I nod frantically. “Very.”
My shirt has risen up, the cool air of the room brushing my stomach before his heated skin presses down on me. His breath stutters, and then there’s a ragged inhale.
Our kisses turn messy and desperate, the mattress dips deeper when his hips rock into mine in hard, deliberate thrusts, the friction through our clothes almost unbearable.
Until the insistent sound of his buzzing phone, over and over, shatters the haze. Whoever it is, they’re relentless.
“Ignore it,” he growls, settling more firmly between my thighs, rocking harder. The pressure is exquisite; I bite my lip to stifle a whimper.
But the phone keeps vibrating.
Fuck.
Liev presses up on his forearms, holding his weight off me. He presses his forehead to mine, both of us breathing in harsh pants.
The phone buzzes again.
“Just get it.” My voice is hoarse. “It must be important.”
Still braced over me, he exhales a curse in Russian, and then he reaches for his phone with one hand. One look at the illuminated screen and his expression changes.
“I have to take this.”
With a soft kiss, he rolls off me and reaches for his T-shirt, pulling it on as he heads for the door. I hear his voice through thedoor, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. Not just because he’s being quiet, but because he’s speaking in Russian.
I close my eyes, reveling in the tendrils of pleasure still running through me, feeling safer and more cared for than I ever have before.
22
LIEV
The photographer and his assistants have transformed the penthouse into a makeshift studio, shoving the sleek furniture against the floor-to-ceiling windows to make room for their equipment. The air already feels warm from the lights, even though the shoot has barely started.
Keke stands in the center of the action, wearing nothing but a black thong, a short satin robe hanging from her elbows, while Dani powders her skin with a giant white puff thingy. Etienne and one of the other guards open a box containing Atelier Florian’s newest pieces.
Sera steps beside me and lowers her voice. “We don’t actually need to be in here. Watching.”
I grin at her but say with mock innocence, “She likes an audience.”
“She likesyouas part of the audience.”
“I’m pretty to look at.” I swallow a smile when Sera steps hard on my foot in retaliation.
“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” Her face is scrunched, but she keeps her eyes forward not looking at me.
“If I were enjoying it,” I say, matching her low tone, “I’d be looking ather. Instead, I’m having to keep a brave face while you abuse me.”
Her mouth works for a minute, but she can’t stop the smile trying to break through. “I’m not abusing you. I was helping you with a course correction.” Her smile spreads. “Besides, I think you must like it, or you wouldn’t try to annoy me so often.”
I glance down at her. “But it’s so easy.” I lean sideways avoiding her elbow.
Near the door to the penthouse, two of the French guards stand watch—Etienne and the one who recognized me from Cypress. I catch him glaring at me and give him a hard stare. The man’s jaw clenches. I have a feeling he’s going to be a problem.
“His name is Anton.”
“How do you know that?”
Sera gives me a flat look. “I asked.”
