Page 10

10

TASH

M y heels click against the marble floor as I make my final rounds through the museum’s Egyptian wing. Two weeks of blessed silence from Dmitri Ivanov, though his absence nags at me more than I care to admit.

The intercom crackles. “Security breach detected. Initiating lockdown procedures.”

Red lights flash as metal barriers slide down over the windows. My heart pounds as I sprint toward the secure storage area which acts as our designated safe zone during threats.

I round the corner and freeze. Dmitri stands by the heavy metal door in one of his perfect suits, looking like he hasn’t missed a day of torturing me with his presence.

“Inside. Now.” His voice carries that familiar command that makes my spine tingle.

I rush past him into the climate-controlled room filled with crated artifacts. The door seals behind us with a heavy thunk.

“What are you even doing here?” I cross my arms, keeping distance between us in the dim emergency lighting.

“Board meeting.” His ice-blue eyes track my movements. “Though your security seems to have impeccable timing.”

“Two weeks of nothing, and now this?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

His lips curve. “Did you miss me, Natasha?”

“Like a root canal.” I turn away to check my phone, but there’s no signal. “Any idea what triggered the lockdown?”

“Several possibilities.” He loosens his tie. “None of them good.”

Despite the climate controls, the temperature feels too warm. Or maybe it’s just his presence affecting me again. I pace between the crates, hyperaware of his gaze following me.

“How long do these lockdowns usually last?” His voice sounds closer.

I spin around. He’s moved nearer, blocking my path between the storage shelves. My pulse quickens as I’m hit with memories of our last encounter in Sofia’s library.

“Standard procedure is thirty minutes minimum.” I hate how breathy my voice sounds. “Unless security gives the all-clear sooner.”

“Thirty minutes.” He steps closer, backing me against a shelf. “However shall we pass the time?”

His cologne fills my senses as he towers over me, making it impossible to focus on anything else. The shelf edge digs into my back, cold metal through silk. Ancient artifacts worth millions of dollars surround us, yet all I can think about is how his mouth felt two weeks ago.

“You’re flushed.” His fingers trace my collarbone, and I hate how my body betrays me.

“It’s warm down here.” The lie tastes bitter.

“Is that why your pulse is racing?” His thumb grazes my bottom lip.

I grab his wrist, intending to push him away. Instead, I hold on. “You can’t just disappear for weeks then show up expecting...”

“Expecting what?” His hand slips to my waist, burning through the thin fabric of my dress. “Tell me what I expect, Natasha.”

The way he speaks my name is like a dark promise, making heat pool low in my belly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.” His lips brush my ear. “Like you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t—” But I have. Ducking out of events, rescheduling meetings.

“Liar.” He nips my earlobe, and I gasp. “You’ve been running. But now...” His hand tightens on my waist. “Now there’s nowhere to run.”

The temperature seems to spike another ten degrees. My hands fist his expensive suit jacket, torn between pushing and pulling. “That kiss in the library...”

“Has been driving me mad for fourteen days.” His forehead rests against mine. “I can still taste you.”

A whimper escapes before I can stop it. His grip tightens in response, pressing me harder against the shelf. Priceless artifacts surround us, centuries of history watching our private war of wills unfold.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips hover a breath from mine. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

But I can’t lie anymore. Not with his body caging mine, his heat seeping into my bones, and two weeks of denial crumbling like ancient pottery.

His breath fans across my lips, and I can’t take the tension anymore. “Fine. I want you. Happy now?”

The words barely leave my mouth before his lips crash into mine. The kiss is nothing like our previous ones—it’s pure possession, teeth and tongue warring as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. I bite his lower lip in retaliation, drawing a growl deep in his chest.

“Such fire,” he says against my mouth. “Always fighting, even when you surrender.”

My fingers tangle in his perfect hair, destroying the careful styling as I pull him closer. His body presses fully against mine, the hard length of him hot against my stomach through our clothes. The shelf edge digs into my back but I barely notice, lost in the taste of expensive scotch on his tongue.

“I haven’t surrendered anything,” I gasp as his mouth trails down my neck. My head falls back, giving him better access despite my words. “This doesn’t mean you win.”

His chuckle vibrates against my throat. “No?” His teeth graze my pulse point. “Your body says otherwise, kukolka .” One hand slides down to grip my thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind against me. “I can feel how wet you are through your dress.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to look away from his intense gaze. His pupils are blown wide, only a thin ring of ice-blue remaining. For once, his perfect control is slipping.

“I need to taste you.” His voice is rough and dangerous. “Every. Inch.” Each word is punctuated with a roll of his hips, making me dig my nails into his shoulders. “Let me show you what surrender really means.”

His hands grip my waist, lifting me with a strength that makes my breath catch. My back meets the smooth surface of a wooden crate. Its polished finish is cool through my dress against my heated skin. My heart hammers against my ribs as Dmitri positions himself between my legs, his expensive suit brushing the bare skin of my thighs.

“Still fighting?” His fingers trace patterns on my inner thigh, each touch sending sparks through my body.

I bite my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my body betrays me as his hand inches higher, my hips shifting unconsciously toward his touch.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” He leans down, his breath hot against my neck. His other hand tangles in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat. “But I want to hear you.”

The crate creaks beneath me as he presses closer. The rational part of my brain screams that we’re surrounded by priceless artifacts, that anyone could find us, and that this is beyond reckless. But with his mouth trailing fire down my neck and his hand inching up my thigh, rationality feels like a distant memory.

“Last chance to stop me,” he warns, lips pressed against my collarbone, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

I should say no. Should push him away. Should maintain some shred of dignity. Instead, I arch into his touch, my fingers clutching his shoulders as his hand slides higher.

The smirk I feel against my skin tells me he knows he’s won this round. But as his fingers brush against the lace, drawing a gasp from my lips, I find I don’t care about winning anymore.

I moan as his fingers slide beneath the lace, teasing with feather-light touches that make my body erupt with heat. His mouth claims mine again, swallowing my whimpers as he teases me higher.

“So responsive,” he growls against my lips. “I’ve imagined this for weeks. The sounds you’d make. How you’d feel.”

My hands fumble with his tie, desperate to feel skin. He catches my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head against the crate.

“Patience, kukolka .” His free hand continues its torment between my thighs. “I want to savor this.”

“Dmitri...” His name comes out as a plea. I can feel another smirk against my neck.

“Yes?” Two fingers slide inside me, making my back arch. “Tell me what you want.”

“I hate you,” I gasp as his thumb circles my clit.

“No, you don’t.” He curls his fingers, and stars explode behind my eyes. “You hate how much you want me. How wet you get thinking about me. How easily I can make you fall apart.”

His words and his touch push me closer to the edge. My hips rock against his hand, chasing release. The crate creaks beneath us, but I’m beyond caring about our surroundings.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, increasing his pace. “Show me how much you hate me.”

I’m spiraling out of control, teetering on the edge of orgasm, when he suddenly stops. I open my eyes to see him smirking, triumphant, and my brain registers what’s happening.

“No—” I try to protest, but he silences me with a kiss as he trails lower, his tongue dancing along my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair, guiding him lower as he kisses and sucks his way across my stomach.

“Dmitri...” I’m half pleading, half warning, but he just chuckles against my skin. I feel his hot breath between my thighs a second before his mouth replaces it, and I cry out at the first touch of his tongue.

He moans, the vibrations shooting straight to my core, and I clutch at the crate as he devours me. He tastes me like he’s starving and craving this as much as I am. One hand grips my hip, holding me in place as his tongue strokes and dances, sending sparks of pleasure through my body.

I’m a mess of sensation, my head falling back against the crate, my mouth open in a silent scream as he teases me closer and closer to the edge. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he stops, his fingers replacing his tongue until I’m sobbing and begging for release.

“Dmitri, please?—”

He chuckles darkly, and I feel the thrum of it against me, sending lightning bolts of pleasure straight to my core.

“You’re so wet for me, kukolka . So responsive. I love how you taste.” His fingers tease and pump, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

His name falls from my lips repeatedly as he pushes me higher and higher. My fingers tighten in his hair, and my hips thrust against his mouth as he drives me wild. My breath comes in short gasps as he takes me right to the very brink, then backs off, denying me the release I’m begging for.

“Please...” My voice breaks as he continues his relentless torture. “I can’t take much more.”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is strained. “You can take everything I give you.”

His tongue swirls and flicks, his fingers pumping harder, faster. My walls clench around them, and I feel the coil in my belly tighten to the point of pain.

“Please.” I’m not sure what I’m begging for anymore. Still, he shows no mercy as he adds more pressure, his tongue relentless as it pushes me further and further until I shatter with a scream, my juices flowing over his fingers.

He laps at me, drinking every last drop of my release, before slowly climbing back up my body. I’m a boneless mass of sensation as he peppers kisses across my damp skin, a satisfied smirk curving his lips.

“There.” He nuzzles my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “That’s what surrender really means.”

My eyes drift shut as I try to process what just happened. My body feels like jelly, every nerve ending still buzzing with pleasure.

“Do you know how incredible you taste?” He nips my ear, making me jump. “Like the sweetest dessert.”

“Shut up.” My voice is weak and breathless, but I try to hide it with a scowl as I push him away. “Get off me.”

He chuckles but doesn’t move, his body still too close, his eyes burning into mine.

The intercom crackles to life, making me jump. “Security protocol lifted. All clear.”

Dmitri moves with fluid grace, stepping back and helping me off the crate in one smooth motion. I barely have time to straighten my dress before the heavy door slides open with a hydraulic hiss.

“Ms. Blackwood?” Officer Chen’s flashlight beam sweeps the room. “Everything okay in here?”

I clear my throat, praying my voice sounds steadier than I feel. “Fine. Just got caught during my final walk-through.”

My eyes drift to Dmitri as he subtly adjusts himself. The obvious bulge in his tailored pants makes heat flood my cheeks again. He shifts his jacket to better conceal the evidence of our encounter.

“Mr. Ivanov.” Chen nods respectfully. “Didn’t realize you were in the building, sir.”

“Board meeting ran late.” Dmitri’s voice betrays nothing of what just happened. “Fortunate timing, really. I was discussing the Petrov acquisition with Ms. Blackwood when the alarm sounded.”

I have to bite back a hysterical laugh. Is that what we’re calling it now?

“False alarm,” Chen explains. “New system’s still got some bugs to work out. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not at all.” Dmitri smooths his tie. “Better safe than sorry.”

The fabric of my dress feels damp against my thighs as I follow them out. Dmitri walks slightly behind me, and I wonder if he’s using me to shield his current state of arousal from view.