Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” My back hit the cold tile.
CHAPTER 20
MARINA
Trapped.
I forced myself to keep my gaze on his face—to not let my eyes drop. But it was a battle I was already losing.
Because fuck.
His massive chest rose and fell, droplets of water trailing down the ridges of his abs, slipping lower—lower—and God help me, his cock was thickening by the second.
A dark, satisfied smirk curled his lips as he stripped out of his briefs and took another slow step forward, caging me against the back wall of the shower.
“I think that’s pretty obvious.”
The water ran down his skin, hot and relentless, washing away every streak of mud and filth that had clung to him. The dirt dripped away, revealing inked skin stretched taut over muscle. The sheer power of him made my breath hitch.
I should look away.
I tried to look away.
But it was physically impossible.
I knew he was big. But knowing it and seeing it, standing before me, broad shoulders tensed, abs carved from marble, his cock standing hard and proud was something else entirely.
My pulse pounded.
He reached for the soap, his large hands moving with slow, deliberate ease. The bar spun between his palms, lathering up, thick and creamy. White foam clung to his fingers, the sight sinful. My skin prickling with heat, my hands itched to take it from him. To press it against his chest. To drag it down every inch of his body, following its path with my fingertips. Then maybe even my mouth.
His gaze flicked up to mine, heavy-lidded, knowing.
“Are you going to take off your clothes and get clean,” he murmured, his voice dark velvet, “or are you just going to stand there and watch me?”
“There is no way I’m getting naked in here with you.”
I spat the words with every ounce of defiance I had left.
Proud of myself. Proud that, despite everything—the steam, the heat, the way my traitorous body responded to him—I still had some restraint.
Kostya laughed, a low, deep sound that coiled through me.
And just like that, I knew I was in trouble.
“I think you need to realize something.”
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and feral.
“Your stunt pushed me beyond the point of being reasonable. Beyond asking.” He took another step, water sluicing over the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, dipping lower.
The space between us shrank to nothing.
“I’m telling you to take off your fucking dirty clothes and get clean,” he rasped against my skin. “Either you do it”—a slow, deliberate pause—"or I will.”
The air between us crackled, thick and electric, hunger and fury tangled into one impossible knot.
“Test me again, little one,” he murmured, towering over me, daring me to push him further. “See what happens.”
A single drop of water started on his shoulder and slid down his body.
I watched it fall, irrationally desperate to chase it with my tongue.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I should be mad. I should be scared.
But all I felt was an unbearable, deep-in-my-belly twisting.
Because my body didn’t care about logic.
Didn’t care about should or shouldn’t.
It only cared about him.
And that was dangerous.
That was so fucking dangerous.
A stupid, reckless part of me wanted to test him.
To push him further.
Would he really follow through? Would he spank me again? Would it send me spiraling into another life-altering, toe-curling orgasm?
Was it worth it?
I barely had time to consider the answer before his voice cut through the steam. “Time’s up.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before he tossed the soap in the soap dish and reached for my sweater, tearing the cheap yarn down the center. A gasp ripped from my throat. My hands flew to the soaked fabric, fingers clutching at the remnants in a feeble attempt to keep myself covered.
I fought him. I tried to hold onto the pieces, tried to shove him away, but he was relentless.
Layer by layer, he stripped me bare.
“The more you fight me,” he murmured against my ear, his voice a velvet-wrapped threat, “the more fun I have.”
The ruined remains of my sweater and bra landed somewhere across the bathroom. My pulse pounded as his hands went for the front of my jeans.
Tension crackled in the space between us.
I could push.
I could make this a battle neither of us would win.
Or…
“Fine,” I bit out, my voice rough with defiance.
I shoved a hand against his chest, forcing half a step of space between us.
His eyes gleamed. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face, sharp and victorious.
I hated how much I wanted to wipe it off him.
Gritting my teeth, I peeled my jeans down, letting the water finally wash away the dried mud.
Kostya grabbed the soap again and lathered up a washcloth.
I reached for it, but he held it just out of my grasp.
“No.” His sharp gaze was unwavering. “You’ve already proven you can’t be trusted with anything.” His smirk deepened. “I think I’ll do this part myself.”