Her hands slide up my thighs, firm and confident. She looks up at me, those blue eyes burning with mischief and submission, a wicked combination that short-circuits my pulse. Her lips part. I can feel her breath on me. My head falls back against the chair, every muscle coiled tight, every instinct screaming for more?—
I exhale.
My palms press flat against the desk, the cool wood grounding me.
Enough.
I blink, dragging myself back to the present.
I can’t afford distractions.
But damn, she makes it hard.
CHAPTER 10
ASTRID
“Say it,” he growls, lips trailing down my throat, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. His mouth is on my neck again, hot and ravenous.
“I want you,” I breathe, arching under him. “God, I want you.”
His hand wraps around my thigh, pulling it up to his side. The other fists in my hair as he drives into me again, harder this time, deeper.
“Is this what you were thinking about all those weeks?” he murmurs against my skin. “Back in Paris? When you touched yourself at night… was it me you thought of?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “It was always you.”
He groans, low and dark, and I feel it vibrate straight through my core. Every thrust pushes me closer to the edge, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.
I come undone with a cry, clenching around him as he follows, hips jerking, curses falling in Russian as he spills inside, deepand warm. He collapses beside me, both of us panting, slick with sweat.
The room is quiet now, only the sound of our breathing and the faint whir of the ceiling fan overhead fills the space.
I glance down, catching the rise and fall of his chest. A sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbone. One arm lies draped across the sheets.
My heart starts to race again, but for a different reason this time.
“Yuri,” I say, voice quiet. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He turns his head toward me, unreadable. His gray eyes catch the low light in the room. “What is it?”
I sit up a little, pulling the sheet with me. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence. Heavy. Dense. Absolute.
His face is a mask. No flicker of emotion. No shift in his body language. Just that same, icy stillness I felt the first time I saw him in the office.
“Say something,” I whisper. “Yuri, please.”
Nothing.
My chest tightens. I reach out, placing a trembling hand on his arm.
“You can yell. Be mad. Justreact. I can’t take this silence. Please say something.”
But he’s gone. Not just emotionally but physically. The sheets beside me are cool. Undisturbed. No Yuri. No warmth. No scent. Like he was never there at all.
I jolt upright with a sharp inhale, lungs dragging in cool air. I’m alone in my bed, in my apartment. My heart’s pounding and my sheets are twisted.
