Page 63 of Betrothed
From there, it took a few seconds before another camera picked up what she was doing.
Attempting to head to the back of the property. The only problem was as soon as she was within a couple of feet of the house, one of the soldiers walked around the corner and she was forced to hide.
I’d need to give the man a raise since he’d obviously detected her. Only when he turned his back did she scamper back to the house. But not before catching sight of one of the cameras. At least now, she was trying to act as if she’d been engaged in searching for food.
Fuck. What in the hell was I to do with this woman? She was a wild child in every way.
As I left the room, ensuring it was locked, I rubbed my jaw. She was as hardheaded as any woman I’d ever dealt with. I had to adjust my cock given how aroused I’d become. No one had ever challenged me with this degree of tenacity.
I jogged downstairs, standing in the doorway for a few seconds until I could control my facial expression. I’d use her escape against her when the time was right.
“Wow,” Vivian said with shocked emphasis as soon as I returned to the kitchen. She’d pressed her fingers across her lips, which she did when she was trying to hide her reaction or unwanted sounds. Her gaze swept over me with heat and fire.
She even gripped the edge of the counter, which pleased me to no end. There would always be something endearing about a woman’s reaction. You bet I was that vain. What man wasn’t?
I wanted her to make the low and husky sound for an entirely different reason. When I was fucking her. When she was calling my name. My cock twitched from the thought.
While I’d yet to take a shower, the change in clothes had been a good idea. For both of us.
Only her jeans were a perfect fit in highlighting her rounded curves.
If she’d wanted to drive me crazy, she’d accomplished her goal. I allowed my gaze to linger for a few seconds, which she noticed.
“Is something wrong?” Her challenge was tempting.
“Should there be?”
“No,” she managed, immediately turning away.
She’d refreshed our glasses of wine, the half-consumed bottle on the kitchen island. With the afternoon waning, she’d turned on a few lights, the effect warming in the sterile area.
In my absence, she’d selected music and I’d be damned if the country crooning wasn’t one of the first surprises. I would think her more a rock and roll girl. She purposely tried to ignore me, moving about the kitchen in quick actions.
“I hope you like pasta. There isn’t very much in the cupboards.”
“Cupboards?”
Huffing, she grabbed her wine, taking a sip, finding it difficult to ignore me.
Now my balls were tight.
“I forgot. I certainly don’t understand Russian culture, although I’d considered taking it as a language in college. My grandmother called them cupboards. Cabinets.”
“Ah. There will be a food delivery tomorrow. Perhaps we could order for delivery.”
“And have your goons check the food after strip searching the delivery driver? That’s not fair.”
When I was around her, laughing was much easier than at almost any other time of my life. “Safety is important.”
“That’s why you selected a house that’s as close to being Fort Knox as possible. You do know that expression. Don’t you? I don’t even know if you get anything other than comrade news in Russia.”
“Comrade news? Fortunately, with the invention of satellite television, we can actually watch almost anything we want. And believe it or not, I do understand American terminology.”
“Do they teach you that in assassin school?”
It was good to see her feisty personality had somewhat returned, although there was more of a cautious edge.
“Yes, they do.”
