes.”

His belt comes undone, and his hands linger on it. I have a sudden vision of that leather folded over, striking my skin, and I’m not sure where it comes from. He’s never directly threatened anything like that.

Worse still is the odd prickle of heat I feel at the idea.

“We’re going to enjoy the water together,” he says smoothly, his fingers drawing down his zipper. “And I’m going to enjoy you with your clothes off. So do it,krolik. This time I’m not doing it for you.”

I don’t have a choice. IknowI don’t, and that makes me even angrier. “Fine,” I hiss, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and yanking it over my head. I’m not going to strip sensually for him.

I can feel his eyes on me as I toss the t-shirt onto the floor. “The bra next,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“You’re going to decide what order I take my clothes off in now?”

“You’re doing it for my pleasure, Lilliana.” There’s my name again, but it sounds more decadent on his tongue now, his accent thickening, as if he’s savoring saying it. It sends a shiver down my spine and makes something low in my belly clench, and I try to fight the sensation. It feels as if it’s slowing me down, pulling me under. Drawing me towards him.

If I try to please him, maybe I’ll have more of an opportunity to escape.

I reach behind my back, unhooking the bra. I hear the low sound he makes in his throat as he sees my breasts, almost a growl of anticipation, and I force myself to look at him, eyelashes lowered as I drop the bra to the floor and reach for the button of my jeans.

“Slowly.” His voice is thicker now, full of a lust that makes my hands tremble. His gaze sweeps down my body, and I can see how much he wants me.

There’s something a little heady about that—the idea that this powerful man wants me so much. It’s something I could get caught up in, if I’m not careful. Something that could drag me down, if I let it.

Slowly, I push my jeans down my hips, taking my panties down with them, as one final act of rebellion. I know he’s going to want me to do it separately, but I’m not willing to cede all of the control to him.

“Good girl.” The words are smooth as molasses on his lips, and I feel that prickle of heat over my skin again. “But you should have left the panties on.”

He’s still half-dressed, and I know what it is—the power that comes with him still being partially clothed while I stand there bare. I know he enjoys it. And Ishouldn’t—but if I don’t, then why do I feel that wet heat gathering between my thighs, that ache spreading through me as I stand there under the weight of his gaze?

I know the answer to that, and I don’t like it.

“You were going to tell me to take them off anyway.”

“Of course.” He starts to push his own jeans down. “But whenIdecided.”

He’s half-hard when he steps out of his pants, and I see him stiffen as he looks at me, his cock rising as his gaze sweeps over my naked body again. “Come on, little rabbit,” he murmurs softly as he steps towards the pool, gesturing to me. “I won’t eat you. Yet.”

God.The memory of his tongue between my thighs has my knees weakening. I suck in a breath as I follow him, and one of the worst parts of it all is that Idon’thatethis. Of all the time I’ve spent with Nikolai so far—and it’s been much less than I’d think someone should have spent with the person they were going to marry, but what do I know? This isn’t a world I belong in—tonight has been by far something that I would have liked the best…if I liked him.

It’s all something I wish Icouldlet myself enjoy. The secluded cabin, the romantic atmosphere, the delicious dinner he cooked himself for us, and now skinny-dipping in a luxurious heated pool with the snowy vista just beyond us—it’s all something out of a fantasy. Not a fantasy I’ve ever had—but one that maybe I could have had, if I’d ever felt like this kind of a thing was a possibility for me.

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