Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“What do you usually like to . . . ?” His voice faded to nothing.
I’d bent over at the fridge for another stick of butter, hadn’t even meant to tempt him. I straightened and whirled around.
“Vika!” He crossed the distance in one long stride and grabbed my waist.
“Just a minute, big guy! You gotta feed me—”
His mouth descended over mine.
________________________________________
___________________________________
Breakfast, take three.
“This time I have to eat,” I said between kisses. He had me pressed up against the counter, trapping me with his body.
“Then why do you keep seducing me?” He continued taking my mouth, so I forced myself to draw back and face him.
“You have two choices, Dmitri. You can control yourself, even when my tits move”—in the throes, he’d told me how wild that sight made him—“or you can go grab me one of your T-shirts.”
“And that is the conundrum of my day? I like this life with you.”
I grinned. I was liking it too. “I’ll strip as soon as we’re through.”
“Not soon enough.” He grumbled in Russian as he strode off. I leaned to keep him in sight. His ass was unreal. I’d left scratches on it over the night.
Inhaling for control, I poured coffee. How would he take his?
When he returned, I traded him a cup for a T-shirt. Had he found the thinnest one he owned? My nipples were visible. Sneaky Russian. “I don’t know how you like your coffee—and how weird is that?—so I made it like mine.”
He took a sip. “Good. Thank you.”
“But it’s not how you prefer.” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you even drink coffee?”
He shrugged. “Not in a year.” He’d had a seriously life-changing year.
“But you accepted the cup anyway?”
Nod.
Awww. “Could you be any sweeter?”
“I am very sweet on you.” He set the coffee aside, getting that look in his eyes—half thrall, half dark lust.
I responded like a lit wick. I did a bad bad thing. Inner shake. “Whoa, Dmitri. Food.”
He sighed. “Very well.”
We rummaged, selecting sliced fruit and breakfast ham.
Once I’d satisfied the worst of my hunger, I asked him, “Do you always sleep so long?”
“Never. And never so soundly.” He seemed a different man. He’d smiled several times—as if his smile had only been awaiting parole. “Maybe it’s all part of the process.”
I was dying to know more, but I could be patient. So I kept it light. “Did we do good last night?”
He lifted me up on the counter and stood between my thighs. “We did amazing, zhena.”
Now that the touch-and-go sexual situation had resolved itself, my usual worry took center stage. My family. I glanced at my ring.
“Something on your mind?”
I gave him my practiced smile. “I thought you couldn’t read people.”
“I can’t,” he said, his eyes lively. “But you stopped eating at last, so I figured something else was occupying you.”
I play-punched his shoulder. “I’ve got a comedian on my hands? You should’ve put a weight clause in your postnup.” I slapped my forehead. “Oh, too late . . .”
He almost chuckled. I was beginning to think of his laughter as a muscle that hadn’t been worked out. We would ease it into use.
His expression turned serious. “I will always desire you no matter how you look.”
I leaned in and nipped his bottom lip. “Lose your rock-hard abs, and I’m outta here.” Excellent, Vice, making jokes about leaving him? Quick change of topic . . . “How do you foresee our days?”
“I want to take you all over the world. Or as far as we can get between your family’s Sunday dinners.”
Dinners Dmitri wouldn’t be going to. “Don’t you have a home in Russia you need to get back to?”
“No. After selling my company, I moved from one property to another.” He added to himself, “Fleeing ghosts.” Before I could ask about that, he said, “We have several properties I think you will enjoy.”
“But you’ll want to live in Russia eventually.” Say yes. Give me one major stumbling block.
“No. I like California. I believe my bride does too.”
Did I ever. “What would our regular day-to-day be like here?”
“Other than the hour I need to conduct business, I’m at your service. Once we’ve traveled and enjoyed ourselves, perhaps you’d like to pursue your dream of designing clothes. We should visit Paris and Milan and investigate where your interests lie.”
Well, then. “Just hit up the fashion capitals of the world?”
“Why not? Money affords us an enviable entrée. We could attend shows and expos and tour the most famous houses. We could invite your friends or family. Or mine. Or both.”
How would my crew get along with the Sevastyans? Didn’t matter. I could never risk one of them slipping up and exposing us. I pictured what would happen if Dmitri found out he’d been maneuvered and used. Would he believe anything between us had been real? That I truly cared for him and wanted him to be happy?
“And, of course”—he reached for a breast—“you and I will provide each other vast amounts of sex.”
But I leaned back. “Hold up, big guy. We’re going to have to ice my pussy if you don’t give it a little rest. It’s gone from off limits to all access, zero to sixty.”
He dropped his hand, squeezing it into a fist. “We’re late for an appointment anyway.”
“Appointment?”
“Yes, out on the water. So I’ll give you a reprieve till tonight. But then I’m going to show you something I think you’ll like. . . .”
CHAPTER 27
________________________________________
___________________________________
I sputtered when windblown spray from a whale’s blowhole dotted my face.
They were swimming all around our kayak—that close! I cast a shocked look back at Dmitri. “Did that just happen?” I vibrated with so much excitement, I probably rocked the boat.
He flashed me a grin, looking like a god in the afternoon sunlight as he paddled us around. He wore a pair of board shorts. No shirt. The misted skin of his broad chest shimmered. “I’m a witness.”
Earlier, he’d told me to hurry into a swimsuit or we’d be late, then rushed me down to the cove to hop in a kayak. When I’d hesitated, admitting I didn’t know how, he’d pinched my chin and told me, “I’ve got you. Just relax, and let me do the work.”