Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I turn off the water and step out, grabbing a towel. As I dry off, my mind is already working through the possibilities.
She's afraid of me.
But she's also drawn to me.
I saw the hunger on her face in that mirror.
And that I can work with.
Because I'm more than willing to whet her appetite.
I wrap the towel around my hips and catch my reflection in the foggy mirror. My skin is still damp, my hair slicked back from my face.
I smile, because this game just got interesting.
You can say you want to run all you like, little captive.
But we both know you're not going anywhere.
7
HOLLY
Back in my room, I lie on the bed and squeeze my eyes closed and desperately try not to think about a shirtless Nikolai.
Or the rough grunts he made as he hauled his muscular body up and down through each pull up.
Or the way our eyes met in the mirror across the—
The door opens, and my eyes dart to Nikolai entering the room. I watch him breathlessly as he walks toward the bed, bare-chested and barefoot, wearing nothing but charcoal dress pants that ride dangerously low on his hips. His belt hangs open, the leather trailing against his thigh with each step. His hair is mussed, damp at the temples, and all I can think about is what it would feel like fisted in my fingers while his mouth works its way down my body.
God help me.
I watch him approach. He’s angry. His jaw is tight. But his eyes… oh God. His eyes are locked on me, vibrant and feral and blazing with heat.
He doesn't speak. He doesn’t need to.
His intentions are clear.
I’m going to pay for breaking the rules.
For trying to escape.
My breath trembles in my throat. All I have is the thin barrier of a bedsheet clutched against me as he prowls closer, his piercing gaze raking every inch of my skin.
I should scream.
Try to run.
But I do nothing.
Because I’m caught in his spell, and all I can do is stare.
He reaches the edge of the bed and crawls up.
Slow.
Predatory.
Every movement deliberate.
His bare hands sink into the mattress, his arms flexing with power as he looms over me. I feel his heat before he even touches me. Then he’s straddling me, his belt dragging across my thigh as he climbs up my body like he’s done it a hundred times. Like I belong beneath him.
His tongue slides up my throat, a single stroke from the base to the line of my jaw.
I shudder and bite back a moan.
His mouth trails across my skin until his lips brush my ear. “You’re going to pay for breaking my rules.”
I jolt awake.
My eyes fly open in the darkness, and it takes me a moment to fully wake up and catch my bearings.
The room is dark and empty.
No Nikolai.
I sit up and press the heel of my palm into my eye. The sheets are tangled around my legs, damp with sweat, and my skin is flushed and slick.
A dream.
It was just a dream.
I take in a deep breath then let it go slowly to steady my racing heart.
But Nikolai’s voice still echoes in my head.
That low, lethal whisper.
You're going to pay for breaking my rules.
8
NIKOLAI
She's avoiding me.
I can feel it in the way she hesitates at the top of the stairs.
In the careful silence of her footsteps as she finally descends.
Good girl.
She should be wary of me after last night.
I sit at the head of the long dining table, a cup of black coffee in one hand, my phone in the other as I scan through emails that don't interest me nearly as much as the woman currently hovering in my doorway.
I don't look up from my phone. Let her think I'm distracted. Let her believe she has a moment to compose herself before I acknowledge her presence.
But I'm aware of everything.
Of what she’s wearing. The way her fitted jeans hug her curves. The way her hair falls over one shoulder.
The slight hitch in her breathing when she sees me.
"Good morning, malyshka." I set my phone down and finally look at her, letting my gaze travel slowly from her face down to her boots and back up again. Taking my time. "Sleep well?"
Pink blooms across her cheeks.
There it is.
That delicious flush that tells me she's thinking about last night. About watching me. About whatever dreams followed her back to that bed after she fled.
"Fine," she says, her voice clipped as she moves toward the sideboard where my housekeeper, Katya, has laid out breakfast.
I lean back in my chair and watch her avoid looking at me as she fills her plate with mechanical precision. Berries. Pancakes. Honey.
She joins me at the table but is silent as she plays with the pancake in front of her.
"You know," I say conversationally, taking a sip of coffee, "most people would at least pretend to make conversation over breakfast."