Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Nope. Not happening.
I shoved that thought into a dark hole and slammed the lid shut. My body didn’t get a say in what happened now, only my brain. She was in full control…at least, so I hoped.
“I’m not getting naked,” I challenged, though the discomfort was becoming unbearable. The mud had worked its way everywhere. Down my collar, into my bra, between my thighs where it chafed with every step. My skin itched fiercely under the drying clay.
His gaze dropped, tracking the movement before flicking back to my face. His jaw ticked.
If I wasn’t careful, he was going to spank me again.
I was a ridiculous sight, standing there like a defiant brat, but I didn’t care. I was sticking to my guns on this one. I shifted my weight, feeling another chunk of mud break off and fall to the floor.
My jeans had essentially become cardboard, molded to my legs and stiff as plaster. The sensation was maddening. My skin simultaneously wet in some places and painfully dry in others.
But this was about control.
If I gave in, if I did what he wanted, it would just prove what I already knew—that he expected complete obedience. That my body, my choices, my actions were all subject to his approval.
Kostya exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine.”
And then he reached for the remaining buttons on his shirt.
One by one, they slipped free, until he shrugged off the ruined fabric, letting it drop to the floor. His broad, powerful shoulders rolled as he stripped down with zero hesitation.
He turned his back to me as he continued undressing, and I caught myself staring at the broad expanse of his back, at the play of muscles beneath his skin. The mud had somehow enhanced, rather than diminished, his raw masculinity, highlighting the contours of his body.
My mouth went dry.
He made quick work of his belt, tugging it free with a sharp snap before unfastening his pants while kicking off his shoes. The pants hit the floor in a heap.
I stood there, frozen, as he stood before me in nothing but black boxer briefs that rode low on his hips. His body was all sharp lines, dark ink, and hard muscle, every ridge defined, every inch of him carved as if he were sculpted from stone.
He cocked his head. “Suit yourself.”
I barely had a second to react before he moved.
A startled yelp tore from my lips as he grabbed me, again, and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing.
“Put me down!” I shrieked, shoving at his back. My fists pounded uselessly against him, but he didn’t so much as flinch as he stormed across the suite.
He kicked the bathroom door closed behind him, the heavy thud sending a shiver through my torso. The space was instantly smaller, the walls lined with sleek marble.
Still carrying me like a sack of flour, Kostya reached for the shower knobs. The pipes groaned before a rush of steaming water poured from the rainfall showerhead. He adjusted the temperature with practiced ease while still holding me effortlessly against him.
I struggled harder, my movements more desperate. My hands scrambled against his back, nails digging in, anything to gain leverage.
His skin was warm under my fingertips. His grip was iron, unyielding, locked tight around the backs of my thighs like a vice.
“Put me down!” I demanded again, kicking uselessly.
He sighed, as if I were nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum.
Then, without a single ounce of warning—
He yanked off my shoes.
First one, then the other.
Before I could even process what was happening, he stepped forward, right into the shower, and dumped me under the spray, fully clothed. A gasp tore from my throat as the hot water slammed against me, drenching my clothes in an instant, making them cling to every inch of my body. The thin fabric of my sweater molded to my skin, outlining the curve of my breasts, the peaks of my nipples, stiffening under the sudden heat.
Kostya’s gaze dropped, just for a fraction of a second, before he jerked his head away with a sharp curse.
His hands flexed at his sides, as if physically restraining himself. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed. “Fuck.” His voice was hoarse, rough. His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply.
A slow, unbearable silence stretched between us, filled only by the rush of water cascading down our bodies.
Heat licked up my spine, but it wasn’t from the steam.
I was very aware of the fact that he was standing right there, nearly naked, water dripping down his chest, his broad shoulders rigid with tension.
And he was very aware of me.
The air between us was thick and heavy.
Unable to take the tension for another second, I shifted to escape.
He blocked my path with his body, a wall of muscle and heat, cutting off any chance of escape.