Page 42 of Cruel Romeo

My first instinct is to freeze.

My second is to be annoyed that, despite all logic and self-preservation, my body is very much on board with this… not-a-gun situation. The heat pools low in my belly before I can stop it.

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Amazing notes for my future therapist.

I wiggle into Petyr’s grip, but then a low, gravelly voice stops me. “Trying to sneak off again,lisichka?”

My breath stutters. “Not at all. I was just gonna go and, um—do my morning yoga. Say hello to the sun and whatnot.”

“The sun.”

“Yep.” I donotsound convincing. “Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Hm.” Clearly, Petyr doesn’t share my concern with manners, because his grip doesn’t ease up in the least.

That’s when I feel it.

His hand, sliding over my stomach.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no?—

“We still haven’t had our wedding night,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I should tell him to stop. I should roll away, stick an elbow between his ribs, doanything.Instead, when his fingers splay possessively over my belly, I remain exactly where I am.

Same when they tease lower.

And lower.

And lower.

“Blyat’,” he curses against my ear. I know exactly what just made him slip into Russian for that: He found out I’m not wearing panties.

Which, if you really think about it, is entirely his own fault. Who kidnaps a woman without even providing a change of undies?

“You little tease.”

“Thought I was a fox,” I manage to blurt out.

“That, too.”

Before I can come up with a snarky reply, he’s pushing the hem of my shirt—hisshirt, the one I pilfered to sleep in—up over my hips. I suck in a breath as his hand glides down, over my thigh, then between my legs.

“So wet for me already,” he groans. “So fucking eager.”

“Shut up,” I breathe, but it comes out embarrassingly breathless.

He rolls me onto my back and settles between my legs. His mouth follows the trail of heat he left behind: neck, collarbone, sternum, the swell of my breasts. I whimper when his lips close around my nipple. His tongue flicks and my hips lift up without my permission to beg for more.

“Beautiful,” he mutters against my skin. He drags his mouth lower and lower. His breath ghosts over my sensitive inner thigh. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

My hands claw at the sheets.

And then his tongue is on me, and I swear my soul leaves my body.

He doesn’t ease in. Instead, he dives into eating me out, licking a dripping path from my seam to my clit. My cheeks flood with embarrassment. It’s so filthy, my rational mind is screaming at me to push him away.