Page 97 of Ruthless Sin
I pull the shirt out of his waistband. Start at the bottom button. Work my way up. My fingers don’t shake.
He stands very still and watches my hands.
The shirt opens.
His chest is lean. Hard. There’s a scar on his left ribs, small, raised, the length of a knife blade. There are scars on his shoulders I’ll ask about later. Maybe. Maybe I won’t ask at all.
I trace the rib scar with my thumb.
He doesn’t flinch. His skin is warm under my hand.
I push the shirt off his shoulders. He moves his arms just enough to let me take it. I drop it on the floor.
I put both hands on his chest. His heart is racing under my left palm.
He hasn’t touched me yet. Not since his hands found my hips.
“Your turn,” I say.
Barely a whisper. But I said it.
His eyes go dark.
He brings his hands to the back of the dress.
His hands shake.
The zipper comes down slow. The sound of it fills the quiet room. He catches the dress at my elbows. Lets it fall to my waist. The bra is soft, no underwire. Sofia knows what bodies need.
He brings his hands to my ribs.
“Mila.”
“Da.”
The bra unhooks. He slides the straps down my arms. Slow. Asking with his hands.
He drops the bra on the floor.
I push the dress over my hips. It pools at my feet.
I step out of it.
I’m in nothing but the chain.
He doesn’t look down my body. He looks at my face.
“Krasivaya.”Beautiful.
He sits on the edge of the bed.
He pulls me toward him by my hips.
I step between his knees. He’s at eye level with my chest. He puts his mouth on the chain. Then on the place under my jaw where the violin lives. Then on my collarbone. Then lower.
His mouth on my breast.
His tongue on my nipple.
