Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Although my heart hasn’t stopped whacking out a funky tune for hours, it won’t stop me from seeking answers. “How?”
Andrik grunts as if frustrated by my inability to follow orders. I may have believed his dislike if he hadn’t hardened the instant the first syllable escaped my lips.
He waits for my eyes to lift from the protruding rod in his trousers to his face before he says, “I don’t have all the answers yet, милая. I will get them. I promise you that. But I don’t have them yet.”
With nothing but honesty in his eyes, I nod before raising my hands in the air so he can remove my shirt without hindrance.
A hiss of air escapes his lips when he realizes I am braless. “Jesus fucking Christ, милая. You are going to ruin me.”
His eyes lift to my face when I murmur, “I think we’ve already established that… more than once.”
“Think?” There’s that arrogant, dominating man I’ve fallen in love with. “Think is a consideration. A doubt. It does not belong between us. But this…”
I dart my eyes to the crotch of his trousers, not wanting to miss the impressive outline of his cock when he grips it.
My stare at his cock doubles the hunger ripping through me, though I barely feel its spasms over the surge that electrifies my heart when he falls to his knees before he presses his hands to my stomach.
“This was always meant to be between us.” He lifts his eyes to mine, full of silent apologies. “I was a foolish, insolent man, милая. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you”—his eyes flick in the direction of Zakhar’s room before he returns them to my nonexistent bump—“any of you. To be asked to give you up will be death worse than a thousand.” Nothing but honesty colors his tone when he says, “It will kill me. But…”—that killed him to say as much as it did for me to hear it—“if that is what you want for our family, I will respect your wishes.”
I gasp in a sharp breath, shocked by his offer. The sentiment in his eyes ensures it can only be read one way. He’s giving me, Zakhar, and our unborn child an out, freeing us from the madness he’s endured for decades with no threat of retribution for my choice.
He is giving us the opportunity to walk away.
I don’t give his offer any true thought. Who in their right mind would? You didn’t see the way he sheltered me when vengeance came knocking, or how mine and our son’s needs were more pertinent to him than revenge.
He’s putting us first—and now I need to do the same.
“What happened to there are no ifs or buts?” I squash my finger to his lips before he can answer me. “I also didn’t sign a prenup, so should you really be giving me an out before you’ve gotten all the bang for your buck? It is too late to negotiate after a deal is done. I thought I taught you that better than anyone.”
He laughs, and the heat of his breaths quickly announces that my panties are soaked. Don’t judge. The man I desire as much as my lungs crave air is kneeling in front of me, mere inches from my pussy. This could only be hotter if I were riding his face like there was still eight seconds on the timer.
I barely press my thighs together when the voice I became obsessed with in under a second adds to the mess between my legs. “милая… We have much to discuss.”
Andrik is telling me no, but his actions do the opposite. After leaning in close enough to force his shoulders between my thighs, his eyes lower to the large gap my unladylike position involuntarily enforces.
He growls when he spots the wetness the high rise of my skirt can’t hide before he finally answers one of the numerous pleas my hooded eyes are hitting him with. He puts his hands on me.
“Fuck, милая. Is all this wetness for me?”
He steals my lie by backhanding my clit. The frisky slap doubles its manic throbs and has me finally understanding why he walked us to the far side of his mega-mansion.
He doesn’t want my cries of ecstasy to wake our son—because despite our beliefs, sorrow will never rank higher than our needs.
I doubt even grief could touch the surface of how much I crave this man.
“Please,” I beg when his finger only traces the seam of my panties instead of peeling them away from my weeping sex.
He seems hesitant, like there’s a possibility God himself could stop this, but instead of announcing the cause of his worry, he mutters, “Fuck it,” before he lifts his eyes to my face. “Please, who?”
“Andrik. Please, Andrik.”
I grunt through the spasms his second growl sluices through my veins. It is as rumbling as the first but without its hesitation.