Page 94 of No Longer Mine

In any other instance, I would have bolted. But we were also in my home…

“Are you ready?”

“Hmmm?”

His shoulders dropped in a sigh, and before I could process it, the knife slid up the center of my sports bra. The fabric gave way, and my breasts spilled free—right in his face.

Any other man would have reacted. A smirk, a glance, something.

Dimitri didn’t. His jaw clenched, his focus stayed anywhere but on me as he helped ease the ruined garment off my arms.

He really did hate me.

“I’m going to stand you up now,” he said, voice still carefully measured.

I nodded. The moment he lifted me, pain lanced through my side, pulling at my stitches. A sharp gasp escaped before I could stop it.

His head dipped immediately, scanning my face. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed hard and nodded again.

This time, when his hands slid to my hips and pushed my panties down over my thighs, I knew I was a mess.

But still, his gaze never dropped.

And somehow, that made it worse. The pain was just a dull throb now, which meant I was definitely high, and all I could think about was Dimitri taking off my panties. He gripped my hands in his and led me to the big walk-in shower. All I wanted was for him to strip down and help himself.

No matter how much I could fantasize about it in my hazy, drug-induced mind, it wouldn’t happen. He led me to the bench that ran along the back wall and turned the two knobs on the wall. Three shower heads and a handheld on the wall immediately sprayed out hot water, but nowhere near us. I looked down at his bare feet and frowned. My eyes tracked up over his now bare calves, and my eyes widened.

Had my fantasy really come to life?

My gaze traveled slowly, taking its time. Over powerful calves, thick, muscular thighs—only to stop at the one thing that had been haunting my dreams. Unfortunately, the massive cockthat now kept me up at night was hidden behind a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

Was he hard? Or was he always that big soft?

“You shouldn’t stare,” Dimitri grumbled, grabbing the handheld shower nozzle off the wall and bringing it closer to the bench.

“Why are you half-naked?”

His body was too impressive not to look at. My gaze snagged on a deep purple scar just above the waistband of his briefs. Circular. Small. The same size as—my bullet wound?

“I can’t help you get clean if I’m fully dressed,” he said, adjusting the water temperature. “Besides, I’m sure the press would love to see me leaving here half-naked and soaking wet. I need to be dry when I go.”

My lips pulled into a pout before I could stop them. “You have to leave?”

He hesitated. Just for a second.

Then he motioned for me to turn around. I obeyed, too hazy to argue, and the moment hot water hit the back of my head, I moaned.

Dimitri stiffened beside me.

But his hands were steady as he washed me, dragging the spray down my spine, across my shoulders. He set the shower-head back on its mount, and before I could process what was happening, his fingers slid into my hair, working shampoo through my scalp.

I blinked rapidly as emotions swelled within me, thick and unwelcome. It had to be the painkillers because I didn’t get emotional over things like this. My head fell forward as he continued to wash my body. When the water shut off, I let out a displeased sound as I wasn’t ready for it to be over. My eyes and body felt heavier than they had before, and I didn’t know if I could stand on my own.

I swayed on the bench for a moment before Dimitri let out a curse and rushed forward. I must have been close to face-planting because one minute I was up-right and the next I was falling into his rather large arms. I let out a squeak.

“What are you doing to me, Little Fox?” He whispered against my wet hair as he carried me from the shower. He placed me on the fuzzy rug in front of the tub and quickly ran for towels. He didn’t bother with wrapping one around his waist before he covered me in two. I blinked up at him from the floor, unsure of what to do with myself.