I shift my hips just enough for her to feel exactly how hard I am. Her eyes flare as my cock presses against her belly.
“We’re going to stay like this for sixty seconds,” I tell her. “You’re going to lie there and feel what you do to me.”
“Roman—”
“Sixty.” My thumb strokes her neck once. “Starting now.”
I count in my head.
At ten seconds, she’s breathing too fast. Her chest moves against my ribs with every short inhale, nipples tight against the silk.
By half, her leg trembles where it’s trapped between mine. The little adjustments her body makes to get comfortable are killing us both.
At forty, she swallows hard and looks away. Mistake. I slide my hand from her throat to her jaw and force her head back to face me.
“Eyes on me, zhena.”
Near the end, her thighs squeeze together and I’m close to saying fuck the promise and rolling her under me.
“You can run now.”
She tears herself away so fast she almost falls off the bed, catches the headboard at the last second. Her hair is a mess, her nightgown twisted high on her thighs, her face flushed and furious.
I stay where I am, propped on one elbow, sheet doing a shit job of hiding my erection.
“For the record,” I tell her, “you crawled over here at about three. Wrapped yourself around me.” I let my gaze drag down her body and back up. “I decided to let you stay.”
Her throat works around a swallow. “You’re disgusting.”
“Probably.” I smile. “Go shower. You’ve got twenty minutes before breakfast.”
She bolts for the bathroom, slamming the door.
I lie back and stare at the ceiling. My cock is still throbbing, my hand almost shakes when I scrub it over my face.
I didn’t mean to want her this much, this fast. I was supposed to be in control here.
Right now, she just feels like a fucking problem.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it.
Vadim.
YOUR WIFE MADE A STATEMENT LAST NIGHT. REFUSING THE ICON. BOLD.
I type back.You wanted a spine, dyadya. You got one.
His answer is instant. CHECHENS ARE CURIOUS. ABOUT THE NEW WIFE. ABOUT THE CHEMIST. DINNER TONIGHT, 20:00. BRING HER.
I stare at the screen for a second, then reply:We’ll be there.
The shower cuts off.
Steam curls out when the door opens and Anya steps back into the bedroom in a white towel, bare legs, wet hair stickingto her shoulders. She stops dead when she sees me still in bed, shirtless, sheets low on my hips.
Her eyes flick over me and away so fast she probably thinks I didn’t notice.
I did.
