Page 16 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, then push her down onto the mattress. She goes willingly, pulling me down with her, her legs wrapping around my waist. The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, and I can feel her heart racing against my chest, her breasts pressed against my chest.
My hand slides up her side, tracing the curve of her ribs and the swell of her breast. She arches into the touch, her fingers tangling in my hair. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to take this further, to give in to the desire that's been building since I first saw her.
I break the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Her eyes darken as she takes in my bare chest, her gaze lingering on the bandage at my side where she stabbed me. For a moment, something flickers in her expression. Guilt? Regret? But then it's gone, replaced by pure heat.
"Touch me," I command, my voice rough.
She doesn't hesitate. Her hands explore my chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the scars I've collected over the years. Each touch sends fire through my veins. I reach behind her and unhook her bra with practiced ease, pulling it away to reveal perfect breasts. I lower my head, taking one nipple into my mouth, and she gasps, her back arching off the bed.
I lavish attention on her breasts, using my tongue and teeth until she's writhing beneath me, her nails digging into my shoulders. My hand slides down her flat stomach to the waistband of thoseblack lace panties. I hook my fingers in them and pull them down her legs, tossing them aside.
She's beautiful, completely bare before me, flushed with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment, I just look at her, committing this image to memory. Then I stand and remove the rest of my clothes, watching her watch me. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees how hard I am for her.
I settle between her thighs, and she opens for me without hesitation. My fingers find her wet and ready, and I stroke her, watching her face as pleasure washes over her features. She's responsive, her hips moving against my hand, soft moans escaping her lips.
I position myself at her entrance and thrust inside in one smooth motion. She cries out, her body tensing around me, and fuck, she feels incredible. Tight and hot and perfect. I give her a moment to adjust, then begin to move, setting a hard, demanding rhythm.
She meets me thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper. I brace myself on my forearms, looking down at her face. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, and she's making these small sounds that drive me crazy. I want to see her come apart beneath me.
I reach between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with my thumb. Her eyes fly open, meeting mine, and the connection is electric. For a moment, I forget this is supposed to be a game, forget that she's my prisoner, that she's trying to manipulate me. All I can think about is her, the way she feels, and the way she's looking at me with such heat in those expressive green eyes.
"Come for me," I growl against her ear, and she does, her body clenching around me as she cries out. The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I follow her into oblivion, burying my face in her neck as my release crashes through me.
For several long moments, we stay like that, our bodies still joined, both of us breathing hard. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. Then reality comes crashing back.
What the fuck did I just do?
I pull away from her, suddenly needing distance. She watches me with those dark eyes as I gather my clothes, her expression unreadable. Is that satisfaction I see there? Triumph? My stomach twists.
She played me. She fucking played me, and I let her. Worse, I wanted it. I still want it, even knowing what she's doing.
I dress quickly, not looking at her. I can feel her gaze on me, waiting for me to say something. Anything. But what is there to say? That it was incredible? That I want to do it again?
I head for the door, my mind racing. This changes everything. I've crossed a line I can't uncross, and she knows it.
9
MARIYA
The door closes behind him with a soft click that echoes through the room like a gunshot. I stare at it, my body still trembling, my skin still flushed from what we just did. What I just did.
I can't believe it.
I actually had sex with him. With a Bratva member who's holding me prisoner. A man whose name I don't even know.
I press my hands against my face, feeling the heat in my cheeks. This was supposed to be a tactic, a way to get close to him, to make him lower his guard so I could escape. But somewhere between the first kiss and the moment he pushed me down onto the bed, the plan fell apart. Or maybe I fell apart.
No. I refuse to think about how it felt. I refuse to acknowledge the way my body responded to his touch, the way pleasure crashed through me when he moved inside me. That wasn't real. It was just biology, just a physical response. It didn't mean anything.
Itcan'tmean anything.
I stand on shaking legs and walk to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I don't want to see what's written on my face right now, don't want to confront the truth that's trying to claw its way to the surface.
The shower is already familiar to me after last night, and I turn the water as hot as I can stand it. Steam fills the bathroom as I step under the spray, letting it wash away the evidence of what just happened. I scrub my skin until it's pink, trying to erase the memory of his hands on me, his mouth on me, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.
But no amount of soap and water can wash away the fact that I enjoyed it. That for those few minutes, I forgot I was his prisoner, forgot that he's dangerous, that he wants information I don't have, and that he could kill me at any moment.
I forgot everything except the way he made me feel.
