After feeling every inch of Katya and finally sating that deep-seated desire to explore her completely, I know I’m ruined.
My whole world has shifted, almost like every part of me has been branded by her. Every part belongs to her.
I’ve had my share of women before. More than I care to count. But none of them ever mattered like this.
This with Kat…it’s something else entirely.
It isn’t about her body, regardless of how that part certainly doesn’t disappoint. It’s everything else, too. Her sharp tongue, the fire in her eyes, and the way she pushes me back without thinking twice when I try to control her. And yet, she pulls me back in just the same.
It’s been two days since that night, and despite how I try to stop myself from lingering in those memories for too long, I still catch myself thinking about it almost every hour.
She’s under my roof, moving around like something I’ll never be able to contain. Instead of trying to rein her in like I should, I find myself wanting to let her cause as much chaos and destruction as she possibly can.
I want to watch and see just how far she’ll go, even if that involves her torturing me in the meantime.
Roman would say I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have, but either way, weathering that storm feels worth it.
I spend the morning with Kat by my side while we go from store to store, fitting her in some dresses that do her so much justice, it should almost be illegal.
At first, she seems resistant to the idea of spending the entire day with me while a few guards trail us, but with time, I watch as that cold mask shifts slightly. How it melts into what looks like amusement.
And of course, it’s at my expense.
Kat manages to find every dress that hugs her curves, accentuating all of her gifts and nearly bringing me to my knees.
At one boutique, she calls me over to the change room and asks for my help with the zipper. But the dress hardly even covers her chest, not leaving anything to the imagination.
Seeing her with sequins gleaming against her skin shouldn’t get me going as much as it does, given how I had her completely bare under me not that long ago. But it still does.
When she’s satisfied with it and asks me to undo it again, I take my time, letting my eyes roam over her exposed back.
My fingers drift lower, brushing against her skin while I contemplate throwing the curtain across and taking her then and there. I go to take her waist in my hands, but she slaps my hand away and tells me to get out.
It irritates me at first, but I catch the subtle knowing look on her face as she shoos me away, putting the curtain between us before she gets undressed.
She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she’s doing it on purpose.
The rest of the day continues like this…with her icing me out, almost pretending like the other night didn’t happen, only for her to slowly reel me back in again.
She’s teasing me. She has to be.
By the time evening rolls around, she has several more dresses added to her arsenal, while my nerves are practically shot from enduring nothing but torture.
Tonight, we’re going to dinner. While I haven’t had much contact with my family, Elena texted to let me know she and the others were looking forward to meeting Kat. In a way, it feels like a subtle demand.
Roman hasn’t let the last few weeks slide. My ‘impulsiveness’, as he likes to call it, has pushed things too far for his liking, but I didn’t want to hear it, and I still don’t.
I know I’ll get an earful about how badly I screwed everything up, but for now, I’d rather focus on my wife and getting them to all see her how I do. To understand why I was quick to have her for myself.
As we get into the back of the SUV again and head out, I nearly forget how to breathe while I’m beside her.
The sleek, black dress hugs her curves in a way that has me contemplating whether getting to the restaurant is even worth it, or if I should keep her hidden away a while longer. The scoop neckline has me wanting to touch her more than anything, and as much as I want to taint the back seat, I settle on touching her thigh.
Kat raises a brow at me while I gently stroke her skin with my thumb, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking and what she’s so easily achieving.
She has a certain power over me, and I won’t deny it.
“Are you trying to start a war in that dress?” I ask her, voice a touch lower than usual.
