“What if I say it back?”
His thumb stopped along my cheekbone.
The power in that pause made my knees weak.
I rose on my toes and kissed him.
Vadim didn’t ease into it.
He had eased enough. He caught my mouth with a sound that went through me like a match struck in darkness. His hand slid from my cheek into my hair, not pulling yet, just holding. His other arm wrapped around my back and brought me against him, silk trapped between my bare skin and his shirt.
I opened for him because I wanted to.
His tongue stroked mine, hot and demanding, and the first real sound I made disappeared into his mouth. The ache between my legs came so quickly I felt my face heat around the kiss.
Vadim broke away first.
His forehead touched mine. “If I take you back to that bed, I will be careful.”
“I don’t want careful the whole time.”
His breath left him harshly.
I took the front of his shirt in both hands. “I want you to stop treating me like I might break because Gennady tried to buy me.”
His eyes opened.
I swallowed. “I didn’t break.”
“No.”
“I’m angry. I’m scared. I’m sore. I’m still standing.”
“Yes.”
“And I want to feel something he doesn’t get to touch.”
Vadim’s hand tightened in my hair.
Heat flashed under his control, dark and immediate.
“He does not touch what is mine.”
My spine stiffened.
Vadim’s hand loosened at once.
“What is yours?” I asked.
“Your safety. Your pleasure if you give it to me. The blood I spill for you. Not your will.”
His answer stole the air from my lungs.
I pushed his shirt back from his shoulders.
He let me.
Button by button, I opened him. My fingers were clumsy at first, then steadier when his breathing changed. His chest appeared by degrees, broad and warm, dark hair dusted lightly down the center. A scar cut pale along his ribs. Another marked the upper edge of his abdomen.
