Still, I was annoyed. “Let me up.”
“No.”
I sharpened my gaze. “I need a shower.”
His answer was to dig his pelvis harder into mine, and damn him if that didn’t send a wave of residual pulsing at my center. I couldn’t smother the satisfying moan that left my lips. It was sooo good.
He was in no hurry to withdraw. “I’m enjoying this position.” He traced my forehead and cleared the hair from my face. “So we finally consummated. You’re my wife in every way.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means, Mrs. Zahkarova, no more separate bedrooms. I want to fuck you every night in every position.”
“I’m not a fuck toy.”
He chuckled. “Oh, you’re going to enjoy being my fuck toy, but like I said, you’re my wife.” He pulled out of me, and I winced when my muscles complained.
The T-shirt was still bunched across my chest, and I yanked it down to rescue my dignity, but not before I saw Kirill rake his teeth over his bottom lip suggestively. Then he raised his gaze to mine. They burned through me. There were no doubts about what he was thinking. He wanted to fuck me again. And dear God, I was looking forward to it too.
He sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re my wife, and I intend to make this marriage more tolerable. Fantastic sex helps, but we couldn’t fuck like bunnies and not at least like each other.”
Surprised, I propped up on my elbows and scooted against the headboard. “I didn’t realize liking each other was a requirement.”
“I didn’t make myself clear. I want to have repeated access to your body. I do understand that, for women, it might entail some kind of affection.”
“And for men, I guess, it’s just sex.”
He frowned. “You fascinate me. I care about your welfare. That’s a start, right?”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t offended. What we had started with was already more than what most arranged marriages had. Though Kirill wasn’t a sociopath, he was emotionally stagnant. He couldn’t identify emotions or refused to identify them. I believed he was jealous of Trevor earlier, and he didn’t like thatone bit, and that was why he canceled his appointments for the afternoon to spend time with me. “I guess.” My mouth curved. “So what are you proposing besides sexual activity?”
He chuckled. An unfamiliar but pleasing sound. This was Kirill with his guard lowered. Mine had taken a hike after several glasses of wine, and I hadn’t recovered it yet after my nap. I didn’t regret the sex. Yet. Not with the multiple explosive orgasms Kirill had given me. Would getting amazing sex out of this marriage be so bad? Except, I didn’t think I could separate the act from emotion if we kept having it. I’d had two one-night stands in my entire life. Sex with a stranger was overrated.
Second thoughts plagued me. I didn’t want to be emotionally attached to an emotionally detached husband. Maybe this should be a onetime thing. I eyed the magnificent specimen of a man who singlehandedly gave me the best sex of my life. Maybe it was a fluke. All the frustration of dealing with him led to this explosion.
Kirill watched me intently. It was as if he could read my mind. “How about I come home early this week? See if we can tolerate having dinner and conversation every night.”
I laughed briefly. “That’s quite a challenge.”
“I like challenges.” He got up and extended his hand. “Shower?”
I stared at it for a beat before I shook my head and got off the bed. “I think I’ll shower in my room. I…”
He blocked my path, frowning. “Don’t tell me you’re regretting the sex already.”
“I’m not.” I stopped his momentum by planting a hand on his chest. “I’m not a prude, but showering together sounds too intimate, too soon.”
This time his laugh was mocking. “I had my mouth on you. I came inside you. That’s as intimate as it gets.”
“Also, I’m not prepared to share a room.”
He scratched his brow. “In case you missed what I said earlier, we consummated the marriage. We share a room. Is that too intimate for you too?” His expression became unreadable, even though his question dripped with sarcasm.
My chin inched up. “Let me think about it.”
Kirill’s jaw hardened. “I won’t have you retreating.”
“I won’t.” When I reached the door, I threw a seductive look over my shoulder. His eyes had been glued to my ass. Unlike the bland look on his face, they were burning through me, but it was his fists clenching tight that clued me in about the tenuous hold he had on his control.
