Page 74 of His Forced Bride

The same warmth I felt last week as he pinned me on his desk swirls again to the surface.

I swallow hard and pull my eyes from meeting his gaze and continue working.

"What happens now?" I ask, sincerely shaken by my own reactions to his nearness.

This man is ruining me and my own better judgment.

I'm acting like a helpless fucking waif, and he is getting off on it.

"Now he learns what threats cost in our world," Yuri says softly, and I believe him.

For reasons I don't understand, this man has taken to warring on my behalf, and I'm grateful.

Yes, it was his fault I got into this mess, but at least he's cleaning it up.

I finish bandaging his hands, acutely aware of his eyes on my face, the heat radiating from his body, the way the space between us seems to contract with each shared breath.

"You could've told me sooner. About why the warehouses burned…"

As I put the kit away and toss the soiled wipes and gauze into the trash, he sits straighter and loosens his tie.

"Would it have changed anything?"

"I might have understood that you weren't the one destroying my life."

"Just the one controlling it?" he challenges, and I wince at how horrible I've been to him.

He hasn't been that awful, really.

"Yes," I admit under a grunt and then shudder as I feel his hand on my waist. I turn slowly, and he reaches up with his bandaged hand and traces the line of my jaw.

"I won't let them hurt you, Inessa. Whatever it takes."

Something is changing inside me.

Whether or not Kozlov's attacks on my business are related to him, Yuri is the man protecting me now that Batya is gone.

I have to acknowledge that.

"I know," I whisper, and I don't shy away when his hand slides down my arm to my wrist.

He pulls me toward him and then down onto his lap.

I'm not sure why I allow him, but I do, and I don't even try to fight him.

My legs straddle his thighs, and I tense, bracing my palms against the back of the couch to hold myself steady.

His grip is firm at my waist but not crushing, and it leaves me more unsettled than if he’d simply forced me.

“You should rest,” I tell him, though the words come out soft.

I am by no means a soft woman, but even my coarse nature seems like silk compared to his violent one.

“Rest?”

His gaze drags over my face.

“When the only thing keeping me upright is you?”