I don’t know if this is a dream. But if it is, someone better not wake me up.
He hooks a finger under a single strap and yanks it down until one of my breasts slips free. I should be embarrassed, exposed, but the only thing I sense is the ache building inside me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though the small tug at the corner of my mouth betrays me.
“You will be.”
He shuts his eyes, his fist clenching at his side like he’s trying to hold himself back. When he opens them again, the heat in them is almost unbearable.
“You have three seconds to walk out of here, Sloane. Because if you don’t…” His hand comes up around my throat. “I won’t deny myself anymore.”
A quiet chuckle slips from him when I gasp. He tips my chin up until our eyes meet, holding me there so I can’t look away.
“I will fuck you until you can barely walk out of here on your own two feet.” His fingers cinch tighter. “Am I clear, malyshka?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SLOANE
He couldn’t beany clearer than that.
I nod quickly, desperate for exactly what he just promised. My hips grind against the wall without thinking, the need for him taking over, and when he notices, another rough groan leaves his throat.
“Ya ne dolzhen tebya khotet.”
“What does that mean?” I reach for him, needing to feel him again, but he steps back just enough that my hands hover uselessly in the air.
My attention drifts over his chest instead, the hard muscle there, the skull and snake tattoos stretched across his skin, every line of him tense with restraint.
“It means…” He closes the distance again. “It means I shouldn’t want you.” His eyes drop to my exposed breast. “I shouldn’t be looking at you this way. I shouldn’t be dreaming about you. Picturing you in my bed every night.”
He grabs the other strap and tears it down so my other breast spills free, two fingers closing around my nipple until a cry escapes me.
“But I can’t stop.” His hand slowly drags down the center of my chest, catching the fabric of the nightgown and pulling it lower. “You’re all I want.”
“I want you too, Kirill,” I breathe. “So badly.”
“Is that right?” He tugs the gown farther down my stomach.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
“Hmm.” He says it like he doesn’t quite believe me as his hands slide the gown past my hips until I’m completely bare in front of him.
That’s when the shyness finally creeps in, a sudden awareness of how exposed I am beneath the weight of his gaze. He must notice, because his fingers tilt my chin up before I can look away.
“Don’t.” His eyes move slowly over me, dark and intense. “Don’t ever hide from me. I want all of you. Every single inch of you is mine.”
“Yours.” The confession feels real, even though I know better.
How can I be his when he doesn’t really know me?
“Is that the truth?” His gaze narrows and my nerves ignite.
I reach for his forearm, my fingers wrapping around the warm strength of it. “Hey…what’s going on? Do you need to ask me something?”
Did you find out that I’m a con?
“There’s a lot I want to ask you.” He tosses me around, pressing me forward until my cheek meets the wall, the rest of the gown slipping from my body as he tears it away. “But right now, all I want is to hear you beg me to fill your pretty cunt.”
