Page 90 of Marrying the Savage

I almost smile. Then my knuckles brush the damp fabric between her legs, and the words vanish from her mouth.

There it is. The truth of her.

Hot. Wet. Aching.

I press two fingers against her through the thin barrier, and her hips jerk before she can pretend control. Her head falls back against the wall, exposing the long line of her throat, the faint mark I left there still visible above the neckline of her dress.

Mine.

The thought is brutal and simple.

“You were arguing with me,” I say, dragging my fingers over her slowly, feeling the soaked fabric give under my touch. “Snooping through my study. Demanding answers. Threatening to open locked doors.”

Her lips part, but no sound comes.

“And all this time,” I continue, pressing harder, “you were this wet.”

Her eyes fly open. “Damir.”

A warning. A plea.

A surrender she has not yet admitted to herself.

I hook my fingers beneath the edge of her underwear and pull it aside.

The first touch of her bare cunt nearly empties my head. She’s slick against my fingers, swollen and soft and so hot that my jaw tightens. I drag one finger slowly through her folds, gathering the wetness there, and circle her clit with a pressure light enough to torment.

Sofia’s whole body goes tight. “Oh God.”

“Not God,” I say against her jaw. “Me.”

“You arrogant⁠—”

I press my thumb over her clit, firmer this time, and her insult becomes a gasp.

Good. Much better.

I watch her face as I touch her. I want every expression. Every crack in her control. Every second of surprise as she realizes her body is not interested in helping her fight me. Her lashes flutter. Her cheeks flush. Her mouth opens on a broken breath, and when I circle her clit again, slowly, steadily, she grips my shoulders like she might fall.

“You like that,” I say.

“No.”

I do it again. Her hips lift into my hand.

“Liar.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I lean closer, my mouth brushing the corner of hers. “But I think you hate how badly you want my fingers inside you.”

Her breath comes faster. Panting now. Hot, uneven little breaths that touch my mouth and turn my restraint into something thin and dangerous.

I slide one finger down from her clit to her entrance, teasing, barely pressing in. She clenches around nothing.

Christ.

I feel it against my fingertip, that hungry little pull, and my cock hardens so painfully I have to brace my bandaged hand against the wall beside her head.