Page 28

28

TASH

I hear his footsteps before I see him. The sharp click of Italian leather against marble echoes through the empty museum halls. My fingers freeze on my keyboard, but I don’t look up when Dmitri enters my office.

“Working late again?” His voice carries that edge of control that makes my heart race.

“Some of us have real jobs to do.” I keep typing, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Is your real job avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” I slam my laptop closed. “I’m trying to maintain some semblance of a normal life while you’re out there burning down galleries and threatening people.”

“Everything I do is to ensure the safety of my own.”

“I’m not yours.” I stand up, hands planted on my desk. “I’m not some painting you can acquire and lock away in your private collection.”

Dmitri moves closer, his presence filling my office. “No. You’re far more valuable.”

“Don’t.” I step back, bumping into my filing cabinet. “You can’t show up here and expect me to fall into line because you’ve decided I need protection.”

“The threats are real, Tash.” His ice-blue eyes darken. “Lebedev?—”

“Stop using your war as an excuse to control me.” My voice is sure. “I’ve managed just fine before you came along.”

He closes the distance between us, and despite my anger, my body responds to his proximity. His cologne wraps around me, familiar and intoxicating.

“Have you?” His fingers brush my arm. “Because from where I’m standing, you look like you’re barely holding it together.”

“That’s your fault.” I shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “You brought this chaos into my life.”

“I brought the truth.” His hand slides to my neck, thumb tracing my racing pulse. “And you can’t tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.”

My breath catches. Even now, with anger coursing through my veins, my body betrays me, leaning into his touch.

“I hate that you affect me like this,” I whisper.

“No.” His lips rest near mine. “You hate that you can’t control it.”

His words hit too close to home. I want to argue and counter his assessment, but the heat of his body and the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible to think straight.

“You don’t get to analyze me,” I manage, but my voice lacks conviction.

“I don’t need to.” His fingers thread through my hair, sending waves of unease through me. “Everything about you screams defiance, yetyou’re pressing closer.”

“I’m not—” But I am. My hands have somehow found their way to his chest, gripping his perfectly tailored shirt.

“Still lying to yourself?” His breath fans across my lips. “That’s not very professional of you, Ms. Blackwood.”

“And this is?” The words come out breathy, betraying my arousal.

“No.” His other hand slides to my lower back. “This is something else entirely.”

I hold my position, refusing to close the final distance between us. If he wants this, he’ll have to take it. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cave first.

He reads my silent challenge. For a moment, we’re locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to surrender.

Then his mouth crashes into mine, and everything else falls away. His kiss is demanding and possessive, breaking through my defenses like they’re made of paper. His tongue sweeps inside, claiming every inch, and I match his intensity, pouring all my frustration and desire into the kiss.

His kiss makes my knees weak, but I refuse to let him win so easily. I tear my mouth away, chest heaving.

“This doesn’t change anything.” My hands stay fisted in his shirt, betraying my words. “You lied to me, Dmitri.”

“I never lied.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I simply didn’t reveal everything.”

“Same thing.” I jerk back, putting space between us. “You let me fall into bed with you, knowing what kind of danger surrounded you. Knowing what your family does.”

“And if I had told you the truth from the start?” His gaze fixes on me. “Would you have given me a chance?”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.” Heat floods my cheeks. “You drew me into this mess without giving me a choice. Made me a target.”

“You were already involved the moment you caught my attention.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I shove at his chest. “You could have walked away. Could have left me in my nice, safe museum bubble where the biggest threat was budget cuts and demanding donors.”

“Is that genuinely what you want?” His fingers linger on my neck. “To head back to your unexciting life?”

“I want—” My voice catches as his fingers trace my collarbone. “I want to have known what I was getting into. Who I was getting into bed with.”

“You know who I am.” His touch burns through my skin. “And you’re still here.”

“Because I’m an idiot.” The words come out breathier than intended.

“No.” He steps closer, backing me against the wall. “Because despite everything, you want this as much as I do.”

His words pierce through my defenses, and I hate that he’s right. Ever since that first night, he’s been under my skin, consuming my thoughts even when I’m furious at him. My body remembers every touch, every kiss, every moment of pleasure he’s given me.

“I hate you,” I breathe against his mouth, but my hands slide up his chest.

“No, you don’t.” His lips brush mine. “You hate how much you want me.”

The kiss deepens, and I melt into him despite my anger. His hands cup my face with surprising tenderness, thumbs stroking my cheeks. The gentleness in his touch contrasts sharply with the dangerous man I now know him to be.

He lifts me onto my desk, scattering papers to the floor. His mouth trails down my neck, and I arch into him, fingers threading through his perfectly styled hair.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Let me prove how much you mean to me.”

His hands slide reverently down my sides, and I shiver at his touch. He worships my body with his mouth; each kiss is an unspoken apology, and each caresses a plea for understanding.

“Dmitri,” I gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot below my ear.

“I should have told you everything.” His hands frame my face again, ice-blue eyes intense. “But I couldn’t risk losing this. Losing you.”

My heart thunders as his mouth claims mine again, and I know I’m lost. I can’t walk away even knowing what he is and what he does. Not when he touches me like this, like I’m something precious and rare.

His fingers trace patterns on my skin through my silk blouse, and I arch closer, craving more. Every touch feels like an offering, a declaration, a promise.

I should be pushing him away but can’t bring myself to do it. My body craves his touch and needs it like a drug. My protests die in my throat as he pushes my blouse from my shoulders, baring me to his hungry gaze.

His pupils widen as they roam over my lace bra, taking in the way my breasts strain against the delicate fabric. His hands skim my waist and my hips, following the lines of my body as if committing them to memory.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing my collarbone. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I bite my lip as his fingers nudge the front hook of my bra, his eyes never leaving mine. With a flick of his thumb, the lace falls away, setting my breasts free. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as his gaze lowers, taking in my hardened nipples.

“I want to taste you,” he says hoarsely, leaning down.

His mouth closes around one nipple, his tongue swirling and tugging, sending streaks of pleasure straight between my legs. I cry out, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me.

He switches to the other nipple, lavishing attention until I’m squirming, desperate for more. Every touch, every flick of his tongue, sends sparks through my veins.

“Dmitri,” I breathe, tugging gently on his hair. “Please.”

He looks up, his eyes hooded with desire. “Tell me what you need.”

I swallow hard, my cheeks flaming. “I need—” I hesitate, my voice failing me.

“Tell me, kulkolka .” His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my skirt, stroking my bare skin. “Say it.”

The air catches in my throat as his fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of my panties.

“I need you,” I whisper. “Please.”

The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. It’s more than just a request for pleasure; it’s an acknowledgment of the hold we have on each other.

His eyes burn into mine as he slowly slides my panties down my legs, never breaking eye contact. I leave the silky fabric on the floor, shivering as the cool air hits my heated skin, my skirt pushed up around my waist.

His breath is warm against my thigh as he kneels before me, his eyes fixed on the juncture between my legs. With slow, deliberate movements, he spreads my folds, exposing my most intimate core to his hungry gaze.

“You’re breathtaking,” he says hoarsely, his finger gently stroking me.

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue flicking and swirling, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I cry out, my hands clutching his shoulders, my hips lifting to meet his mouth. He groans in response, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at my arousal. My body trembles as he works his magic, lips, and tongue sending me higher and higher.

He adds his fingers, thrusting and curling inside me, finding that spot that makes my breath catch. I’m so close now, my body tightening like a coiled spring. His fingers never slow, his tongue never wavers, and then I’m falling, crying out as pleasure washes over me.

Dmitri laps at my essence, drawing out my release, his hands anchoring my hips. I feel exposed, open, and vulnerable, yet I don’t want it to end. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me, wanting to prolong this moment of complete surrender.

Finally, he lifts his head, lips slick and swollen, and I can see the satisfaction—and something more—in his eyes. He licks his lips, tasting me, and I shudder.

“That was just the beginning,” he promises, his thumb brushing my swollen lips. “I plan to spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of you.”

He stands before me, those ice-blue eyes blazing with desire.

Dmitri starts to unbutton his shirt, taking his time. I hold my gaze as he reveals inch after inch of his sculpted chest. I bite my lip, knowing what’s to come. He shrugs out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, his perfectly tailored trousers the only thing left hiding his desire for me.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and rough.

I rise from the desk, my body on fire. I can’t stop myself from reaching out, letting my fingers trail along his sculpted abdomen.

“You’re killing me, kulkolka ,” he growls, stepping back and beginning to unbuckle his belt.

I watch, transfixed, as he undoes his trousers and lets them fall, stepping out of them. He’s magnificent, all lean muscle and hard lines. I take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the pulse between my legs.

I watch, transfixed, as he settles into my office chair, the leather creaking beneath him. He’s in control even when vulnerable, his eyes burning with intensity.

“Sit.” His deep voice is laced with command, his hand stroking his thick cock, which stands proudly upright.

I move closer, willing my legs to carry me to him. My skirt is the only remaining barrier, and I let it fall, stepping out of it as I approach. I’m naked now, exposed, my body on fire.

I lower myself onto his lap, feeling his heat against my core. His hands find my hips, guiding me as I impale myself on his length. We both groan at the intimate invasion, our bodies already in sync.

With slow, deliberate movements, I start to ride him, raising and lowering myself on his cock. It’s a tantalizing pace, teasing us both. My body craves more, but I take my time, wanting to draw out the pleasure.

His hands squeeze my hips, guiding my movements. “Faster, kulkolka ,” he growls, his eyes dark with desire. “Take what you want.”

His words unleash my inhibitions, and I oblige, increasing my pace. My breasts bounce with each movement, my skin flush with arousal.

Dmitri’s head falls back, his mouth open in a silent groan. His hands move to my breasts, kneading and teasing my sensitive nipples as I continue my relentless pace.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his hips thrusting up to meet mine. “Tighten around me.”

His command sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, and I do as he says, clenching around him, feeling his length fully inside me. It’s too much, too good, and I can feel my release building already.

I throw my head back, my breath coming in sharp gasps. “Dmitri, I?—”

“Come for me,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips. “Let me feel it.”

His words push me over the edge, and I cry out, my body shuddering as pleasure racks through me. Dmitri groans in response, his hands holding me tight as my release pulses around him.

But he’s not done. With strong arms, he lifts me, still joined. He stands, holding me securely, his lips claiming mine in a deep, passionate kiss. I taste myself on his lips, and it only fuels my desire.

He walks us over to my desk, and with a swift movement, he sets my back on the smooth wooden surface, still inside me.

“Hold on,” he breathes, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

And then he begins to move, thrusting hard and deep, taking what he wants. I cry out, feeling him fully, completely, his possession absolute.

“Dmitri,” I gasp, bracing myself on the desk, my fingers curling around the edge. “I can’t—it’s too much.”

“It’s not nearly enough.” His voice is ragged as he drives into me, his hips slamming against my ass. “But we have all night to fix that.”