Page 85 of Savage Don

For a moment, neither of us moves.

I want to strip off the rest of my clothes, drag her to the edge of the desk, and bury myself in her until the whole house hears who she is coming for.

Instead, I pull back. Not far. Just enough to stop myself.

Her eyes open slowly. “What?” she whispers.

“Not tonight.”

Her brow furrows.

I kiss her once, because I cannot help it. “You’re still healing,” I say against her mouth. “And if I start, I won’t be able to be careful.”

Her lips part, but no argument comes.

She knows I mean it.

I help her dress without looking away from her, because pretending I have not just had my mouth on her would be absurd. My hands are slower now, more controlled, but the heat between us doesn’t go anywhere. It sits there in every breath, every touch, every time her eyes drop to my mouth and back again.

When her sweater is back on, and her hair is a mess around her face, she looks at me like she doesn’t know what happens next.

Neither do I.

Then Kirill knocks on the door. “Sir. Mr. Antonov is back. He says it cannot wait.”

Elara and I both go still.

I button my jacket and force my breathing to steady. “Stay here.”

Her cheeks flush again, but this time she nods.

I unlock the door and step into the hall, closing it behind me before Kirill can see inside.

He looks at me once. Then very wisely looks away.

“Where is Sergei?” I ask.

“At the end of the hall.”

Sergei is waiting with a tablet in his hand, and the moment I see his face, the heat in my blood turns cold.

He’s found something.

12

ELARA

For several seconds after Nikolai leaves, I just sit there on his desk and try to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

My legs are still shaking, like if I try to stand too quickly, my knees might file a complaint and give up on me altogether.

My sweater is somewhere on the floor. My bra is half in place, half not. My trousers are around one ankle because apparently being eaten out on a billionaire’s desk doesn’t automatically make you graceful afterward.

Very unfair.

I press one hand to my mouth. It still feels like him.

So does the rest of me.