Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
Her head whips up, and I revel in the way her lips part and her skin turns a deep shade of red in a fraction of a second.
Patience is my strongest attribute, but that doesn’t seem to be the case when it comes to this woman.
It’s time she knows exactly why she shouldn’t fuck with me.
23
SASHA
Violent shivers break out all over my skin in an unbearable chaos.
My first thought is to run.
There’s absolutely no use in considering any other options when all of them will lead to the half-naked enigma in front of me.
Kirill lounges leisurely on one of the wooden benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, hinting at the inked V line and teasing the toned muscles of his stomach.
His skin glistens with humidity, drawing more attention to his slick, defined abs. Despite the low orange light in the sauna, everything about him pops—his tattoos, his muscular superiority, and his monstrous strength.
Strands of his now longer hair fall haphazardly over his strong forehead, some of them camouflaging the inhumane color of his ice-cold eyes.
Dangerous, ethereal eyes.
There’s nothing idle about Kirill, even if his casual posture aims to convince me of such.
He’s just not someone to be taken lightly or easily. I’ve known him for months, and I still feel as extremely out of my depth in his company as I did the first day I met him.
Leaning back on his elbows, he tilts his head in my direction. “Are you going to stand there all day?”
“Where’s Maks?”
“Maksim has an errand to run.”
“I…will just come back after you’re done.”
“Nonsense. Come in.”
I fidget on my feet, not wanting to move either in his direction or outside. I’m stuck in the middle where my mind and body war for dominance, and neither comes out victorious.
“That’s an order, Sasha. Get in here.”
I purse my lips, even as the weight lifts off my chest when he takes away the choice. I like to think that I didn’t want this, but I have to do it.
It’s completely out of my control now.
And for some reason, that makes my movements lighter and more at ease.
After closing the door, I sit a step below Kirill, doing my best to avoid being in direct view of his destabilizing gaze.
I’m not sure if it’s the temperature or my overbearing company, but I start sweating profusely in the span of seconds. The bathrobe feels like a thick blanket, effectively suffocating my breathing. But I’m only wearing boxer briefs beneath it, so I can’t, under any circumstances, take it off. I was going to keep my chest bandages on, too, but I thought that would be uncomfortable. The boxer briefs are already a pain. Are people even supposed to wear underwear in saunas?
The air thickens with tension and silence, both trying to overpower each other for dominance. My skin turns into lava, but I don’t move, fearing the change of the status quo more than my being burned alive.
In a sense, my dramatic reaction to the current situation has to do with the fact that I’m trapped with him in a room, but I’d be naïve to consider that the only reason.
Kirill is a manipulative, emotionless monster with a skewed sense of morality, and yet I’ve never been so drawn to another person as I am to him.
It’s illogical, it’s madness, but I’m afraid I can’t deny it anymore.
“Isn’t this place too hot?” I ask in a half-assed attempt to murder the silence.
“Why do you speak English so well when you were born and raised in Russia?”
“I had a private American tutor.” I bite my lower lip.
Was that giving away too much? It’s a habit I developed in the army. Kirill was the only superior I considered worthy of respect, and, therefore, answering his questions has become natural. But, usually, I’d think carefully to avoid revealing anything about my background.
Maybe it’s the heat or the fact that I can feel his presence behind my back, but something caused me to have a serious lapse in judgment just now.
Maybe he didn’t notice or he’s too busy enjoying the sauna—
“So you were a rich young lady.”
The way he voices it means he’s suspected it all along. Shit. Shit.
“I…wasn’t.”
“Sure thing, Sasha. Let’s say a regular Russian speaks like nobility and has private tutors.”
“And do you know a lot of Russian nobility?” I try to sound casual, even though I’m freaking out. Was I not careful enough? I thought I got rid of my old mannerisms in the years prior to joining the army.
But then again, Kirill isn’t just anyone. He’s so observant, it’s scary.
“Yulia and her extended family are Russian nobility. Pretty sure you met her.”
“I…don’t act or speak like your mother.”
“No, but you used to and, no matter how much you try to camouflage it, the traits are still there. So why don’t you tell me your real last name?”