I drag my hands over his chest, savoring the taut strain of the muscles beneath my palms, and quickly unbuckle his belt. He helps me, deft fingers meeting mine. When I pull him free, wild want throbs through my body, and against everything in me, I remember that night: the way he pleasured me generously, the way he took his time, the way he made me feel like a queen.
I stand, stepping out of my pants and pulling my panties to the side. No time—to think, to consider, tofeel. Maxim looks up at me: piercing eyes through black curls, lips parted with want, sharp cheeks touched pink.
I lower myself, taking him inside of me in one thrust. With a growl he slides his hand into my hair and yanks me against him, our bodies pressed tight. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man—a very long time. Yet in his arms it could have been yesterday that we were together.
“We shouldn’t,” he says, voice deep and low, vibrating through me. His lips are against my ear, breath hot and delicious.
A little late for that.But all I say, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders is, “We should.”
I shift my hips, taking his cock deep, a delicious shudder going through me. Then I slowly lift myself, let him slide free—before sliding him right back in. He grunts, his hand in my hair tightening. The way we’re positioned, the heat and unyielding stiffness of him—I know he won’t last long.
Good. I want him to want me again as soon as we’re done. I want him to be hooked on me, unable to crave anything else.
When I moan, head thrown back, Max slides his hand against my mouth. The movement only makes my illicit pleasure more perfect. I begin to ride him steadily, thighs clenched tight, back arched so I can take him deep. He thrusts in time with me, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and bright with hunger.
He likes that this is wrong, I realize, and the thought is enough to push me hard toward climax. A moan works up out of me and Maxim slides his fingers into my mouth.Fuck.It’s so hot my breath hitches. He grunts and I push my palm against his mouth. In delicate punishment, he sinks his teeth into my palm.
My climax builds sharply, a delicious, deep heat just within reach. His grunts quicken—he’s close too. I suck his fingers as I ride him, faster, harder, back arched to take him as deeply as I can. I’m so close, so fucking close—his teeth break the skin of my palm and I buckle, coming suddenly like breaking the surface of water.
He groans against my hand, a shudder going through his entire body at the exact instant it goes through mine. Pleasure bursts through my veins, floods me with electric heat. Every muscle strains, pulse after pulse of total ecstasy. My moan is lost against his skin, the taste of his fingers in my mouth.
Finally, one arm wrapped tight around my waist, he pulls them free. “Fuck,” I whisper. It’s no act that I can’t sit up straight. Instead I let myself fall against him, relaxing into the strength of his waiting arms. Immediately he wraps them around me. His heart is slamming, I can feel it. His breathing comes ragged.
“You’re playing with me,” he says against my hair.
Even though some part of him is right, I shake my head. “I wasn’t playing.”
I lean back, examining my hand. The sting itself is pleasurable, a smear of blood on my palm. Maxim brings it to his lips. “Sorry,” he says softly.
“Don’t be.”
His eyes find mine. The cloud of sex is dissipating, almost immediately replaced with coldness and suspicion. I take that as my cue, standing on shaking legs and getting dressed. “I should clean up.”
He nods stiffly, jaw taut. “Gregor will take you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say, giving him as coy a smile as I can manage. “It’s OK, Max.”
He nods again, but his eyes narrow. He leans past me to rap his knuckles against the door.
I leave with Gregor, not looking back.
Chapter Nine
Maxim
Mistake.That was a mistake.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, waiting for Annika to come back. My heart is slamming so hard I fear it will burst.Easy. Relax. Let it go. It doesn’t mean anything.
Then why do I feel like I just stepped off a fucking cliff?
It’s all part of her game. It has to be. Yes, I saw sincerity in her when she spoke of Alexei. Maybe shedoesbelieve he’s a good man. Maybe she believes I am too. Maybe she believes her father is anything but.
But Annika Desyatova isn’t innocent. She never has been. And I’m the fool who kidnapped her and whisked her across the world. Beneath that thin veneer of waning allegiance, beneath that beautiful, bewitching face, there is a clever young woman who no doubt wants revenge. I can’t let myself develop feelings for her. I can’t let my guard down. She’s too smart, and she’s too damn dangerous.
I think of Sacha then, and am struck by shame. He knew I’d go back to her if she offered herself to me. For both him and Alexei, I absolutely can’t let her get under my skin.
I shut myself down, ice my veins and turn my face and mind to steel doors, slammed shut. I clean myself up, change my shirt, trace the place along my shoulder where her fingernails left deep crescent moons. Pleasure courses through me as I touch them, recalling with granular clarity the way she’d swallowed her moans, back arching, as she came. She was nothing like the girl I took back to a hotel room three years ago. That girl was quiet and coy and soft; this girl was a knife. Gleaming and beautiful and endlessly dangerous.
